That was fun. Already left for the office. Busy today and tonight. Lunch out tomorrow? Marcella will be on a double shift. Apartment to ourselves. V.
Stella, still naked, threw herself back on her bed and reread it a number of times. Pressing her head back against her pillow, she closed her eyes tight and replayed Vincent’s late-night corridor kiss in her mind. The tingles, the expectant thrum between her thighs . . . Then she remembered the sex that had followed. For a moment so crucial – her first intimate partner since Andrew – it had been . . . average.Veryaverage.
While she had enjoyed aspects of it, namely the intimacy and closeness, Vincent hadn’t managed to fully satisfy her as she had done for him. Stella didn’t know if he were aware of the fact, but what stung at her spirit was that she was left unfulfilled.
She grunted in frustration, and she flicked Vincent’s note across the room to land on her desk.
Stella had to make sense of the sex. Moving on with life post-Andrew counted on it. Vincent was different from Andrew. And wasn’t that a good thing? He had been attentive and caring. Perhaps it was Stella who was the problem? Were her expectations too high for a first time? Was the new territory all too much at once?
She slowly let the air deflate from her lungs, then grabbed her phone and typed:Sounds good. I’ll be at Bar Luna e Lupa this morning pretending to know what I’m doing. Painting at home this afternoon. And yes, last night was AMAZING.
Stella hit send before logic and reason could intervene.
His hands were warm and soft. Though he didn’t look like Marco, there was something familiar about him. Grey hairs were sprinkled around his ears, framing his face perfectly. Happiness beamed from him as he took Stella’s tiny hands into his.
‘You must be Stella.’ Marco’s father was joy personified.
‘Yes, I am.Piacere, Giuseppe.’ Her smile instantly mirrored his. ‘Sorry I’m a little late, but they’ve closed a few of my usual river crossings for roadworks.’ Dropping her satchel and bag of tools, she was able to reciprocate the embrace he offered her.
He took her by the shoulders and pulled her close to examine her delicate features. ‘Please, call me Giuseppino.’
Stella was amused by his preferred name, the-inosuffix suggesting a diminutive man. There was nothinglittleat all about Giuseppe; he was large in character and very full-figured.
Sensing that Stella was at a loss for conversation, Giuseppe broke the silence. ‘Marco was right.’ He paused for effect. ‘Youarevery beautiful.’
Stella felt a blush rise to the surface of her cheeks. What had Marco said about her? Did he really think she was beautiful? What should it matter anyway if he did? She had clearly caught Vincent’s attention and after last night, she figured Vincent was the one who deserved her attention in return.
She chose to shrug off Giuseppe’s comment and change the subject. ‘So, shall I get to work?’ Her question came as she started arranging a sheet of protective cloth on the workbench Marco had left for her. Unpacking her brushes and a collection of small pots of paint, she began mentally calculating the task ahead of her.
Since her first visit to Bar Luna e Lupa, Stella had consulted a few painter friends about how to best prepare the wall for her mural. Though she wasn’t entirely sure what the design would look like at this point, she knew that careful preparation of the wall itself – filling, sanding and a solid undercoat – should be her first priority.
‘Caffé, Stella?’ Giuseppe asked from behind the coffee machine.
‘Sì,grazie!’
‘Excellent. And I will give you one of Ignazio’scornetti. Have you met Ignazio yet?’
‘No, not yet.’
‘Ah well, you will one day if you are early enough. Ignazio comes in overnight and makes thecornetti,biscotti,aranciniandpanini. He works at night and sleeps during the day.’
‘That’s commitment.’
‘No, that’s the nature of the work. Bakers work while we sleep, and then we work up an appetite while they are sleeping. The cycle of hunger continues.’
Stella smiled. ‘I guess it does. Is Ignazio new to Roma, too?’
‘Yes, actually. He is my nephew, my sister’s son. He has come with us from Sicily to start the business. He and Marco are sharing a room in our apartment for now. It’s like they are little boys again.’
‘That’s wonderful.’ Smiling, Stella appreciated the closeness of their family and the special trust it would bring their new endeavour. ‘You’re lucky to have each other.’
Giuseppe brought the coffee andcornettoto Stella’s makeshift workstation. Thecornettowas dotted with sugar crystals that melted instantly on Stella’s tongue. Watching her take that first bite, Giuseppe quizzed, ‘Buono,no?’
Stella often wondered why Italians, when asking affirmative questions, stressed theyesthey were hoping to have affirmed with ano.
Not wanting to reply with her mouth full, she could only nod her hearty agreement.
She could get used to this.
