Mr. Big(57)

They shared wine from a bottle together and ate. He sat beside her and watched her now and then.

“Isabella tells me that you are recovering from a broken heart,” he said softly, and his eyes took in hers carefully.

She sighed and picked up a stone from the ground near her where she sat, holding the hot rock in her hand and feeling its smoothness in her palm. “Kind of. I guess so,” she said quietly.

He nodded. “I know what that feels like. I had a broken heart too, last year. I was in love, but the girl left, and I had to take the time to get over her. It was difficult to do. I am sorry that you are hurt. I am sorry that there is a man out in the world who would let you go! You are a beautiful woman, and I like you; you are very sweet, but I do not think that maybe this is the right time for you to try to find love with another man. Do you?” he asked, looking at her as if he already knew the answer.

She thought about it. She wasn’t entirely sure that it was the right time, but she didn’t know if there was ever going to be a right time; she was fairly sure that she would always love Alexander, and that there wouldn’t be a time when she was over him.

“I guess I don’t know,” she answered in confusion, her smile faltering slightly. He saw it, and he nodded slowly.

“You still love this man?” he asked hesitantly.

Mia nodded. “I do. I think I’m always going to love him.”

He smiled a little and looked out to the sea. “This heartbreak is a new one for you?” he asked, glancing back at her.

“Yes,” she said simply, setting the hot stone back down on the ground in the sunshine where she had picked it up.

He pursed his lips and shook his head. “This is not the right time for you to be with another man, then. It would only leave you feeling empty and hurt more, and I do not want to be the man that makes you feel that way,” he said with a wistful sigh.

Paolo reached for her hand and took it in his, giving her a warm smile. “I wish that it was the right time for you; you are a beautiful woman and I would love to make love with you and spend time together with you while you are here, but I think that it would be best if you were friends with me while you are here on this trip. Perhaps someday if you come back and you are alone, it may be more, but for this time, I think we will be friends. Yes?” he gave her a gentle grin.

She felt her heart soften and warm toward him, and she was suddenly filled with gratefulness for him, and for Isabella and Marco, good friends from strangers in a strange land; something she had never expected that was exactly what she needed. She grinned back at him and squeezed her fingers around his.

“I think that’s very kind and very wise of you, Paolo, and it means a lot to me. Thank you so much,” she told him.

He laughed lightly and looked at her closely, “Grazie mille…” he told her. Then he looked up as if he was concentrating and trying to think hard and he said, “A million thanks?” as if he was working out the English translation of what he had taught her.

Mia laughed with him and nodded. “Grazie mille, mi amico?” she asked, wondering if that was how she would say it.

He nodded. “A million thanks my friend. Yes! Very good!” he told her happily.

They enjoyed their day out on the beach and the sea, and he took her back to Positano in the late afternoon, hugging her and kissing her cheeks as she said goodbye to him. He waved off the other men at the small boat dock and they laughed lightly as she headed back to the bed and breakfast.

She took a long nap, and for the first time in a long time, she didn’t dream of Alexander; she dreamed instead of the sea, and of new places and people, and when she woke for dinner, she was more relaxed than she had been in weeks.

Mia spent the following day exploring the village and all the shops and winding streets and staircases that seemed to go ever upward, vanishing her and reappearing there; it was as if the entire mountainside was one big treasure box filled with secrets and hidden delights. She loved it, and she found a little more of herself there as her day passed.

Marco and Isabella were a little disappointed that she was not going forward with any kind of romance with Paolo, but they were pleased that she was friends with him, and that she was feeling a little better bit by bit. They fussed over her and took good care of her, and she basked in the glow of their affection and attention.

Her third day there, she was lying in a chair on the beach just outside of the bed and breakfast, reading a book. The sun was warm and bright and she laid the book on her chest and pulled her sun hat down low over her face, and she fell asleep. In her dreams, Alexander was talking to her, but she couldn’t quite understand what it was that he was saying to her, try though she might.