I reach for a glass on my bed stand and take a big gulp of water, allowing the sleep to fade away so that I can think more clearly.
I am intrigued by this new woman, by her open and curious face, by her interesting eyes, by her beauty.
I want her. This dream was a testament to that. And I haven’t wanted anything for a very long time.
The knowledge is startling.
I can’t fool myself into thinking that her beauty does not play a part in my fascination. Of course it does. She is breathtaking. But it isn’t just that. She’s smart and confident in a way that I haven’t quite seen before. She’s a very capable person. Except when she’s dealing with a spider.
I smile at the memory and realize that I’m once again gripping my pillow. I release it, tossing it to the other side of the bed. I flex my fingers and as I do I see that there is blood beneath my fingernails.
I cringe, the familiar horror lodged in my chest, surrounding my heart. I numbly rise from bed and walk quietly into my bathroom, scrubbing my hands as vigorously as I can. I’m surprised I don’t take the skin from the bone, but it remains firmly attached to my hand. It wouldn’t matter to me either way at this point.
I stare into the mirror and like always, I don’t like what I see. I saw my reflection in Evangeline’s horrified stare. She saw me for what I am. I don’t give a f**k if it was a dream. She can see through me.
I look away and dry my hands, then slide down the tiled wall until I am resting against the cool stone. I lay my head back and close my eyes. I’m very weary. Not tired, but weary. And there is a difference.
But as I sit with my eyes closed, her face passes through my mind yet again. Her smile flashes in my memory and I suddenly find myself wanting to meet with her again, even though I shouldn’t.
I know where she lives. I could swing by unannounced and bring her a bottle of wine as a welcome to Malta gift. I could check to see if she has had any more uninvited spider guests. I could… do nothing.
I can’t.
I can’t endanger her in such a way.
And suddenly, I feel my reality crushing upon me in a way that I haven’t felt in years. I have long since reconciled myself with my life. But now, tonight, it seems too great a burden to bear.
And try as I might not to think of her, I fall asleep sprawled on the bathroom floor thinking of her gray-green eyes.
Chapter Five
Eva
I decide to take the bus into town. I’m not sure why, but I know that if I don’t expose myself to people from the very beginning, I might be inclined to become a hermit in my little shore-side cottage. And the entire reason I am here is to finish up my research, an endeavor that will involve people.
On the trip to town, I sit next to an older woman and as we chat, I compile my list of her traits in my head. Beaten down by life, tired, negative.
I decide that I don’t like her energy. She’s very jaded and worn-out, and I know that nothing in this life will make her happy. I have already decided that I won’t be following up with her by the time she gets off at the next stop. By this time, I also realize that I don’t much like the bus. There are babies crying, people coughing and an overwhelming stench of body odor. I fight the urge to pull my shirt up over my nose.
I feel like a witch, but I haven’t eaten anything for breakfast and the smell is threatening to turn my stomach. I’m headed to the market to buy supplies for my kitchen, but I’m going to have to eat something first. So when the bus reaches the downtown area, I disembark and hunt for a café.
It doesn’t take long to find since there’s practically one on every corner.
I duck into one, a quaint little coffee shop with little bistro tables clustered on the sidewalk, and stand in line to order a coffee and a Danish. I never feel quite human until I’ve had a cup of coffee in the morning and so while I stand in line, I tide myself over by inhaling the rich aroma of the freshly ground beans.
As I wait, I hear a couple of women murmuring behind me in the line. They sound surprised and interested in something. And I accidently pick out the words “Luca Minaldi” in their conversation. This immediately snags my attention and I turn, only to find them watching the sidewalk. I follow their stares and find Luca himself standing outside.
My breath catches for a moment.
After my imaginary romantic interlude with him, I dreamed about him for most of the night. So it seems strange and a little startling to find myself staring at him in person for the second time in as many days. He’s standing in the morning sun, looking chic and rich and sophisticated in black slacks and a gray striped dress shirt, open at the neck. He’s every bit as beautiful as he was in my head last night. I don’t know what he is doing here now, but he appears to be waiting for something. Or maybe someone.
I can’t decide what to do. Should I approach him? Thank him once again for killing the spider? Thank him for his ‘participation’ last night? I silently laugh at that one, imagining the look that would result on his face from that conversation. I am surprised by how much I’d like to talk with him again.
As I’m pondering how to go about it, he turns and his dark, dark eyes meet mine.
His head is slightly ducked as he looks at me from under his bangs and his face is expressionless, almost hard. But his eyes….they are smoldering like nothing I’ve ever seen, like he knows something intimate about me, like he knows what I’m thinking.
Like he knows what I was thinking last night.
My heart takes off like helicopter blades. My lips part and I can’t decide whether to smile or call out, but then he turns away. And he’s gone.
I pay for my coffee and hurry to the door, but by this time, he is long gone, swallowed by the crowds that are milling about on the sidewalks. I have no idea where he went but it is obvious that he didn’t want to stop and talk to me, regardless of what I saw in his eyes.
I don’t know what I did to offend him and I try not to allow my feelings to become ruffled because I don’t think I did anything at all. He seemed fine when he left my house yesterday. Perhaps he’s just having a bad day.
I decide to sit at a little table rather than become jostled through the crowds, which would likely result in spilled coffee. So, I sit and try to forget about Luca Minaldi snubbing me. I try and forget about the burning expression in his eyes. I try to forget about my own traitorous and naughty thoughts about him. It’s difficult, but I focus and eventually, I am distracted by watching the people around me.