“Olivia Kaspen,” he repeats, “That’s a very poetic name.”
“Well, that’s about the strangest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
I pull a face and he smiles.
“What do you do for a living?” I ask, trying to sound pleasant. Oh, my gosh—I just broke up with Turner—oh-my-gosh!
“I own my own business. You?”
“Lawyer,” I say. I look down and see that my hands are shaking.
“I have to go to the ladies room, do you mind?” He shakes his head and scoots out into the aisle so that I can get past. I almost knock a little girl and a stewardess over as I stumble toward the signs for the lavatory.
Once inside, I collapse in front of the toilet and throw up.
Shit, shit, shit, shit.
My entire life has changed in the last few hours and I’m just now realizing it. Turner, poor Turner, but not really, because he dated me for Superbowl tickets. But he loved me, right? Did I love him? No. It was the right thing to do, breaking up with him. It was the only thing to do. I rinse my mouth in the sink and lean back against the wall. This was insanity; rushing off to Italy, chasing after my ex-boyfriend- all on a whim. What would my mother say? I stifle a sob and bite my lip. Alone in Rome; I didn’t even speak Italian, for Pete’s sake. This was bad. This was really, really bad.
I go back to my seat and Noah graciously lets me in without a word about my swollen face. After taking a few large swigs of my flat soda, I slide two fingers underneath my eyes to clear up any smudgy mascara and turn to Noah, frowning.
“I’m not going to Rome on business,” I say, and he doesn’t look surprised. Why should he? He doesn’t know that I’m a perpetual liar.
“Oh,” he says, raising an eyebrow, “Ok.”
I take a deep breath. It feels exhilarating to tell the truth.
“I’m going to find Caleb Drake and when I do, I have to tell him the truth about everything. I am so scared.”
He looks at me with new interest. I’ve transitioned from being a pretty girl, to a woman of intrigue.
“What type of truth is it?”
“A messy one. There’s going to be a lot of clean-up,” I sigh.
“I’d like to hear about it.”
I shift under his gaze. He has the intensity of a nuclear weapon in those two green orbs.
“It’s a long story.”
“Well,” he says raising his hands and looking around the cabin. “It’s going to be a long flight.”
“Okay. I’ll tell you on one condition,” I say, pulling my legs up to my chest and holding them there. Noah looks at my knees and then my face like he can’t quite grasp why a grown woman is sitting like a little girl. “You have to tell me the worst thing you’ve ever done.”
“The worst thing I’ve ever done?” he looks off into some distant memory and grimaces.
“When I was in the ninth grade, there was this girl in my class whom we called Felicity Fattness. As a prank I snuck into her backyard and stole a pair of her underwear off the line and then hung them on the schools front door with a sign that said, Felicity Fattness Wears Parachute Panties. When she saw it, she burst into tears, tripped over her school bag and had to be rushed to the emergency room to have five stitches put into her chin. I felt horrible—still do actually.”
“That was mean,” I say, nodding.
“Yeah, she’s a total babe now. I saw her at my high school reunion and asked her out on a date. She laughed at me, said I’d already seen her panties once and it wouldn’t be happening again.”
I laugh—a real laugh, so that my whole body shakes. Noah joins me. I am still smiling, when I realize that I have another boy scout on my hands.
“So, Felicity? That’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?”
“I stole a magnet from the dollar store once.”
“Oh boy,” I say. “I’m not sure you’re ready for my story.”
“Try me.”
I look at his face and remember how Caleb once told me that you could judge someone’s personality by their appearance. If this is true, I decide that I can trust Noah because he has the kindest eye’s I have ever seen.
“I fell in love underneath a tree,” I began.
Twelve hours later
It is raining in Rome and I am standing outside of the De La Ville Inter-Continental Hotel, hiding underneath a goofy yellow poncho that is barely shielding me from the pouring rain. I don’t know why I am here right at this moment, as nothing can be accomplished with me looking like a drenched rat. But, I feel the need to see his window and to look at the view his own eyes had been enjoying all morning. Their hotel is small but opulent and it sits majestically on top of the Spanish Steps. I can imagine that you can see the whole city from their little balcony. How romantic. I sigh and continue watching. There is movement behind the window and then a familiar red head emerges and crowds under the awning with a glowing cigarette in her hand. Didn’t she know that nicotine negatively affected fertility?
“Keep smoking,” I whisper, narrowing my eyes. A second later the door pops open again and looking like a Roman god, Caleb emerges to join her. He is shirtless and his hair is damp from a shower, he most likely just took. I pretend that my heart is not doing the electric slide and wipe two fingers underneath my eyes to clear away the mascara that is pooling there. Don’t you touch him, don’t—she reaches out a hand and runs it along his chest seductively. Caleb catches it at the waistline of his pants and laughs.