Then There Was You (46 page)

“Oh stop.” I nudged him with my shoulder. “You’re just trying to push me out the door faster.”

“I’m doing no such thing,” he defended himself in mock horror. Leaning in, he kissed my temple. “This weekend is going to be amazing. I’m just happy to be here with you.”

I smiled at his reflection in the mirror. “You must be reading my mind. Oh, by the way, I grabbed some brochures at check-in. There are some pretty cool places here. Maybe we can decide what to do over dinner.”

“Sounds great. Now let’s get a move on,” he teased, smacking me on the butt.

I squealed then shooed him away as I applied the smoky eyeliner around my eyes. “You can’t rush art,” I joked.

Before long, we were heading down the highway on our way to dinner. Chris had rented a luxury town car for the weekend. It felt like we were driving a yacht compared to my little Elantra, but the soft leather seats were so comfortable I could almost camp out there.

Twenty minutes into the trip and I’d almost dozed off. “Where are we going?” I said sleepily from the passenger seat.

“You’ll see,” he said, sounding way too pleased with himself.

I huffed, teasing him. “You like to tease people, huh?”
You’ll see.
He’d said the same thing when he’d surprised me with his new recording studio back home.

Chris just smiled. “Let’s make it even more fun. Here, put this on.” He handed me a bandana.

“A blindfold?” My eyes widened, looking at the gray fabric, reminded of that sexy trilogy I’d recently read. I shivered at the thought.

Chris smiled, clueless. “Yeah, it will be fun. You know how much I love surprises.”

“Okay,” I said, skeptical. I tied the bandana around my head and covered my eyes. “I just hope I don’t get carsick.”

“You won’t,” he assured me, rubbing his finger against my thigh. “We’re almost there.”

It felt like we were driving around in circles with the blindfold on my head. I had zero sense of direction, and it certainly didn’t help that Chris’s hand found its way to my inner thigh, softly caressing the exposed skin below the hem of my skirt. I found myself losing my concentration more than once during the trip. Finally, we made the last turn, and Chris stopped the car. As long as we’d been on the road, I knew we couldn’t be in downtown Chicago anymore, unless he’d just been driving around aimlessly.

“Sit here. I’ll come get you,” he whispered. “Don’t take off the blindfold.”

“Okay,” I told him, trying to get my bearings, to no avail. I resisted the urge to cheat and peek out from under the bandana.

Within seconds, he opened the car door and pulled me from the vehicle.

Slipping his arm around my waist, he guided me toward my surprise. “Just a few more steps,” he assured me. His deep, throaty hushed tones sent shivers down my spine.

Excitedly, he held onto my shoulders and directed my feet for their exact placement. Standing behind me, he grasped the blindfold.

“You ready?” he whispered.

“As I’ll ever be,” I said, trembling with excitement.

Removing my blindfold, I opened my eyes. There, standing before me, was the most magnificent sight. A replica of the Leaning Tower of Pisa stood majestically in the middle of a downtown square.

“Chris!” I exclaimed. “Oh my god, it’s… it’s…” I couldn’t find the words.

“It’s where your dad brought you when you were five,” he said softly.

Tears immediately sprang to my eyes. I couldn’t believe it. “Oh, Chris, you remembered… This… Oh my god, this is the most amazing gift ever. Thank you!” I threw my arms around him, kissing him like there was no tomorrow.

Chris smiled under my kiss. Pulling away he said, “I figured you couldn’t have imagined all that, so I did some research to find this place. Turns out you didn’t dream that day up with your father after all. It just wasn’t in Italy like you thought. Instead, it was in Niles, Illinois.”

This wonderful man went to such lengths to help me relive a stolen memory in my life. My father had been gone for thirty-three years, but the moment I saw the tower, thoughts of my daddy holding my hand as we stood on the balcony of that beautiful tower flooded my head.

Wiping the tears from my cheeks, I whispered, “Thank you so much. This means so much to me.”

He curled his arm around my waist, turning to look the majestic building. “You’re so welcome. I’d hoped it would.” Chris said softly, clutching me by my waist. “I checked with the city. We can’t go in. The building has been shut down for years, but we can still enjoy dinner.”

I looked around the empty parking lots nearby. We’d managed to drive out of Chicago and end up in a small village town. The site of the leaning tower reminded me of the downtown square back home. Trees were planted and fountains were built, but people were lacking. It was a quaint little area. “Dinner?” I asked, wondering where all the restaurants were.

Chris slid his fingers down my arm and clasped my hand. “Yep,” he said as he led me to a tiny table set for two near the fountain in the square with a perfect view of the beautiful tower. A red checkered tablecloth with a vase full of roses adorned the table. Sliding the chair out for me, Chris motioned me to sit down. “Mia bella signora,” he said, with a gentleman’s bow. “My beautiful lady.”

“Wow,” I whispered. “You did all this for me?”

“And then some,” he said with a smile.

A man carrying a tray approached our table. “Buona sera. Good evening,” he greeted us.

“Buona sera,” Chris responded.

“Vino?” the waiter asked as he placed a wine glass in front of me, pouring a few ounces.

I swirled the glass and tasted it. Just sweet enough, but not too sweet. “Perfect. Thank you,” I said.

The waiter then poured some wine for Chris and disappeared behind the building.

I looked at Chris who flashed that adorable half grin that I couldn’t get enough of. “This is wonderful, Chris. I just can’t believe you remembered my story from all those years ago.”

Chris’s expression grew serious. “It was the moment I saw you as a person. Not just as a counselor doing her job, but an honest to God
person
, with life experiences and feelings, and hurt and pain.” He paused, seemingly remembering the significance of that moment for him. “It was the moment that changed everything in my eyes.”

I looked up at the tower, remembering the moment my dad and I sat on the sidewalk enjoying an ice cream cone after our climb to the top. It was one of the happiest days of my life… or dreams, as my mother insisted. Sitting here with Chris, I realized after all these years, that day with my father really
did
happen. Thanks to Chris, I’d just learned that my most precious memory with my dad hadn’t been merely a grieving child’s dream after all. I could almost hear the sounds and smell the scents from that day, a moment etched into my memory forever.

Tears slipped from my eyes as Chris held my hand across the table.

“I love you, Salem,” he said, eyes brooding with intensity.

My heart was bursting. “I love you too, Chris.”

Just then, three young men walked toward our table.

I recognized the three faces from a recent interview on my favorite early morning news show.
Il Volo.
The famous Italian pop trio with the voices of opera singers. They immediately began to sing one of their more popular songs, “Màs Que Amor.”

I snapped my eyes back to Chris, surprised. “Il Volo? How did you…?”

“I’ve got connections.” Chris said with a wink.

I couldn’t translate the words, but the song was absolutely breathtaking.

“Wanna dance?” Chris asked.

“Of course,” I told him as he pulled me from my chair.

Grasping my waist, he pulled me close. I could feel the heat of his breath in hair as we gently swayed back and forth. The cool, crisp scent of his cologne wafted in the air. Leaning my head into his chest, I paced my breathing with the beat of his heart. I melted into him, feeling the warmth of his body against mine. Listening to the three Italian voices croon with their spine-tingling operatic voices, I found myself smiling against Chris’s chest.

As the song came to an end, I lifted my head to look at Chris. He stared down at me with those deep, soulful eyes with which I had easily fallen so hopelessly in love. Leaning down, his lips found mine, soft at first then increasingly more eager. The softness of his lips caused my heart to pound and my stomach to clench. I loved this man more and more every day. I never knew that kind of love before him.

Just then, the waiter returned with his tray. Chris and I sat down as he placed the plates on table in front of us.

“Courtesy of La Tavola Trattoria,” the waiter boasted. “Salmone al ferri e Veal Chop Rosmarino.”

“It looks delicious,” I said, my mouth watering with the smells that wafted off the plates.

Chris smirked as if he knew a secret. “Remember the ravioli from that Italian restaurant that you told us you loved the day your dad brought you here?”

Even after thirty-three years, I could almost taste the sauce in my mouth. “I remember not wanting to taste it because it had ‘green specks’ in it. My dad promised me it was delicious, so I tried it. Then I ate the entire bowl. Best ravioli I’ve ever had. The funny thing is I remember it so well because I insisted that they misspelled ‘ravioli’ on their menu. They left the ‘i’ off the end. I told our server that the cans in my pantry didn’t spell it that way. The waiter just laughed when I told him that. Oh, and when my dad read the menu to me, I couldn’t understand why they’d named their salmon ‘Carlos.’”

Chris smiled. “I remember. That’s how I found out that your dad took you to a place called Carlos & Carlos in Chicago. The owner of that restaurant, Juan Carlos Montiel, opened another restaurant not too far from here called La Tavola Trattoria.”

“Are you serious?” I squealed. “You did all that research, all this planning, just for me? Chris you are so amazing.” I squeezed his hand across the table.

Lifting my fork, I took my first bite of the salmon. I could almost hear the heavens open up and angels sing the Hallelujah chorus. The bite practically melted in my mouth, coating my tongue with flavor.

Wide-eyed, I mumbled with a mouth full of food, “This is fantastic.”

“I thought you might say that,” Chris beamed.

We ate in silence for several minutes while Il Volo continued to serenade us. For a few minutes it almost felt like we were actually
in
Italy.

“Grazie,” Chris thanked the waiter as he came to pick up our empty plates. “The food was delizioso.”

“Sono contento,” The tall, thin, balding waiter gave a little bow. “I’m glad you like it. Happy to make this evening special.”

The waiter scurried off with the plates on his tray as Chris stood up and reached for my hand. “Just one more tiny surprise,” he said excitedly. “Come with me.”

I placed my hand in his and he guided me toward one of the larger fountains, front and center of the tower.

“You’ll get the best view from here,” he told me as we sat down together on the ledge.

“What is it?” I asked, looking around at the same scenery we’d been seeing for the past hour.

Chris shook his head. “You should know me by now… you’ll see.”

I laughed and shook mine too. “I thought you’d say that.”

Just then, the first firework shot off in the distance, exploding behind the tower.

“Wow!” I cried, watching the colorful blast of red and white sparkle in the night sky and illuminate the stately monument.

One after another, fireworks blasted and twinkled in the dark. I watched in awe at the beauty of it all. “Thank you so much for this,” I told Chris.

Chris just smiled, nudging me gently with his shoulder. Suddenly I realized that no other man on earth could make me happier than the one sitting beside me.

I watched as the finale of fireworks erupted simultaneously. Losing myself in the beauty of the tower against the backdrop of tiny sparkling explosions, tears glistened in my eyes as I considered all the thought, research, and planning Chris did to make this night memorable. I turned my head to look at him. He’d stepped away from the fountain and was now kneeling in front of me with a very familiar black guitar in his hands. My hands immediately flew to my mouth.
Oh my god! He kept it all these years!

Strumming a few chords, he held my gaze. “I remember the first time I sang for you,” he said softly. “I remember watching you walk across that cafeteria holding this same guitar in your hand. You floated like an angel across that miserable place like you were carrying a basket of manna to satisfy my hunger for music. Your smile was contagious. You were so beautiful back then, and even more so now. But you are
so
much more than just a pretty face.” He grazed his fingers across the chords, sucking a breath as if he had prepared a speech.

He continued with a smile on his face. “You have a heart of gold. I love how thoughtful you are, how caring. I love the way you want to help people. I love how you make me want to be a better person. You give me confidence and make me feel special, but it’s more than just the way you make me
feel.
I love how you inspire me, how you teach me to enjoy life, how you encourage me to reach for the stars. I love you for showing me how to give love and how to accept love—even after all I’ve been through. I love
me
when I’m with you.”