Someone Exactly Like Me by Debbie Cromack

19

Destiny

When I open my eyes, it takes me a few seconds to remember I’m in Italy, in Nicco’s house. I’m surprised by how well I slept. Stretching my body across the bed, under the floral sheets and cozy cream-colored comforter, I bathe in the sunlight filtering into my room through the ivory lace curtains. My room is a stark contrast to the decor I saw in the living room last night. The furniture is a light-colored wood with soft edges and carved details. A vase of bright flowers sits on the nightstand along with a small ivory lamp adorned with a champagne-colored shade. It’s feminine and calming. I can’t believe he did this for me.

I’m being ridiculous. I’m in Italy. Who knows if I’ll ever have a chance like this again? I’ll really get a sense of it from a local person’s point of view and it’ll be invaluable research for my book.

A local person. No, not a local person. Niccolo Mancini. Nicco. I can do this. I just have to keep reminding myself that this little fairytale ends.

Getting out of bed, I open my suitcase and grab my sweatshirt that’s on top. I should probably hang my clothes today. I was so flustered and tired last night, I didn’t unpack anything but my toiletry bag. Putting on my sweatshirt over my camisole and shorts, I go look for Nicco to see what our timing is for today.

The house is quiet. He’s not in the kitchen or living room. I peek out on the patio off the living room to see if he’s out there having a cigarette. He’s not.

“Nicco,” I call out, peeking down a hallway I think leads to his bedroom.

No answer. Maybe he didn’t hear me. I walk cautiously down the hallway, the terracotta tile cold under my bare feet.

“Nicco?”

Still nothing. Where is he?

His bedroom door is open. I know I shouldn’t go in, but I can’t stop myself. The view of the headboard on his bed sucks me in. Spanning the length of his king-size bed is a massive, intricately carved, gold woodwork frame that curves and turns, crawling up the wall. There’s a crest at the top with a garland of flowers beneath it. The fabric inside the frame is a royal, burgundy-red and gold Renaissance pattern that matches the spread draped over the bed. It’s stunning and fit for a king.

Nightstands adorn either side of the bed and are as striking and regal as the headboard. Is that…? I step closer to the foot of the bed. Resting on top of one of the nightstands is a notebook and pen. Sitting next to them — it is — is the seashell I picked up and gave him on the beach.

As I’m admiring the regal-ness of his bed, my mind goes in the wrong direction. I wonder how many women have been in his bed. More than I want to know about, that’s for sure.

“Do you like it?” That deep, low hum of his voice startles me, causing every hair on my body to stand up.

I gasp and spin around, stepping on his feet and crashing into his chest. He grabs hold of my arms.

“Nicco,” I say, stepping back off his feet, trying to catch my breath. He releases his grasp on my arms. “I’m — I’m sorry. I — I didn’t mean to invade your privacy. I just — I couldn’t find you and I came down here and — and the door was open. I shouldn’t have come in.”

“It’s okay.” He smiles, heating the air in the room. “You’re welcome to be in here.” He digs his hands into his pockets and shifts his eyes from me to his bed. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Like a piece of artwork.”

I turn to look at it again. “It really is. Exquisite.”

“It’s the first big thing I bought for myself when I got my first paycheck from the movie.”

“I’m sure you’ve put it to good use.” That came out a bit more spiteful than I meant it to.

“No.”

I turn back to him.

He towers above me. His face, expressionless. His eyes burning into mine. “I don’t bring women here.”

The air grows thick around us.

“Are you hungry?” he asks. “I went down to the bakery and got some cornetti and fette biscottate.”

“I don’t know what they are, but they sound good.”

He turns, unblocking my path to the door, and extends his hand toward the doorway.

We eat breakfast and I go back to my room to unpack and shower. As I start hanging things in the beautifully carved wardrobe closet, I can’t find one of the dresses I thought I packed. My bikini is also missing. I dig farther in case they got shuffled around in transit. When I get to the bottom, I pull out a two-piece white outfit and a black thong bikini. Candice!

When I’m dressed and ready, I meet Nicco in the living room. He scans me from head to toe.

“What? What is it?”

He smiles. “You kind of look like a tourist. It’s my fault. I didn’t tell you. Most women in Italy wear dresses. You don’t have to wear one if you’re not comfortable. But you would look nice if you wore one.”

“Oh. Well, I had a dress, but it seems Candi switched out a few of my things. So, all I have is a dinner dress and a less suitable dress Candi snuck into my suitcase.”

He laughs. “Candi has good taste in dressing models. I’d like to see it on you.”

“Uh, it’s not really for a day walking around town.”

“Okay, then I’ll take you shopping first.”

I hadn’t planned on spending money on anything but food while I’m here. I suppose it would be kind of fun to get a new dress, in Italy. It’ll be a souvenir from my trip.

“Okay. A new dress would be nice. And it seems I have some extra money to pay for it.” I squint at him.

He shoots me a wicked smile. “I thought you meant $100.00 an hour.”

“No, you didn’t. You knew exactly what I meant.”

“Well, it’s done now.” He shrugs and smiles.

He drives us to a little town close to where we’ll be exploring and takes me straight to a small boutique shop. When we walk in, the shop is quiet with only two women shopping. The woman behind the counter looks up, stops what she’s doing, and smiles broadly as she steps out from behind the counter.

Walking toward us, she opens her arms and embraces Nicco as they kiss one another on both cheeks. Then they engage in a quick chat in Italian.

“Destiny, this is Maria. She’s my mother’s best friend’s daughter and she owns this boutique.” He then says something in Italian using my name so he must be introducing me.

I smile at her and she beams back at me saying something to him. I have no idea what she said, but she seems very excited. She steps in toward me and kisses me on both cheeks, holding my shoulders in her chubby hands.

“Pleasure,” she says, still beaming at me.

“Si, pleasure.”

They start rattling off in Italian again, both of them eyeing me up and down. She makes different hand gestures, sizing me up. It sounds like he’s explaining to her the things we’ll be doing because I hear some of the words he said last night. She says lots of, “ah”s.

She tilts her head and cinches her hands together around my imaginary waist. “Lei é cosí piccola.”

He chuckles. “Si.” Then he says something else I don’t understand.

“Si, si,” she says and scurries off, her thighs swishing together under her dress.

“I told her a few of the things we’ll be doing and she’s going to pull some dresses for you. She said you’re tiny, but she has some things that will fit you. You’ll need a sweater to cover your shoulders when we go to the churches. Did you bring one?”

“I brought a sweatshirt.” I cringe a little, thinking that a sweatshirt probably isn’t suitable.

He chuckles. “Okay, we’ll get you a sweater. Feel free to look around while Maria gets some dresses.”

“Okay.” I wander through the boutique. It’s filled with so many pretty dresses from casual dresses to full length gowns you’d wear to a ball. There’s a whole separate room with stylish shoes, classy jewelry, and beautiful handbags. Though I don’t need a dress, I have to admit that walking around the Italian boutique feels like I’m living in someone else’s dream life.

“Destiny,” Maria sings out my name and waves me toward her.

I walk over to her and Nicco meets me there. She talks excitedly in Italian and gestures to the dresses in the fitting room, holding up a few to show me the backs of them.

She walks out and I walk in. “Grazie.” I tried to learn a few important words and phrases before I came.

“Prego.” She claps her hands together, her smile spreads across her full cheeks.

Nicco sits across from the fitting room in a large fancy chair that’s covered in red velvet. “Come out when you try them on. I want to see them on you.”

“Okay,” I say, closing the curtain. Out of the ten dresses, there are two I don’t like.

As I put on the first dress, nude sandals are slid under my curtain. I put them on and they fit perfectly.

When I come out in a red, wrap maxi dress with white polka dots, he stands up. The dress has a low V-neck and ties at the waist.

“I like this one.”

“It’s pretty. I don’t know if I’d wear it again when I get back home though.”

“Try on the others,” he says, sitting back down.

I try on the rest, liking two floral ones and the one I have on. It’s a pretty green halter with tiny white flowers.

“I like this one,” I say, as I spin in front of him. “But I like the two floral ones too. I’m not sure which one to get.”

“Why don’t you try them both on again and then you can decide?”

“Are you sure? You must be getting bored.”

“I’m not bored. I’m enjoying my fashion show.” He smiles that sexy smile that melts me.

“Okay, I’ll be quick.” I gather the dresses I don’t want and hand them to Maria. “Can you tell her I won’t be taking these?”

They talk back and forth as I close the curtain and change into one of the floral dresses. I come back out and spin. He nods. Then I put on the second one along with the white cardigan Maria put in the room for me. I come back out again. He nods again.

“What do you think?”

“I like them all,” he says, rubbing his scruffy chin with his index finger.

“You’re no help,” I tease, spinning once more in the mirror. “I think I like the green one best.” I go back in the room and change back into the green halter dress. Then I show him once more.

“You look very pretty,” he says, standing up.

Maria walks over and says something, her face bright with a smile. I hand her the two floral dresses.

“Can you tell her I’ll take this one I’m wearing?”

“Of course.”

They chat and she walks away.

“Turn for me? You can’t walk around with a tag on your dress.”

I turn my back to him. He sweeps my hair across my back and over my shoulder, grazing my skin with his fingers. My inhale is slightly audible. I see him smile in the mirror as he snaps off the tag.

“Thank you.” I step forward, away from him and back into the fitting room. “I’ll be right there. I just need to change my shoes.”

He goes toward the register while I change my shoes. With my clothes and the white cardigan in my arms and Maria’s sandals in my hand, I head to the register.

She has a hint of a frown on her face and starts waving at my feet, then gestures up and down at me, sputtering Italian.

Nicco laughs. “She says you can’t wear your sneakers with that dress. You must wear the sandals.”

“Oh. I’d only planned to buy the dress and cardigan.” I look down at my feet, realizing my sneakers do look a little silly with the pretty dress.

“It looks better with the sandals.”

“Um, okay. Can you have her ring them up for me? I’ll go put them back on,” I say, handing her my credit card.

“Yes. I’ll wait here.”

I find a chair and change out of my sneakers, putting on the sandals. So, I didn’t plan to buy a dress, a cardigan, and shoes. Oh, well. This is a once in a lifetime trip. I’m not going to overanalyze it.

Going back to the register, I hand her my sneakers for the bag she has ready with my clothes in it. She takes my sneakers and wraps them in tissue paper before putting them into the bag, making sure to put the white cardigan on top.

“Grazie, Maria.”

“Prego, Destiny.” She smiles, handing me my credit card. She drops the receipt in the bag and hands the bag to Nicco. Then she comes out from behind the counter and gives each of us kisses on our cheeks.

Nicco drives us to Quartiere Coppedè where we wander the small town and I marvel at the impressive buildings. The architecture is breathtaking. Massive arches trimmed with intricately carved stone figures, every window embellished with more carvings, and huge statues that look like they’re holding up the building. There are influences of Greek, Baroque, and even touches of Gothic and Medieval design. A splendor of antiquity. Weaving through the streets, we come upon the Fountain of the Frogs in the middle of the town. Five streets meet at the circle of the grand fountain.

“It’s magnificent,” I say, in awe at the enormity of it.

Human figures adorn the base, spitting water from their mouths, while the top of the fountain houses eight stone frogs separated by chunks of green moss.

“Can we throw coins into it?” I ask.

“No, but you can still make a wish if you want.”

When I close my eyes, I feel him lace his fingers between mine. I don’t want this to end. Taking a deep breath, I open my eyes and let it out.

Still holding my hand, he turns to me. “Are you hungry?”

I squeeze his hand gently. “Nicco, people will see. You’re very recognizable here.”

“I don’t care. Are you hungry?”

“I am.” Having no idea why he’s holding my hand, I love the way it feels.

“Then let’s go eat.”

We walk, hand in hand, back to the car where he opens the door to let me in. He drives us to Trastevere where we have a light lunch and walk around the narrow cobblestone streets. Each ochre-colored building has arched passageways, flower-filled balconies, and doors with antique doorknockers.

Once we’ve finished looking through the markets, he takes me to Janiculum Hill where we hike our way up to the top. While these sandals are very cute and have been pretty comfortable for much of the day, the hike is starting to hurt my feet and my pace is noticeably slower the higher we go.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“I am. My feet are just starting to hurt a little with all the walking in these sandals.”

He looks down at my feet. “Oh.” He raises his eyebrows and rubs his chin. “I didn’t think about that. I don’t know how women wear these shoes. We’re almost at the top. Do you think you can make it? I promise the view is worth it.” He smiles.

“Yes, I can make it.” I’ve come this far. I’m not stopping now.

“When we get home tonight, you can soak in my tub and then I’ll rub your feet.” A flirtatious smile spreads across his cheeks as he continues walking, slowing his pace to match mine.

About five minutes later, we reach the top and the panoramic view is stunning. A bird’s-eye view of Rome and picturesque terracotta and white buildings that spread for miles, blending into the mountains.

“We can stay here for a while until your feet feel okay to go back down.”

We gaze over the view of the city, quietly, breathing in the sun as it descends. He steps away to have a cigarette and I take a few pictures.

“I’ll take your picture,” he says as he returns to me and gets out his phone.

“Here.” I hand him my phone. “You can take it with mine so it’s not on your phone.”

“You don’t want your picture in my phone?”

“No, I just…” My tongue twists inside my mouth.

“I already have a picture of us at the Hollywood sign.” He reminds me.

“Um, okay. That’s fine.” As I put my phone in my purse, a light breeze blows my hair around my face and I tuck the stray pieces behind my ear. “Tell me when you’re ready.”

“Okay, smile.”

I smile and I think he takes a couple pictures. He comes over to me, stands next to me, and flips through the pictures.

“Nicco.” I look up at him. “There are so many.” He was taking pictures while the wind was blowing my hair.

He shifts his gaze from his phone to my eyes. “You’re a beautiful subject to photograph, mia —” He stops himself and looks deep into my eyes. “We should start going back down now. The sun will set soon. We can decide which ones you want when we get home.”

We start back down the hill and my feet are aching. Just as I’m considering taking off the sandals and going barefoot, he scoops me up in his arms.

Caught off guard, I gasp as I instinctively wrap my arms around his neck. “Nicco, you don’t have to carry me.”

“I know I don’t have to. I want to. This was my idea and I didn’t think about your feet.” He continues walking.

A few minutes later, we reach the bottom of the hill and go directly to the car. On the way home, we order food for dinner.

I’m so grateful to be back at his house so I can take off my sandals. He goes to the kitchen to put our meals onto plates and I go to my bedroom to put away my things. When I empty the shopping bag, the two floral dresses and the red dress with white polka dots are in the bag. Sitting on the bed, I scan my mind of our time in the boutique. I know I asked him to tell her I wouldn’t be taking these. Did he misinterpret what I said? Did she misinterpret what he said? Ugh, I really need to learn the language a little more if I ever visit another country again.

He knocks on my door.

“Come in.”

He opens the door and walks in. “Dinner’s ready. How are your feet?”

“Okay, great.” I chuckle. “They hurt a little, but they’re okay. Um, I think maybe Maria got confused about the dresses.” I gesture to the three dresses I’ve laid on the bed. “I only wanted to buy this one,” I say, placing my hand on my chest.

“Don’t you like these?” He opens his hand toward the dresses then crosses his arms at his chest.

“I do, but —”

“Good, then they’re yours. I bought them for you for your birthday.”

“For my birthday? But, Nicco, you already got me something for my birthday. Something extravagant that really wasn’t necessary,” I say, standing from the bed.

“I gave you an experience, not a gift. These are a gift. And before you tell me you can’t accept them, you should know it’s considered rude to not accept gifts here.”

I glance at the dresses on my bed and rub my finger across my lips. “Um, thank you. That’s very generous of you.” While I don’t feel right accepting them, I already know how stubborn he is and let it go.

“Come on,” he says, walking toward the door. “Let’s eat. I’m hungry.”

We enjoy dinner, sitting on our pillows at the coffee table in front of his white leather sectional and talk about the day’s adventures.

“Do you want to soak your feet before we eat our dessert?” he asks, taking the last bite of his lasagna.

“I’d love to, but there’s no tub in my bathroom.”

“Not in yours, no, but I have one in mine. It’s nice and deep too. You can take a bath if you like.”

Oh, jeez. Naked in Niccolo Mancini’s bathtub. I don’t know. My feet sure would feel better. I’ll be quick, in and out.

“Okay, I’d like that.”

“I’ll get it started for you.”

“I’ll clean up out here.”

When I’m done cleaning up the kitchen, he comes to get me and we walk back to his bedroom. Don’t look at his bed. As I enter the bathroom, it’s like I’ve been transported to a luxurious spa. The white marble tub is brimming with bubbles, the chandelier casts a dimmed glow over the room, and calming meditation music surrounds us. A tray sits near the tub, holding a gold, three-arm candelabra with lit candles, a sea sponge, and a white towel.

“Do you need anything?”

“No. This is perfect. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Take your time. I’m going to have a cigarette and maybe write some music.”

He closes the bathroom door and I undress, twist my hair up into a bun, and dip a toe into the water, testing the temperature. Just right. I step in and sink into the bubbles. As my body relaxes into the heat of the water, the painted floor-to-ceiling mural draws my gaze. The cobblestone street is lined with stone-façade apartments. Flower pots line the walkway, every arch is adorned with a garland of colorful flowers, and every window sill is dressed with a window box full of more flowers.

Closing my eyes, I let my body fall limp as the music sings softly in my ears. About fifteen minutes later, I remember the sponge on the tray. Dipping it into the water, I drag it across my arm, squeezing it and letting the water fall back into the bubbles. Another few minutes of sponging and soaking and I’m ready to get out, tired from the long day and wanting to get some sleep.

Getting out of the tub, I towel off. Shoot, I didn’t bring in anything to change into. Maybe he’s still having his cigarette out on the balcony and I can sneak across to my bedroom unseen.

I wrap the towel around me and walk quickly toward his open bedroom door.

“How was your bath?” He’s sitting on his bed with a notebook and pen.

I gasp, startled, and tug my towel tighter. “Very relaxing.”

“Good. Come here,” he says, spreading his knees.

My heart pounds as I try not to breathe loudly. My steps are hesitant. Standing between his knees, I look down at him.

A sultry smile dances on his mouth as he reaches up and twirls a piece of my hair around his finger.

“I like these wet curls around your neck.” He moves his eyes to my hair wrapped around his finger. Whether he does it intentionally or not, he quickly runs his tongue across his upper lip then his lower lip. “Are you ready for dessert now?”

Breathe!“Yes, I — I just need to get changed. I forgot to bring pajamas in with me.”

“I see that,” he says, releases my hair from his finger. Goose bumps cover my body. “Go get changed and I’ll meet you in the living room.”

“Okay.” I turn immediately and walk quickly out of his bedroom, down the hall, and across to my bedroom.

Closing the door behind me, I flop back on my bed. It was nothing. I can do this. Sitting up, I take off my towel and put on my camisole and shorts. Grabbing my sweatshirt, I put it on and go back out to the living room.

Our tiramisus from last night are on the coffee table and he’s sitting on the sofa with the TV remote in his hand.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” he asks.

“Sure. You pick something.”

Grabbing a plate, I sit in the corner of the sectional, tucking my legs under me. Finding a movie, he sits back and takes the other plate.

“Oh my gosh, this is so good,” I say, eating my third mouthful.

He chuckles at me, blowing air through his nose. “I’m glad you like it.”

When we’re both finished with our tiramisus, I take our plates to the kitchen and rinse them in the sink, then put everything in the dishwasher.

I’m not sure how long I’ll last watching the movie, but I sit back down in my corner.

“Lie back and give me your feet,” he says, moving closer to me. “I said I’d rub them for you.”

“It’s okay, they feel much better now.” I don’t think I can handle him rubbing my feet.

“You are stubborn.” He reaches out both arms, wraps his hands around my ankles, and tugs them, laying my calves across his thighs.

Oh God.

Looking forward at the TV, he starts massaging my feet.

“Ooo. Gentle, they’re still a little tender.”

He immediately lightens the pressure of his strong hands. “Better?”

“Yes, thank you.”

While he watches the movie, I can’t focus on anything but him rubbing my feet. His strokes are long and slow, downright sensual. Every now and then, he looks down into his lap at my feet as he rubs them.

After a few minutes, my body finally relaxes and I lie back into the cushions, closing my eyes, wallowing in the bliss my feet are experiencing. His kneading into the arch of my foot feels so good. He focuses on my left foot, rubbing and kneading. Then he moves to my right, massaging with long strokes. He moves his hands to my ankle, his thumbs rest on my shin as his fingers move up my calf. Inching farther up my calf, he slowly works his fingers into my muscles.

As he moves his hands farther, passing my knee, pressing his thumbs into the bottom of my thigh muscle, his long fingers extending up and around the back of my thigh, I’m a mixture of relaxed and completely turned on. I can’t open my eyes. I can’t know if he’s watching me. I focus on steadying my breath.

His slow strokes reach farther up my thigh. My breath stilts as it leaves my mouth. I tingle between my legs, choking down a moan.