Page 18 of Finding Love in the Clouds

The table was covered in a large, gray and white checkered tablecloth. A small jar gas lamp illuminated it in a soft glow, bringing a smile to Sophie’s lips.

“What are you finding so humorous?” Fernando asked, leaning in to hear her over the cacophony surrounding them.

“It’s just funny how all the American Italian restaurants back home have taper candles in tall wine bottles and red checkered tablecloths, but here in Rome, they are gray checkers and small gas lamps. It’s close but not quite the real thing. You would never know unless you visited for yourself. For a moment, I was disappointed it wasn’t the real thing, then I realized I had been experiencing the fake all along.”

“Not fake, just a different version. As we travel over the next two weeks, you may find that red checkered cloth and candles in wine bottles. It just isn’t here at this particular location. Give it time before you let your perspective shift. Just collect all the pieces for now and put the puzzle together at the end,” he suggested, squeezing her fingers gently but not releasing her hand as he lifted his menu. “Happen to have a pocket translator handy; I don’t read Italian.”

“Not to worry, sir, I can help you,” the jovial waiter said as he arrived with a pitcher of water and promptly explained the menu items.

Before long, Fernando and Sophie were presented with a tantalizing array of classic Italian starters since Fernando said he could not choose and was too hungry not to try it all. There was a wooden board piled with savory meats, including thinly sliced prosciutto, salami, and creamy mortadella, accompanied by briny olives and marinated artichoke hearts. A second platter of assorted cheeses featuring creamy mozzarella, sharp Parmigiano-Reggiano, and tangy Gorgonzola, served alongside sweet fig preserves and crunchy breadsticks, was added to the table along with a plate of crisp bruschetta topped with ripe tomatoes, fragrant basil, and a drizzle of fruity extra virgin olive oil.

“I think your eyes might have been bigger than your stomach on this one. This is enough food to feed an army, and we are only on the appetizers. Perhaps we should cancel the entrees and save the mouthwatering pasta dishes for tomorrow. These aren’t Americanhotel rooms that come equipped with microwaves; there won’t be any midnight snacking on this trip.”

“Hmm, good point. But honestly, I’m so hungry I could do some damage to a bowl of pasta, too. Let’s save some of these items and hand them off to one of the homeless folks we saw laying out their beds on the sidewalk and save room for the main course. I feel like this would be easier to share than a messy pasta dish with no plasticware.”

“I like that thinking. For some reason, I never thought of you as a person to notice the homeless. I’m not sure why. It’s not like you’re a self-absorbed, arrogant jerk like so many other billionaires.” Sophie eyed him thoughtfully as she chewed her bite of bruschetta, the fresh flavors bursting on her tongue.

“It’s probably because I don’t seem to notice much of anything outside my work at times. I couldn’t even tell you your preferred clothing style, and we have spent at least ten hours a day in each other’s company for the past three years. It’s ridiculous, really, but where I may fail in noticing fashion and perhaps other signals that people send my way, at times, I try to be very aware of the humans around me. That is to say that I try to notice the emotional status and the overall well-being of those around me. May I ask you a question, and you promise to answer it with a hundred percent honesty? I want total candor.” Fernando folded his arms and leaned across the table to see her gray eyes more clearly.

Sophie followed suit, placing her breadstick on her plate and her hands in her lap, and looked into his dark brown eyes in all seriousness. “Okay, what is it?”

“I know this is putting you on the spot. Forgive me for that, but I need to know after the revelations of the past twenty-four hours… Would you say I’m a good boss? No, that puts you into a corner. What would you say are my strengths as a boss and areas that I need to makeimprovements on? Aside from paying better attention to my staff, at least where their attire is concerned. Do you feel seen as a person in my employ?”

His eyes were so solemn that Sophie could tell this was really weighing on his mind.

“Let me answer the first question. Yes, I think you are a wonderful boss. I know that your staff feels valued, not just me. I have never heard an ill word spoken about you or any negative gossip. That says a lot in and of itself.” Sophie reached across the table and placed her hand on his forearm. “Knowing what a person wears does not make them seen. The fact that I am a female on your staff, and you can’t tell me the favorite color of my blouses, in a way, makes me feel safe.”

“I feel like your favorite color may be a plum purple. Am I close or totally off on that?”

“See, that is my point exactly. You have seen and noticed me because thatismy favorite color, and my mother says I wear it too often. The fact you can’t tell me the exact style of my clothes means you don’t spend all day ogling me, or the other women in the office for that matter, because I have never seen you notice any women. You don’t give every female who walks in an appraising look. I appreciate that about you. Is it frustrating to some women who are trying to catch your eye? Sure, but that is their problem, not yours. I would much rather have things the way they are. The important thing about you as a boss is that you listen and value the opinions of others without being wishy-washy. You listen and make decisions without letting the opinions of others sway you too greatly, one way or the other. You listen and hear but are the boss and a steady captain of the ship. No one doubts your ability to lead. You are dependable, kind, and, in your own way, thoughtful.”

Squeezing his arm, she sat back in her chair and took a bite of her delicious food.

“That was nice. I believe you. Thank you for the reassurance. What can I work on?” he asked, not moving.

Sophie chewed her food thoughtfully. “Well, I’m a little biased here, but I would say... finding balance. You work too hard. You rarely sleep. That sometimes results in absentmindedness. That is fine because you have me to help keep things straight, catch your mistakes, and hopefully correct the ones I miss on the first pass. That does lend to a bit of chaos at times. It isn’t healthy for you in the long run, and well… it can be quite exhausting for me.” Sophie leaned in again, this time matching his folded arm position on the table. “I’m not complaining exactly, but you asked, so I’m answering. When you work fourteen-hour days, that means I work fourteen-hour days. Sometimes you send me home and then sleep at the office but I have a commute. So, when you get six hours of sleep, I am blessed to get four. That is understandable when deadlines are looming, and big deals are happening, but… you pull those kinds of daysa lot. There are some days I tell you I’m going to lunch and then curl up on my couch and take a power nap just to get through the day. Garret has driven me home and paid for a return Uber the following morning on many occasions because he has seen me in the parking lot too tired to drive home safely. That is what I wish you would pay more attention to and work to change.”

Chapter Eighteen

The waiter chose that moment to deliver their entrees, and the conversation paused as they savored the meal.

Sophie dove into her Tagliatelle al ragù, a classic Bolognese-style ragù sauce made with tender ground beef, aromatic onions, carrots, and celery, simmered low and slow until thick and velvety, then tossed with ribbons of silky pasta. Sophie’s mother often made Bolognese and had taught her how to do it when she was just a child. She wanted to compare that experience from home with the authentic Italian one. It was wonderful. Her mother’s was vastly different yet comfortingly similar. After taking time to analyze the dish, she was certain it was the tagliatelle pasta that made the difference. This was freshly made pasta and had a different texture than the fettuccine her mother often served her Bolognese with.

“I’m so lost enjoying my dinner, I didn’t ask how yours is?” Sophie said, pausing her eating to let the flavors linger on her palate and taking a sip of the Lambrusco sparkling red wine the waiter recommended to pair with her meal.

“I had forgotten how wonderful the food in Italy was. I have been here several times, but it has been a while. You take for granted good food in the moment and then forget about the experience when you leave, and life takes over. I ate a lot of red pasta dishes when I was here last. I’m glad I tried the Gnocchi al pesto this time. These pillowy things are potato dumplings, and this bright green pesto sauce is made with basil that tastes like it was just picked off the plant. It is so fresh. The pine nuts, garlic, and parmesan cheese are the perfect balance of flavor. This meal makes me feel like a foodie, and yet I usually barely notice my food. “Eating is something that must be done to survive, but I rarely enjoy it; I just want to get it done and over with and get back to work,” Fernando stated, punctuating his words with a sip of his Soave white wine.

“Your eating habits are another area you could do some balance with. Swallowing your food without properly chewing it will catch up with you someday. It wreaks havoc on your digestive system and makes it difficult for your body to absorb nutrients. Not to mention, scarfing your meal down in ten minutes puts pressure on those eating with you to do the same. So, either they have digestive issues too or feel pressured to stop eating and go hungry,” Sophie added before taking her next bite and chewing it thoroughly.

“Point taken. I will endeavor to do better on all the previously mentioned fronts. This vacation will be the perfect opportunity for me to begin making changes. If you see me eating too quickly, walking too fast, or just forgetting to be present in the moment, please say something. I give you carte blanche to correct me. I want you to enjoy the adventure right alongside me.”

“Be careful what you wish for Andy; you might just get it,” Sophie warned with a twinkle in her eye.

Finishing their meal, they strolled hand and hand down the cobblestone streets to their next iconic landmark, the Trevi Fountain. Pictures didn’t do it justice. The fountain was massive, standing several stories high and as wide as a city block. The tourist map in her hand said the sculptures reflected the Baroque style and conveyed the power and majesty of the sea and its mythical inhabitants like Neptune, Agrippa, and Diana. None of that really meant anything to Sophie, but it was still beautiful to behold. The lighting installed in the fountain made it glow like all the other landmarks surrounding them.

“Here, toss a coin over your right shoulder and make a wish,” Fernando instructed, displaying a palm full of coins.

“I don’t believe in wishes or luck,” Sophie said, but picked up two coins and tossed them over her shoulder anyway.

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