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“Always has.” He kisses me quickly. “Go, woman, get away from me. Go rub that arnica shit on the bruises you can reach. Drink your water.”

“I know. Hydrate.” I don’t enjoy being even a foot from him, given the PTSD- Pretend To Still Be Dead Syndrome. I’m going to be dealing with that for the rest of my life. He’s dead. He’s not dead. This was delightful, and I’m not sure I even want to dive into therapy about it.

I do all the things, then go back to our gate. I sit down. Then I buy a latte with a ten, and I realize that my first food in Italy is flipping Starbucks.

It’s been fifteen minutes, and I make my way to the departures floor and exit, scanning the cars. He’s leaning up against a door. He opens his arms and scoops me up as I run to him. Then kisses the hell out of me, as if I’ve just returned from war. His tongue slides into my mouth, and my lips open to his and I moan. His fingers grip the back of my neck, and I sink into this moment. There’s a freedom and urgency to his kiss.

I back away from him. “What are you up to Mr. Pietro? You’re never about public displays of affection.”

He kisses my forehead and swats my butt. I bite my bottom lip. “You’ve never known me when I wasn’t hiding. I’m all about the PDA.” He grabs a handful of my ass and I squeal. “No one’s watching. No one knows where we are. I’m dead. You’re missing. And my Gingersnap, we’re free, if only for a moment. Let me show you this.”

“Italy,” I say breathlessly. I’ve wanted to come here my whole life. He ushers me into the car, and I nod to the driver. He barely fits in this car and speaks Italian to the man.

“We have a small journey. A little family business to attend to.” I smack his giant arm.

“Why didn’t you tell me she was here? I figured she was squired away somewhere but not Italy.

“Then you wouldn’t be liable for knowing.”

“You die, theoretically, and decide it’s best to keep secrets. Even fake dead, you kept those secrets. I mean we could have teamed up.”

“Like a terrible detective show? Red and the Italian, coming Thursdays at eight. Nah. That shit is a bad idea.” He pulls me closer to him, and I resist just a little.

“You don’t know. She might love me.”

“Can’t risk your sanity. She’s me, but with a lot of fucking hormones.”

“Watch yourself. Your misogyny is showing.”

“Misogyny, is it? You know better, or is that my dick’s new name?” He places me onto his lap and nips at my shoulder. I smile at him. We kiss slowly then I settle back against him. I’ve basically attached myself to him like a baby kangaroo in a pouch.

He pulls off my hat and fluffs the big waves in my hair. “Anyway, you’ll see my father’s village and the house there. I think you’ll feel right at home.”

“And I own a different house here too, don’t I?”

He whistles and says, “What seemed like a good idea, to give my wife all that I have, has turned out to be a major pain in my ass.”

“Sorrento.”

“Yes. My favorite place in the world. My mother’s ancestral home is by the sea. We’ll go there tomorrow.”

I exhale and look out the window at the rolling landscape and it looks a lot like Sonoma. I try to scramble off his lap and he resists. “I want to see.” I complain.

“You’ll see plenty. Come here.” I roll my eyes and turn to him. He places me next to him. “That’s better.” He puts his arm around me and I relax into him. Putting my head on his chest and looking out of his window.

“The view is better on the other side.” I try to sit up.

“No. My view is better than all of this.” I look up and his dark eyes are so dreamy and vulnerable. He usually only looks that way after an orgasm. He kisses me softly. He leans forward to the driver and says, “Cambio di programma. Piazza Navona 93 Grazie. E sbrigati.”

I sit up and try to remember my Italian. “Change of plans?” I get up on my knees as the car whips around in a U-turn in the middle of the damn highway. Sal catches me as I slide in the seat. The driver careens in the direction we just came from.

“Rome?! You’re taking me into Rome. There’s so much I want to see.”

He grins and attacks my lips. My body goes molten as I sit back down to try and get closer to him. His hand wraps possessively around my hip and he digs his fingers into me. I moan into his mouth.

“You’re not going to see much.”

“Will there at least be a window in the room?”