Page 31 of Bella Rosa
I open the front door of the building for her and direct her to the stairs.
What if I like the way she looks in my place too much? This can't last. I can't get attached.
Too late.
19
Let Me In
Rosalie
Myheartisinmy throat as we walk up the four flights of stairs.
I can't believe how nervous I am. I've had dinner with Matteo almost every night for the past week. Why am I getting nervous now? Who am I kidding? We both know this isn't just dinner. This is everything. At least to me anyway. This has been one of the best days I've had since coming to Italy, and my time in Italy has been the best I've had since my father passed.
I miss him. I miss the memories we could have made. I miss the advice he would have given.
Matteo stops in front of the door to condo number twelve which brings my thoughts back to reality. He shifts his bags to one arm to dig his key out of his pocket. He unlocks the door and steps inside. There's no need to turn on a light. The natural lighting coming in through the large windows brighten up the room beautifully. The condo is exactly as I expected. Modern but warm. Minimal but stylish.
I can see the large kitchen to the right with bar stools around the island. The smaller living area to the left holds a large dark brown leather couch and a coffee table with magazines spread out on top. There's a hallway in the middle of the two. We both set our bags down on the kitchen island. Matteo leans against the counter and crosses his arms as he watches me take in his space.
"Would you like a tour?"
I nod my head. "I would like that very much."
"Good." He leads me into the main living area. He turns and motions toward the kitchen. "As you can imagine, this space looked very different when I bought this place. I basically remodeled the entire living area and kitchen. I also did some work in the bathroom, but everything else is original."
He lets go of my hand so I can explore the kitchen on my own. "I bet you spend most of your time in here."
"Yes. That's why it takes up most of the living area. Cooking is like an escape for me. It's the way I relax."
I turn back to look at the living area. "So no TV then?"
"I wouldn't say that. I like to watch movies every now and then." He walks over to the coffee table and pulls up on the edge. The table top lifts up to be the perfect height to sit on the couch and eat.
There's also plenty of storage under the table top. I can see a few card games and more magazines poking out. Matteo grabs a remote and presses a few buttons. A screen directly across from the couch starts to come down and a projector turns on overhead.
I walk over and sit on the couch. "How did I miss that before?"
"I like to keep the electronics hidden away. Want to see the bedroom?" He wiggles his eyebrows at me as I stand from the couch. I can't help but laugh as we walk down the hallway until we reach the last door.
He opens it to reveal a king sized bed with black bedding and a nightstand on either side. There's a large dresser on the right with a mirror above it. There is also a door that I assume leads to the bathroom along the same wall. On the left are more beautiful windows that showcase the view of the street.
He walks in and opens his arms to motion around the room. "It's not very big, but I spend most of my time in the kitchen and living area anyway."
"I'm pretty sure your bedroom is the size of my apartment in New York. This is like a mansion to me." I'm in awe as I take in the photograph of the Italian coast on the wall above his bed. "It's beautiful."
He walks over so he's standing behind me. My breath catches in my throat. He's so close. I could lean back only an inch and make contact. "I took that during one of my trips to the Amalfi Coast."
The scene looks so similar to photos of southern France. I feel a pain in my chest that I so often try to forget, try to push away. This time though, I let myself feel the loss of a father, of a friend. I'm facing away from Matteo, so he can't see the look of anguish I am trying—and failing—to keep off my face.
I can hear him start in the direction of the kitchen. "Would you like to make some lemonade with the lemons from the market?"
I use the brief solitude to pull myself together as best I can before replying, "That sounds wonderful." As soon as I round the corner to the kitchen Matteo stops in his tracks. He abandons his work at the kitchen counter and comes over to me.
He places both of his hands on either side of my face. "What's wrong, Rosa?"
The compassion in his eyes continues to break down my walls. Tears start to flow down my face. The feeling of crying in front of someone is so foreign that I can't even think of the words to say. Matteo's face is full of desperation. "Let me in, Rosa."
