Someone Exactly Like Me by Debbie Cromack
23
Destiny
Fueled by a night of sensual dreams, succumbing to his seductions and my unbridled desires, I wake up excited to write. It’s early, and I’m the only one up. I throw on leggings and my big sweatshirt, grab my laptop, and snuggle in to one of the chaise lounges by the pool. The sun’s just breaking through the ocean, painting the sky in radiant hues of orange and yellow.
Before I begin writing, I take a deep breath of crisp morning air into my lungs, absorbing the beauty surrounding me. We’re high enough above the ocean that the crashing waves pacify into a soft hum. A bird visits me, sitting on the glass wall of the pool, tilting its head as it tweets a greeting of good morning.
Another deep breath as my bird friend flies away and I open my laptop. Words fly out my fingers through the keyboard and onto the page. As I write, I fall more and more in love with my characters and their story. Engrossed in my writing, I have no idea how much time passes. Around eight, Nicco comes out to let me know Angelina has made breakfast.
The four of us eat together, then I get showered and ready for my day with Nicco. I take the red dress he bought me out of the closet and put it on. When I look in the mirror, turning to view each angle, I can’t help but smile. I feel pretty and I do love the dress.
The smile spreading across Nicco’s face when I meet him in the kitchen tells me he’s happy to see the dress he liked on me.
We spend the day exploring the village below their villa. Large stones pave the paths through the village and many of the shop’s wares are sprinkled outside the entrance of each shop. Clothing hangs from thatched makeshift walls and baskets billow over with bags and shoes. Brightly painted façades bring the village to life. A group of men stand on the sidewalk, playing delightful, folksy, Italian music. The jolly accordion player wears a broad smile, filling the air with nostalgia.
Nicco takes me into every little shop, knowing we have nothing to buy, but just giving me a feel for the local culture.
Food is a very big thing on the island. As we stroll through the village, everything from fresh pasta, to fish, to spices floats in the air. It’s impossible not to be hungry surrounded by the delicious aromas. For lunch, he takes me to Osteria which oozes of Italian charm. Greenery and richly-colored flowers crawl up stone walls and around archways. Dim lanterns cast romantic shadows through the small eatery. Cozy two-person tables are adorned with candles and small vases of flowers.
After we eat, we get gelatos and he takes me down a side street that leads to an opening overlooking the ocean. Bistro sets provide a spot to sit and enjoy the view. We sit down at one.
“How long were you and your fiancé together?” he asks.
I’m caught off guard by his question. I wouldn’t have thought he’d be interested in knowing anything about my relationship with Kevin. He’s been so open with me about his life, I don’t mind sharing a little about my own.
“We dated for ten months before he asked me to marry him. Looking back, I probably should never have said yes.”
“Really, why?”
“It’s kind of hard to explain. I guess I didn’t feel the way I thought I’d feel when someone finally asked me to marry them. I mean, I liked him and he was a good enough guy, but there was always something missing. A deeper connection. When he asked me, I honestly wasn’t excited and didn’t even cry, and I’m a crier with stuff like that. That should’ve been my biggest clue.”
“But you said yes.”
“I did.” I pause, taking a scoop of my chocolate gelato, the best I’ve ever tasted. “This is going to sound so stupid.” I shake my head, embarrassed by what I’m about to admit. “I think I worried that if I didn’t get married soon, then I’d never get married. Ugh. That’s not a good reason marry someone. I guess, I just didn’t want to be an old maid. I told you, stupid.” I lift my shoulders toward my ears.
“No, not stupid. We all make mistakes, have regrets.”
“I should’ve broken up with him long before he ever asked me to marry him. Outside of my suspicions about him and Tessa, I wasn’t a priority for him. In a relationship, you show up. You pay attention to what your partner needs. He was never there for me.”
“Relationships aren’t easy. Sometimes we want so badly for the person to be the one, that we’re blind to the things that are missing.”
Knowing about Ana, I get the feeling his statement comes from experience.
“Exactly. I think I lost sight of myself, who I was, what I wanted. I was so focused on how old I was and how much time and energy I’d invested in the relationship. I’d given up on the idea of soul mate love and settled for what I thought was good enough.”
He stops eating his gelato and looks at me with an intense seriousness I haven’t seen before. He leans his body toward me, holding my gaze captive. “Never settle, Destiny. You’re worth more than that.”
My entire body tingles as the words spill out of his mouth.
Sitting back in his chair, he takes another scoop of gelato. “What do you want in a relationship?”
The night we met, we talked briefly about soul mates. I was tipsy and he was in full-on Mr. Playboy persona. Right now, he seems genuinely interested.
“I suppose I want what most people want. A relationship built on mutual respect and open communication. Someone who’s my best friend and I can be totally myself around, who loves me even with my faults and awkwardness. I want someone who shares similar values and life goals as me. Someone who has at least some common interests as me and actually wants to spend time with me. I want for us to challenge each other and push each other forward. To bring out the best in each other and be each other’s biggest fans. I want to feel his pain along with his passion. For me, a soul mate isn’t someone who completes me, but someone who inspires me to be complete, in and of myself.”
As I speak, a lump grows in my throat at the thought that I’ve never had these things in a relationship and maybe I want too much. I swallow, holding back the tears I know he can see welling in my eyes. “I want someone who I can rely on and trust with my life. Someone who will always be there.” I swallow again. “Someone who will fight for our relationship because they believe in our love.”
A tear escapes, trailing down my cheek. Before I can turn my face away from him, he reaches out and catches the tear with his thumb, his hand cradling my jaw.
“Don’t cry, mia dolce ragazza. You will have all of this and more.”
His tenderness is in direct contrast to the tension and disappointment twisting inside me. Though my heart wants to keep hope that I can have this kind of relationship and I want to believe my soul mate is out there looking for me, the realistic side of me has lost faith. “I don’t think so.” I shake my head and stand up, fearing if we keep talking about this, I’ll break down entirely.
Thankfully, he takes my cue, dropping the subject and walking with me. We spend the afternoon walking through the rest of the village, popping in and out of shops. At the end of one of the cobblestone streets is a small jewelry store. It’s empty when we enter except for a gray-haired gentleman behind the counter, reading a newspaper. He stands up to greet us and he and Nicco exchange pleasantries in Italian while I smile. Taking our time, we look at the beautiful pieces through the glass cases and curio cabinets.
A silver locket catches my eye. It’s delicate with intricate etching on it.
“It’s a stunning necklace,” Nicco says from over my shoulder.
“Isn’t it? It’s a locket. You can put pictures in it or even an inscription. I’ve always thought there’s something so sentimental about lockets.”
“How so?”
I turn to him. “Well, usually, they house something very dear to the person. Their children, their parents, their spouse, or a quote that has a deep or personal meaning to them. Lockets are very special. I think they are anyway.”
“You should get it.”
“Oh no. I don’t need it. Besides, I’ve spent more money on this trip than I planned to.” I pause, looking at the locket one last time. “Where to next?”
We spend the next few hours browsing through the rest of the shops in the village. By late afternoon, we head back to the villa. Angelina and I chat about the day we had while Nicco plays with Franco.
Earlier in the day, he suggested we leave at 5:30 for our dinner reservation so I excuse myself to get ready. I haven’t yet worn the two-piece white outfit Candi snuck into my luggage. I put it on, touch up my makeup, and twist my hair up into a loose bun, leaving some pieces around my face.
When I enter the kitchen where Nicco and Marco are talking and Angelina is preparing their dinner, Nicco stops mid-sentence. His eyes travel from my head to my feet and back up. I catch Angelina and Marco steal a quick glance at each other, the corners of her mouth turn up slightly before she returns her attention to the stove.
Dressed all in black with several buttons open on his shirt, exposing the top portion of his furry chest and his gold necklace, Nicco is fiercely hot.
“I, uh.” He clears his throat, turning back to Marco and Angelina. “We’re going to go to supper. We’ll see you later.”
“Enjoy your supper,” Angelina says as Nicco approaches me.
“Thank you.” I wave in their direction.
We walk out to Marco’s car and Nicco opens the passenger door for me, lingering by my side. “This is the outfit Candi packed for you?” he asks.
“It is.”
“I told you she knows how to dress her models. You look beautiful.” The tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand up. The way he looked at me earlier makes his words feel true.
When we enter the restaurant, I’m awestruck. The hostess takes us through the main dining area which is the opening of a mammoth stone cave. The rough, stony walls and ceiling lead to the open-air edge of a scenic cliff that overlooks the sea below. We’re seated at our table, suspended above the water. The view is breathtaking as the water kisses the sky. A delicate lamp curls above our crisp, white-linen draped table, providing warm lighting. Subdued live music sets a romantic mood.
The menu offers an impressive selection. I order spaghetti alle vongole that’s flecked with sharp capers and topped with a breadcrumb crunch and Nicco gets fresh swordfish with stewed friggitelli peppers and cherry tomatoes with marinated anchovies.
“Do you see that beach over there?” He points to a stretch of sand below and behind me.
“Yes.”
“That’s Frontone beach. I’ll take you there tomorrow and we’ll go for a ride on a jet ski, okay?”
“Okay, that sounds fun. I’ve never been on one.”
“I think you’ll enjoy it.”
Once our stomachs are full, we sip our wine and enjoy the view of the never-ending sea. It’s so peaceful.
“When we first met, you said your career is struggling. But when I researched you, you seem very accomplished. Even a best-selling author. How is it you’re struggling?”
“You researched me?” I didn’t expect that.
“Yes. I wanted to learn about you.”
Interesting. “I’ve been blessed. My career was booming for a long time. It’s just, the last three to four years, I don’t know. It’s like I lost something, my spark, my passion. I don’t know how to explain it.”
“It was after Kevin?”
Well, that was blunt, but he’s also right. “It was. I went on dates after him, but nothing ever lasted. My books were pretty bad during that time. If I’m being honest…” I swirl the wine around in my glass, avoiding his eyes. “I think that’s around the time I kind of gave up on the idea of love. I mean, what kind of romance author can’t even have a solid, romance-oozing, passion-filled relationship, you know?”
“Could it be that maybe you gave up on more than just love?”
“What do you mean?”
“Is it possible that you gave up on yourself?” Though his tone is tender, the words sting.
They sting because they’re true.
I take in a breath and let it out, determined not to cry.
“I think —” I look up at him and swallow. “Somewhere along the way I stopped believing in myself. I lost my footing somehow. I think I was so mad at myself for being so stupid and not seeing what was happening right before my eyes. I just got lost. And then I made up this ridiculous thing that the only way I’d get back to myself was to be alone. No men, no relationships. That’s how I planned to regain my success.”
“I take it that hasn’t happened yet?” A question that could’ve been asked with a lick of judgement is spoken with compassion.
I chuckle softly. “No, not yet.”
“Your plan is flawed.”
“Yes, I know.”
“You blame yourself for something you had no part in. You said yourself he wasn’t the one for you. It wasn’t going to work regardless of his behavior. And you are successful. You didn’t lose anything. You just let your view of yourself get clouded for a while. I don’t think you see yourself clearly. You’ve captivated me, since the moment you turned around and nearly fell backwards onto Candi’s desk.”
The world around us blurs as I’m enraptured by every word he speaks to my soul.
“I’ve read some of your books. You’re a talented author and you write with depth and skill and imagination. You bring your characters and stories to life. Your heart is pure and kind and generous beyond anything I’ve ever witnessed. You’re an independent, capable woman who’s open-minded and respects others. And you don’t compromise where your values are concerned, I admire that. Through your writing, I feel your passion. Through your actions, I see your compassion.”
I can’t move. I can’t look away from him.
“And you’re the most beautiful, sexy woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of getting to know.” He stops. His brows pinch together as the intensity behind his eyes changes. The warmth of his energy shifts to indifference. “Someday, a man worthy of you will come along and see all of these things I see in you and you’ll have your soul mate love. But first, you need to see them, believe them, in your heart.” He takes a sip of wine then shakes his head. “None of what you thought was lost is lost. Everything is there, inside you. You just need to believe in yourself again.”
I’m speechless.
I’m trying to process his words.
I can’t even form a coherent response.
I sip my wine.
“Thank you. That’s very kind of you to say all that. I appreciate it.”
“You don’t need to thank me. Every word I said is true.”
Our waiter comes by with our bill. Nicco pays and we go back to the villa. Neither of us says much on the drive. I’m still processing what he said.
Does he really feel that way? Was he simply being nice? His words sounded deeper than friendship. Am I misinterpreting something? Does he have feelings for me? I felt him shift, distance himself, like he was trying to protect himself, or me.
When we get back to the villa, he pours us wine. I excuse myself to use the restroom and put my purse in my room. Before I rejoin him, my phone chimes. It’s a text from Dad that he sent me an email. I open my laptop and read the email.
When I walk into the living room, Nicco hands me a glass of wine and we sit together on the cognac-colored leather sofa.
I have no idea how to say what I need to say. But I need to tell him.
Shifting my body toward him, I start. “I just got an email from my dad. He found Ana.”
His eyes fly open and his jaw drops. “You’re kidding me. How? Where?” His eyes flit back and forth.
“That, I don’t know. He’s not allowed to share that with me. But I do have some information that I can share with you.”
“Okay, what is it?” There’s a tremble in his voice.
“Ana had a little boy.”
He springs up from the sofa, raking his hands through his hair. “A boy,” he says, shaking his hands excitedly toward the ceiling. “I have a son.” The joy on his face as he turns back around to face me gnaws at my heart. He’s not ready for the rest of what I learned. I have to tell him, now.
Chills prick my skin. “Nicco.”
“Can you believe it? I have a son.” He shakes his hands again, toward me this time, taking a heavy breath.
“Nicco,” I say a little louder.
“And you found him for me. How can I ever repay you?”
“Nicco!” I say much louder, trying to halt his increasing excitement.
“What?” He looks at me with his brows pinched together, probably wondering why I’m not celebrating with him.
“Nicco, your son, he — he didn’t make it.” I choke out the words, swallowing chards of glass.
“What do you mean he didn’t make it? What are you talking about?” Confusion paints his face.
The lump in my throat chokes me. “He had some problems with his heart and the doctors did everything they could, but,” my swallow is excruciating, “he didn’t survive.” I can’t stop the tears forming in my lower eyelids. “He passed away two weeks after he was born.”
Nicco falls to his knees before me, anguish overtaking the momentary joy. The man who I once thought was nothing more than a testosterone-oozing, single-minded, sexual playboy crumbles into my lap like a broken little boy. He wraps his arms around my waist, gripping the fabric of my skirt in his fists, and cries. His entire body jerks as he sobs.
Tears flood out of me. I curl my body over his head, draping my arms over his back.