Gio and Libby were sharing a late dinner at his bistro on Libby’s last free day before her program at the culinary institute started. They had spent most of their free time together over the last few months. At first Gio had impressed Libby by not pressing her physicaly—sharing a few passionate kisses here and there but nothing more.
Now she was getting impatient.
“Thank you for celebrating so much with me this week.” Libby moved closer to him in the booth they shared.
“Prego, Mia Betta” Gio kissed her. There wasn’t the al consuming heat she had felt in Tony’s arms. But there was warmth, a slow comfortable burn.
“Maybe we could keep celebrating?” Libby winced at her own words – they were so corny!
“Aahh, Betta. I think that would be inadvisable.” Gio tucked her under his arm.
“Am I a bad kisser?” Libby was shocked into asking a question that had been plaguing her for years. And she was, for once, relieved when Gio burst into laughter.
“Oh Mia Risata!” Gio covered her mouth with a slow deliberate kiss. “You are quite skiled, I think.”
“Then I must smel bad?” Libby covered her embarrassment with a joke.
“I am afraid there is someone else in your heart, no?”
“No.” Libby wanted to be with Gio, she was sure of it.
“You wil be leaving in four months. I do not wish to make love to you knowing you are leaving.”
“Oh.” He had a point. She was leaving. And as much as she loved Rome she knew she didn’t want to live here permanently. She missed her friends and her family desperately.
“I have never been to America. Perhaps when you are finished your course and you have returned home—
perhaps I could visit you? You can take me for a motor bike tour! And then we shal see, Betta.” Libby nodded.
Chapter Fourteen
Could America have a scent? Libby was sure she smeled ‘home’ when she stepped off the airplane. Mel and John were waiting for her, and she ran into a squealing jumping hug with her best friend. It was good to be home.
“Tel me you brought gifts!” Mel joked as she linked arms with Libby and left John to grab her bags. The three of them drove back to Lindstown in a blur of conversation bouncing so quickly between Italy and Wedding plans that John wisely kept to himself.
Libby felt wonderful being home. She was even glad to see her postage stamp bedroom in Stuart’s house.
It was impossible for Libby to think of his townhouse as her home. She liked Stuart and she was glad he made her mom so happy, but it wasn’t home. Of course she was only going to stay their temporarily. She had a plan.
She was going to operate a catering/made to order business out of her mother’s kitchen. First order: Mel’s wedding cake. The idea was to build up a name, and save some money until she qualified for a business loan to open her own place. Stuart’s house would do until she had at least found a location, because she wasn’t quite sure that Lindstown could accommodate two bakery cafes. Libby was resigned to relocating to another town.
On her second day home, after eating a slightly awkward but mostly enjoyable breakfast with Stuart (her mother having already for work), Libby headed out the door for a run. She would have to make time to go and renew the membership at the Y, but in the mean time she didn’t want to get out of shape. Walking out the door, Libby had just begun her stretches when she looked up to see Tony striding towards her.
Memories did not to justice to those beautiful legs.
Nerves engulfed Tony, momentarily leaving him frozen on the sidewalk.
“Hi!” Libby bounded over to him for a hug.
Stil immobilized Tony barely managed to return her hug before she puled away. “Hi.” Smooth, Marchetti.
Tony chided himself. “Got a minute?”
“Can you keep up?” Libby smirked at him playfuly.
He wasn’t dressed for a run, but he keenly remembered his last disgraceful attempt of keeping up with Libby, and he had been training, so he agreed. They kept their pace slow and steady which Tony was grateful for in light of his heavy cargo shorts. “So are you settling back in?”
“Yeah al 24 hours I’ve been home.”
Tony winced a little. He had meant to give her more time. It was probably going to be hard for her to readjust. And then there was the matter of her needing to get over the Italian boyfriend. Tony hadn’t been able to help himself; a need to see her had overwhelmed him. Wel seeing didn’t satisfy al his needs, but it would do for now.
“Good. I know you are probably busy with umm settling in, but I thought you might like to go to the wine festival with me on Saturday?”
“The wine festival? You don’t strike me as a wine guy.”