Love's Not A Competion

When In Rome

We stopped at a cafe in a back street for a late lunch. We'd parked the scooter down the road and walked along to see what we could find.

"This place is unreal!" I grinned. "I'm so glad we came to Rome. It's so beautiful!"

"It is." Ricky grinned too. "I love not having any plans. Apart from our list of places to go."

"Let's do all the cliches! Eat spaghetti, go to the Colosseum, throw coins in the Trevi Fountain! All the tourist stuff!" I told him like an excited child.

"Only thing is..." he paused. "Please don't break my ribs while we're on the scooter."

"Oh no!" I gasped. "I'm so sorry!"

"It's ok." he laughed. "You don't need to hold on so tight. I won't let anything happen to you."

"Sorry." I blushed.

The next day a few bruises were coming up on his ribs from where I'd been holding on too tight. I kept apologising but he would shake it off and say it didn't hurt and looked worse than it felt.

The rest of the week went by too fast. I loved the peace of being two loved up people in their own bubble in a big city. The city itself was crazy. Cars and scooters would zoom past at break neck speed in narrow roads and tiny cars would park in any available gap, even in the middle of a pavement which made me laugh. I sent a text home to mum each evening just to let her know we were both safe and full of delicious food.

On the last morning of our holiday we got up stupidly early to get to the Colosseum before the rush. Every time we'd passed it during the day the queue could have circled it twice. Instead of breakfast at the hotel we ate al fresco at a tiny cafe in a quiet street. A lady with enormous sunglasses and sharp clothes walked her yapping rat like dogs up and down the street a few times. I had a cheese and spinach toasted sandwich with hot chocolate while Ricky had a ham, tomato and basil toasted sandwich with a tiny cup of espresso. He very kindly waved the smell of his coffee away from me. In England I'd have hated the idea of eating in a street while small dogs peed in pot plants but it was different here. Pigeons would poo on you or wait around for scraps in London. Everyone did it here and you know what they say; when in Rome...

"This is so thick my spoon almost stands up." I told Ricky regarding my hot chocolate.

It felt like melted chocolate and could be a chocolate spread for toast if it cooled down. This would fill my tummy for hours. Oh god, it was good.

"You look like you might leave me and marry it." he laughed.

"Not a bad idea..." I pretended to ponder. "Me and the chocolate wouldn't have as cute babies as we will though." Oh no! I'd said it out loud! Play it cool, maybe he didn't hear.

"We're going to have kids then?" he asked.

Oh crap, we were going to have to have the talk I'd been dreading. How do I tell my boyfriend of only four months that I want to have his children right now?

"I'm not pregnant if that's what you're asking." I said quietly.

"No, I know, but elaborate on the kids subject." he stated matter of factly. "How many do you want?"

"Two." I replied. "At least two."

"Boys or girls?" he asked.

"I don't mind." I said.

"And who do you think they'll be most like?" he asked.

"I hope they're like you. All big blue eyes and cheeky grins with your excitement and talent. Not like me, I'm boring and was a little fatty" I laughed.

"You were fat?" he laughed. "Can't imagine that! You're skin and bone now! And you're not boring. You're a lot funnier than you give yourself credit and very intelligent. I'm surprised you didn't go to Oxford too."

My brother had a BA in Biology to the great pride of our late grandmother. I only had a diploma in make up, much to her constant disappointment. The feeling was mutual.

"I did go to Oxford." I pointed out.

"Really?" he asked. "You kept that a secret!"

"To do make up on college drama productions with friends. And to visit my brother." I added and winked cheekily.

"Ha!" he laughed so loudly it echoed down the street. "Good one!"

"No one says you have to be a student there to do make up for their plays. It's a good loophole!" I pointed out.

"See, that's what I mean when I say you're clever and funny." he told me. "That was quick!"

We kept up our silly banter as we walked over to the Colosseum with our arms around each other. It was quite warm already and it was still early. Some shops weren't even open yet.

We were almost at the front of the queue after a bit of shuffling around in a line when the subject of children came up again.

"I think our children should have good old fashioned British names like Ernest and Hector." Ricky announced.

"My bother's middle name's Hector, after dad's dad who died way before our time." I told him.

"Hector Wilson." he said, seeing how the name sounded. "Oo, I like that."

"Hector Richard Wilson." I smiled. "He sounds like a commander in the First World War."

"That's the kind of vibe I was going for." he nodded.

"Georgiana's nice." I noted. "Mr Darcy's sister in Pride and Prejudice."

"Oo, that's posh!" he grinned. "We're going to have some fancy named kids."

We didn't get to talk about this much more as it was our turn to buy our tickets in our really bad Italian and my smattering of Portuguese that kept popping up.

"I'm impressed that you can slip some random Portuguese in there." Rick told me.

"It's not very useful in Italy though!" I laughed.

We wandered around the colosseum for quite a while. It was an impressive place even now when it was half in ruins so I could only imagine how big and grand it must have been in it's time.

"Look at that cat!" Ricky laughed and pointed to a black cat asleep in the sun on a ruin.

"Aww!" I laughed. "He looks happy!"

"Wouldn't it be funny if all those years ago when the gladiators and prisoners had to fight to the death against lions and bears but one day that little dude's ancestors prowl out instead?" he asked.

"I wouldn't be very scary if you were there and they shouted "fetch the cat!" and Fatty waddles in and mews at you." I laughed.

"Oh, he'd win!" he laughed. "He'd rip my arm off in a flash!"

"He's now that bad!" I laughed.

"He still hates me!" he protested.