Only To Be Without, Book 1

Memories #3

(June, 1983 Napoli, Campania, Italy)

He had seen her in the salon at the brothel, talking to the fat priest and had demanded of Regina that she spend the night with him instead. Regina had refused to make that decision, said that Apollonia would have to make that choice but she thought Nicola might have more luck asking her on a date and not offering to pay for one.

That was how it began.

"How do they make this?" She moaned and he laughed as an older woman near them cast a scandalized glance in their direction.

"Magic," he teased and she stuck her tongue out at him, the naughty girl.

"It is delicious."

"It is an abomination." Nicola replied with amusement. "Lemon jellies, fruit slices, peaches, strawberries, honey, whipped cream..."

"You forgot the gelato," she said smugly.

"There is room for gelato in that monstrosity?"

"Vanilla and chocolate," she uttered proudly, taking another giant bite.

"You will regret that, silly girl," he said, knowingly.

As if on cue, she let out a pained mewl, pressing her hand to her forehead as he chuckled.

"Silly girl." He repeated.

Ever the height of maturity, she threw a slice of strawberry at him, and the old couple beside them soon left their table with the old woman clucking loudly about the riffraff.

Nicola laughed louder.

"You are causing problems. I cannot take you anywhere," he said, with mock sorrow.

She grinned at him, her tongue between her teeth.

"Take me to your home. I will make a dessert out of you," she whispered loudly, knowing there was no one left to hear that mattered.

"Vito, go get the car please." Nicola said, without looking at the man reading his paper one table away.

"Yes, Mr Chiellini."

The paper rustled shut and Nia shot him a smug look, taking a smaller bite of her sweets this time.

"I love you," she murmured, and almost three years after she had first whispered the words, he felt he would never tire of them.

"And I you, piccolo."

She looked down, still embarrassed even now, the lashes thick as brushes against her pale cheeks, and he imagined her as still human, the soft skin tinted pink with a blush and warm beneath his fingertips.

He heard the quiet rumble of an engine beside the patio.

"Come," he said and stood to pull her chair from beneath her. In kitten heels, she rose barely to his chest and he bent slightly at the waist to press a kiss upon her cool forehead. She beamed up at him, green eyes alight, and it warmed his heart as it always did.

Vito had removed himself from the driver's seat and had looped around the vehicle to open the back door.

"Thank you," she spoke softly, coolly polite and ever regal and he smiled until he realized the trifle glass was still in her hand. "You cannot take that with you, little one."

She scoffed.

"Of course, I can. Pay the man for it, Nicola."

"Bambina prepotente," he chided. Bossy little girl. He clucked his tongue and she stuck hers out in return and went back to consuming her saccharine abomination.