*Olivia*
I didn’t sleep well at all. I kept tossing and turning, weird dreams waking in the oddest of monts as my heavy thoughts plagued like a bad aftertaste. I woke up late for the second morning in a row, and I was not happy about it.
Really, I just wanted to go back to bed and bury my face in my pillow for a good few hours, but I didn’t have the heart. Despite all the drama with Alessandro and Giovani, Dahlia was still my best friend, and she still needed .
Plus, Tallon was there too.
I suppressed a yawn with the back of my hand as I climbed down the stairs and headed straight for the kitchen. I could hear shuffling across the floors, and I rubbed the sleep from my eyes.
I halted in my tracks right in the middle of the entrance, blinking in surprise a few tis before my eyes connected back to my brain. The foggy signals cleared up, and I realized there were only two people in the kitchen.
Dahlia sat at the island, drinking a glass of what looked like orange juice through a swirly straw. She grinned as she spotted , waving over, and I glanced at the maid who had taken over cooking duty.
It was an older woman, one I hadn’t seen before, and she humd in a very thick accent as she fluttered around the kitchen. She was multi-tasking like she had been on one of those master cooking shows we used to watch.
I was in sheer awe of her ability to flip a pancake and scramble so eggs at the sa ti.
“What’s going on?” I whispered to Dahlia, a bit dazed.
“Ah.” Dahlia glanced at the unknown woman and then smiled. “That’s Maria. Mom and Dad sent her to take care of since I am now apparently a crippled woman.”
She rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her orange juice.
“Does she need any help?” I asked with a frown.
She looked awfully busy as she went back and forth between the hot sizzling pans, cooking up varying dishes in a flash.
“I doubt it.” Dahlia shrugged. “I tried to touch a pan, and she acted as if I had sworn at a nun. Plus, I don’t think she speaks English... or Italian.”
“Wait, what? Then what does she speak?” I asked just as Maria turned to the two of us with a huge smile and carried a plate packed to the brim with food–pancakes and scrambled eggs and bacon and sausage and every piece of breakfast food you could ever want.
My eyes widened as I spotted the homade donuts she’d stuck on the side.
“Ah, Olivia, si?” Maria grinned, but that was the only thing I understood as she began to ramble on in Spanish. She grabbed my face, turning it this way and that as she scoffed, then grabbed one of the donuts and stuck it into my mouth.
I could only bite down on it, stunned as she turned around, still firing off rapid Spanish. Dahlia sent an amused grin as I chewed silently on the donut.
It was really fucking delicious.
A plate landed in front of , and Maria winked at as she put a silver fork in my hand and patted my head with a “Vamanos.”
And then she was gone, humming as she walked straight out of the door. The kitchen fell into silence, and I stared at Dahlia, who only stared back. Her eyes were dancing with mirth as she waited for my brain to catch up.
“What just happened?” I asked, bewildered.
“I believe,” Dahlia chuckled, “that she told you to eat because you’re too skinny, but my Spanish is a bit rusty, so I could be wrong.”
I glanced down at my stomach, a bit worried now. Was I really that skinny? I poked at my arms, finding not even a hint of muscle there.
Well, damn. She was right.
“Where is everybody else?” I asked as I dug into the pile of scrambled eggs on my plate. They looked cheesy and so delicious as I stuck them in my mouth. I moaned in happiness at the taste, shutting my eyes in sheer bliss at the taste.
I’d had so good food... but Jesus, this was so really good food.
“Is she a goddess?” I asked, only half-joking as I shoveled another bite of the cheesy, scrambled goodness into my mouth.
“No clue,” Dahlia said as she took a bite of the pancakes, which I noticed with delight were buttermilk blueberry. She smiled, looking just as pleased as I was.
“Hey, Maria!” Dahlia called out.
It had to only be a few seconds, before Maria stuck her head back in, beaming as she held a basket of laundry in her hands. I noticed with a growing smirk that they were varying colors of panties and bras–matching sets to be precise.
Dahlia said sothing in Spanish, and I was beginning to regret taking French over Spanish when Maria happily answered.
“Apparently they all left this morning–so kind of business to take care of,” Dahlia translated for .
Maria pointed to the food, speaking rapidly again, and Dahlia grinned, nodding her head. Maria laughed happily, turning on her heel to walk away.
“Did you tell her the food was delicious?” I smiled.
“I told her it tasted like crack cocaine,” Dahlia winked at .
“No lie, though,” I nodded as I stuffed another forkful into my face.
After breakfast, in which we both cleaned our plates, Dahlia invited to go sit out in the garden with so cocktails. Hours of laying in the hot sumr sun were just what we needed.
Maria was quick to provide, and her cocktails were just as amazing as her food.
“I could get used to this,” I sighed, lounging in one of the beach chairs as I sipped on the frozen daiquiri Maria had made. There was nothing like the refreshing feeling of the ice in your mouth, the alcohol buzz in your brain, and the sun on your skin. I didn’t care if it was still morning. It was five o’clock sowhere.
I hadn’t realized how used to luxury I had beco, but I was slowly getting accustod to it, though I would never take any of it for granted. I knew how to appreciate it without becoming greedy for more.
“Hey, Olive,” Dahlia called out quietly. She twirled her straw in the fruity sangria, a pondering look on her face as she stared up at the sky. I couldn’t see her eyes behind the dark shades she wore, so I could only guess her feelings.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“What did you think this sumr was going to be like? I an before we got here,” Dahlia said softly. “I an, nothing’s really gone how I imagined it. Because of , you’re stuck in the house and not out making mories in Florence. It just sucks, you know?” She sighed. “I’m sorry, Olive.”
I frowned. I set down my drink, staring up at the beautiful clear blue sky above us. I shut my eyes, relishing in the warmth of the hot sun and the coolness of the sumr breeze.
Sorry, she said.
“When we first arrived....” I started, thinking back to the mont we’d landed on Italian soil, so excited and ready for adventure. We’d wanted to fit in so badly and have the ti of our lives.
“I thought we’d get a sumr tan,” I told her, smiling as I glanced at my toes. They finally didn’t have any tan lines, and the pasty pale I used to have had vanished.
“Check,” Dahlia laughed.
“I figured you’d hook up with so guy,” I smirked, rembering how Lorenzo had run her down with a moped. I still wondered what happened to him and to Adrian as well.
“Double check,” Dahlia wiggled her eyebrows, and I laughed, thinking back.
“I thought we’d go see the Piazza and try the pasta, and especially the pizza,” I told her, smiling. “I wanted to see the statue of David and hit a few museums too.”
“Check, check, check and not-check cause museums? Really, Olive?” She rolled her eyes, sipping on her drink.
I laughed, my chest swollen with the happiness I was experiencing now. I would cherish every single mory I had made on this trip for years. Even when I was old and gray, I would still tell everyone who would listen about the trip to Florence that my best friend, Dahlia, and I had made... down to the pizza and tans, the drinks and the flirty boys, even the kidnapping and the worst twenty-four hours of my life as I wondered if my best friend was dead or not, and of course, eting Giovani and all the monts I’d spent with him.
They were all irreplaceable to .
And all of it was only made possible because of Dahlia.
“Dolly.” I smiled assuredly at my best friend, wanting her to know how much I loved her. “All I wanted was to spend this sumr with you. I’d rather be here with you than anywhere else in the world.”
I couldn’t see her eyes behind her glasses, but I saw the wobble of her bottom lip and the way she clenched her drink tightly in her hands.
“Sap,” she called out, her voice wavering the tiniest bit.
“That I am,” I said cheekily, leaning back in my chair. Giovani had to be rubbing off on .
Speaking of Giovani...
“What do you think Giovani and Alessandro are doing?” I asked her. “Do you think it has to do with the Russian guys who kidnapped you?”
“Probably,” Dahlia said, unconcerned and completely confident. “They can’t be naive. They’ve lost people before, and with Gio and Alex getting closer, they’re probably sweating bullets by now. I hope they make them suffer before killing them, personally.”
I grimaced, sending her a worried look at the morbid thought. She was more ruthless than I realized, though it shouldn’t have surprised , considering who she was related to.
She was more like Alessandro, and her dad than she would have wanted to admit.
Dahlia finished off her cocktail and raised her arms above her head to stretch them. I heard a pop, and she sighed.
“Can we go in and get so lunch? I’m fucking starving,” Dahlia grinned.
“Sure, sure,” I laughed, getting to my feet. “I’d like a sandwich.”
“Yes! Quesadilla, please,” Dahlia grinned.
“For the last ti, Dolly,” I huffed as we entered the kitchen, “a quesadilla is not a type of sandwich.”
“Says you.”
“Says common sense!” I threw my hands in the air.
But just as the two of us sat down at the island, a loud slam ca from the front door, and noisy boots on the floor ca thundering into the room.
Giovani stord in, a dark look on his face. Right on his heels was Gabriele, who looked just as angry. It was like they brought in a dark cloud with them that covered the entire room.
Both of them looked ready to commit murder.
Reviews
All reviews (0)