Page 15 of Perfect Match
His eyes, now a cloudy gray, narrow. “Didn’t you say you were going to Florence sometime?”
“Yep, we go to Rome by train on Thursday, and after that is Florence.”
“Will you meet me there? I can show you the sights.” His smile is back, along with the dimple that creases his left cheek.
“I’d like that.” The thought of another day or night with Gio is an exciting prospect.
“Good. Now, let’s go out on the deck, have a drink, and enjoy these last moments together.” He feathers a couple of kisses to my cheek and then takes my hand to lead me outside. Strangely, I like that he seeks out my touch. I’ve never been a touchy-feely kind of girl—growing up, the only hugs available were from my sister. But with Gio, I don’t mind.
***
My head is still spinning as I sit on a low brick wall by the Sorrento dock, the yacht just a speck in the distance. I know I should message my friends to say I’m here, but I don’t. Instead, I pull my journal from my bag and open to the first blank page.
May 22 – I met a man, Charli. A sexy half-Italian, half-American man. And we’ve had the best day together.
He’s the businessman from the pizzeria last night, and I know I should have added an addendum to yesterday’s entry, but by the time I’d returned to the hotel after having dinner with him, I was beat.
I can hear your gasp. Gio (that’s his name) invited me to join him for dinner last night. He’s the pizzeria owner Emilio’s cousin.
And today he took me on his luxury yacht to the Isle of Capri. He said he had to go there for a meeting. But that was for less than an hour, and he spent most of the day entertaining me. We had lunch at this amazing restaurant on a cliff overlooking the harbour. Then, when we were back on the yacht, we sailed to this private cove he remembered as a kid, where we swam in the clearest blue water. Magical. Idyllic. I can’t even think of enough words to describe the place or the man who was with me.
Are you cheering for me now? Because I’m cheering for me. Today feels like I’m finally moving on from Billy’s death. You know he wasn’t the great love of my life, as we were more friends with benefits. But he was my best friend aside from you, and it’s been hard to let him go. Spending time with Gio, swimming, laughing, and just simply enjoying life, was what Billy would have wanted for me.
I’m a little worried that Italian men could become my weakness—or at least one particular man. And don’t get me started on their flirty nature, perfect, old-school manners, and the way they make you feel like you’re the most absorbing, beautiful woman they’ve ever met.A totally ridiculous possibility given my current basic wardrobe of clean but backpack-creased clothes. My dry skin because I left my moisturiser in a hostel in Switzerland, and a mop of untamed, wild hair that badly needs a trim.
But Gio didn’t seem to notice any of that when he kissed me in the Mediterranean or in the yacht’s posh stateroom and shower. The man has a truly talented mouth.
He just dropped me at the harbour in Sorrento before sailing off into the sunset. Aren’t I meant to still be on board when he does that? It’s okay, though, because he wants to meet me in Florence.
Today was full of fun times.
Laters, sis!
Chapter seven
Gio
The company jet gathers speed along the runway, and a glance out the window shows the lights of Naples falling away below me. Mt. Vesuvius a large shadow looming in the distance.
Since leaving Tori in Sorrento, I’ve been putting out email fires lit by my father. I don’t get why he’s so against Antonio becoming the CEO of Barbieri Foods. After all, he’s his son too. I get that Ant can be a bit hot-tempered at times and is certainly not as tolerant of my father’s antics as I am, but my gut tells me there’s more to it.
I let my head drop back onto the seat and close my eyes. Memories from my day with Tori begin to play like an old black-and-white movie reel. Swimming together, holding her in the cabin. There’s so much I still don’t know about the beautiful woman I spent the day with, and while I’ll have to wait till she’s in Florence to see her again, there’s no reason for me to stop learning more about her.
My eyes pop open, and I pick up my cell and begin to type out a text.
Me:Bella, I feel bad for having to leave so abruptly, and I wanted to apologize again. I really enjoyed today.
Almost immediately, she replies.
Tori:Bella? This is Tori. Have you already forgotten my name?
I smile for the first time in hours.
Me:Not possible. You’re unforgettable, Tori. But also very beautiful, bella.
Three dots appear, then disappear several times before the next text eventually comes through, and I’m not surprised to see she’s changing topics. I wonder why she struggles so much with compliments.
Tori:How long is the flight to Florence?
