Page 91 of Red Zone Realizations
“Here we have very, very salty water. Salty like the ocean.” He takes a few of the pasta and drops them in. “While these cook, I will tell you a story.” I lean against the counter, settling in for whatever ride I’m about to be taken on. “Are you two married?”
Oh, great start.
I smile politely. “No, we’re not.”
Noah pipes up. “Maybe one day.”
“Women are,” Pippo begins, and I internally scream, “looking for the prince arriving with a white horse to grab them and kiss them, and they go away and get married. This is what they dream.” I glance at Noah and he’s working very hard to look intrigued and not entertained. Pippo takes a big breath that I can tell comes from years of women drama, then he continues, “The problem is after a while, they fall in love with the pirate.” He puts a hand over one eye like a patch for emphasis. This time I do chuckle and so does Noah. We’re loose from a day of standing in the sun and the evening’s wine.
Not as loose as Pippo, though. “And making somechildren, and then the pirate remembers that he’s a pirate. And he runs away.
“The lady starts to think ‘ah, but Phillipo, he was loving me so much, let me try to call him’. But Pippo now,” he pauses to slap one hand on his arm and wave his fingers in a wide arch. “No way. I’m sorry. Too late. So, now you understood.”
Noah and I are both stunned silent for a second. He gathers his wits first. “Wow. That’s… a story.”
I nod in agreement. “For sure.”
He scoops the pasta out of the water with a flick of his wrist. We watch as he skillfully mixes them with olive oil and tops them with grated parmesan. Say what you want about his womanizing or his drinking, but Pippo knows his way around a pasta dish.
Noah and I head to the formal dining room to enjoy the fruits of our labor while Pippo cleans up and preps the dessert.
As soon as we sit down, I say, “What a character.”
“I can’t think of a better person to send us off from our Italian vacation.”
I take a bite and flavors of fresh basil and quality olive oil burst in my mouth. “Oh my God.”
“The man knows what he’s doing,” Noah agrees.
“Can you imagine this life? Every day of the week going to someone’s private villa, cooking food you grew up eating while getting drunk with tourists? This is his literal job.”
“I thought I had the dream job, but between us, I don’t think I do.” I take another bite; it’s so good I nearly stuff an entire ravioli in my mouth at once. “It would be nice to not get hit for money.”
“That’s true, but then would we have ever met?”
Noah’s eyes sparkle in the candlelight between us, and I can’t help but think about that first night, our dinner at TheLush. I think I knew when Pia told me he never brought dates there that this was going to be something amazing. I just hadn’t been ready to admit it yet. “I believe that if someone is meant for you, they will always find you. It might have been later on, but we were destined to find each other in this life.”
I reach across the stone dining table for his hand, and we hold each other while we eat. The breeze ruffles the trees outside and I breathe in the freshness of the Tuscan countryside. After everything, I feel blessed to be here with Noah, to have this time with him away from my family and his team, and before the next season starts and football becomes the third person in this relationship.
It’s all worth it. Just for moments like this.
