Page 92 of Someone Exactly Like Me (Wounded Hearts 1)
“I already have a picture of us at the Hollywood sign.” He reminds me.
“Um, okay. That’s fine.” As I put my phone in my purse, a light breeze blows my hair around my face and I tuck the stray pieces behind my ear. “Tell me when you’re ready.”
“Okay, smile.”
I smile and I think he takes a couple pictures. He comes over to me, stands next to me, and flips through the pictures.
“Nicco.” I look up at him. “There are so many.” He was taking pictures while the wind was blowing my hair.
He shifts his gaze from his phone to my eyes. “You’re a beautiful subject to photograph, mia —” He stops himself and looks deep into my eyes. “We should start going back down now. The sun will set soon. We can decide which ones you want when we get home.”
We start back down the hill and my feet are aching. Just as I’m considering taking off the sandals and going barefoot, he scoops me up in his arms.
Caught off guard, I gasp as I instinctively wrap my arms around his neck. “Nicco, you don’t have to carry me.”
“I know I don’t have to. I want to. This was my idea and I didn’t think about your feet.” He continues walking.
A few minutes later, we reach the bottom of the hill and go directly to the car. On the way home, we order food for dinner.
I’m so grateful to be back at his house so I can take off my sandals. He goes to the kitchen to put our meals onto plates and I go to my bedroom to put away my things. When I empty the shopping bag, the two floral dresses and the red dress with white polka dots are in the bag. Sitting on the bed, I scan my mind of our time in the boutique. I know I asked him to tell her I wouldn’t be taking these. Did he misinterpret what I said? Did she misinterpret what he said? Ugh, I really need to learn the language a little more if I ever visit another country again.
He knocks on my door.
“Come in.”
He opens the door and walks in. “Dinner’s ready. How are your feet?”
“Okay, great.” I chuckle. “They hurt a little, but they’re okay. Um, I think maybe Maria got confused about the dresses.” I gesture to the three dresses I’ve laid on the bed. “I only wanted to buy this one,” I say, placing my hand on my chest.
“Don’t you like these?” He opens his hand toward the dresses then crosses his arms at his chest.
“I do, but —”
“Good, then they’re yours. I bought them for you for your birthday.”
“For my birthday? But, Nicco, you already got me something for my birthday. Something extravagant that really wasn’t necessary,” I say, standing from the bed.
“I gave you an experience, not a gift. These are a gift. And before you tell me you can’t accept them, you should know it’s considered rude to not accept gifts here.”
I glance at the dresses on my bed and rub my finger across my lips. “Um, thank you. That’s very generous of you.” While I don’t feel right accepting them, I already know how stubborn he is and let it go.
“Come on,” he says, walking toward the door. “Let’s eat. I’m hungry.”
We enjoy dinner, sitting on our pillows at the coffee table in front of his white leather sectional and talk about the day’s adventures.
“Do you want to soak your feet before we eat our dessert?” he asks, taking the last bite of his lasagna.
“I’d love to, but there’s no tub in my bathroom.”
“Not in yours, no, but I have one in mine. It’s nice and deep too. You can take a bath if you like.”
Oh, jeez. Naked in Niccolo Mancini’s bathtub. I don’t know. My feet sure would feel better. I’ll be quick, in and out.
“Okay, I’d like that.”
“I’ll get it started for you.”
“I’ll clean up out here.”
