Blue Roses(27)

“I’m glad someone knows the routine.”

I take a good look around the house. It’s very open, with few interior divisions. The walls are bare of pictures, and all the furniture is black and leather. It screams bachelor, which is good.

“Luca, your house is really nice. I don’t think I’ve ever dated anyone who lived alone in a house, much less owned one. You’re like an actual grown-up, aren’t you?”

“Tell me about the guys you usually date.” He gets back to dinner preparations. “And look away while I open this jar of pre-made spaghetti sauce from the grocery store.”

I take a seat on a tall chrome chair, and look away.

“My previous boyfriends were definitely a type. Nice guys, but I don’t know…” I trail off. Whatever did happen with those guys that made me end it with them?

Tina, do not start listing off the flaws of your ex-boyfriends. Luca is just being polite. Look at how cute he is, using one of those plastic circle things to measure the exact amount of spaghetti noodles. He’s really taking this dinner seriously. He doesn’t want to hear you whine about guys paying more attention to their video games than they did to you.

Luca looks up from the stove. “Keep going.”

I shrug. “I’ve dated some nice guys, but I guess I haven’t found what I’m looking for.”

“Keep your eyes open for someone in a red apron.” He picks up a red apron from the concrete counter and puts it on over his head, then ties it behind his back.

“Tell me about your friends,” he says.

I laugh. “Except for Rory, my friends are all getting married.”

“Is that something you want?”

I try to laugh off his question, but he keeps looking at me.

After a moment, he turns to adjust the height of the gas flame on the cooktop, then he pours us two glasses of wine.

I sip the wine eagerly. Suddenly, the house feels very warm.

Cosmopolitan magazine did not prepare me for the fifth date, at all. I was all geared up for date number four, and the sex. I think that one went well. Now I don’t know what the hell is happening.

I guess I assumed that all the dates after that key milestone would just fall into place. It’s supposed to be smooth sailing for a year or two, when it’s time to trick the guy into thinking he wants to marry you. Those articles are so stupid. I always roll my eyes, but I keep reading them.

Luca breaks the silence by asking me to help him set the table.

He serves the dinner, and we eat while making light conversation about business comings and goings on Baker Street.

What’s happening between us is easy and comfortable. Luca is great, but the house is freaking me out. I don’t think I belong here, in this grown man’s house.

Maybe there’s a reason I usually date man-children who spend their social lives online. Those guys don’t intimidate me, or make me feel like I’m not doing enough with my life. I’m twenty-nine and I live with my mother, working the same job I’ve had for a decade.

I’m like the poster girl for arrested development.

“We’re already taking bookings for the first month,” Luca says, gathering the plates to clean up.

I stare down at my empty plate with surprise. I’m already done eating? I’ve been so busy beating myself up in my head that I haven’t even been present.

Why can’t I be present and in the moment all the time, like Luca?

“Come on,” he says, holding out his hand to help me up. “Let’s go downstairs, and you can have your pick.”

He leads me back down the stairs, to all the motorbikes. It’s still incongruous to see bikes inside a house, but less of a shock.

“There’s nothing like an after-dinner ride,” he says. “This is why I went easy on the wine. You pick which bike we take out.”

“This one,” I say without hesitation. It’s the same bike we rode to the movie set.

His face lights up, like I’ve just passed some test.

He leans over the bike and starts rolling it toward the door, his muscles popping out of his form-fitting shirt. I run ahead and open the door for him.

We put on our helmets, slip into place on the bike, and ride off down the street.

The sky is gold and pink, making everything more beautiful.

We ride out of the neighborhood, and then along a park. I can tell Luca knows this route well. We turn into an area I don’t know that well, and soon we’re winding along a road that curves and bends like a meandering river.

I marvel at how instinctive it is to lean first one way, and then the other, keeping my body in line with Luca’s and the bike. The movement itself is pleasurable, like rollerblading down a gentle hill.