“Do you travel much?” she asked. “Outside of work?”
We got into a long conversation about travel then. Where we’d gone, where we’d like to go…
“I’d love to spend a month or two in Italy,” she said. “I love the language, the food, the feel of it. We did a shoot in Naples once and I felt like I was in a movie. The old women talking to friends from their open windows, mopeds speeding down narrow streets, music, and the smell of food everywhere… It’s colorful and crowded and dirty and beautiful.”
“I’ve never been but it sounds amazing.”
“And the pizza!” Her eyes lit up. “There’s nothing like it in the States. The mozzarella is so fresh and the crust just disintegrates.” She closed her eyes, as if imagining it, and I smiled. She looked so comfortable sitting on my back deck, a beer in her hand, head tipped back, dressed in comfortable sweatpants and a t-shirt with a little cupcake patch on the sleeve.
“Do you let many people see you like this?” I asked quietly.
She opened her eyes and turned her head toward me.
“You mean looking like a slob?”
“That’s not at all what I meant. I just mean… free, I guess. Uninhibited. Real.”
“How do you know this is the real me?”
“I may have seen a few pictures on your social media page that resemble you in this state.”
“Graham… have you been stalking my socials?” she asked, peering playfully at me.
“You mean social. Singular,” I said. “And no. What gave you that idea.” I grinned and she laughed.
“Usually just Addie sees me like this. And her family.”
“I figured as much. I like this version of you.”
“And I like you with a little scruff on your face and am sad you let them cut your hair.”
We stared at one another, the alcohol loosening the firm structures of the walls we’d built to survive over the years, electricity crackling between us.
“Think you’d ever give me another shot at taking a walk together?” I asked, my voice quiet, afraid if I spoke louder I’d break the connection. And despite all my misgivings about her, I was enjoying this simple moment.
“That depends,” she said. “Is Brontë coming?”
“Absolutely.”
“Then yes, Graham. I’d love to.”
Chapter 24
Lior
We met the following morning at our previously designated corner, Graham looking sexy in a pair of charcoal gray joggers and a white t-shirt, Brontë looking more chipper than I’d expected, her tail wagging, her face staring up at me as she waited for me to acknowledge her.
“Good morning, sweet girl,” I said, kneeling and taking her face in my hands, staring into her clouded brown eyes and then whispering to her and kissing her nose. When I stood back up, she leaned her whole body against my legs.
“And good morning to you,” I said to Graham.
He grinned “I see what the hierarchy here is. Good morning to you too. Ready?”
“Let’s do it.”
We ambled slowly, Brontë setting the pace, Graham immediately looking apologetic.
“It’s not exactly a vigorous walk,” he said.
