Page 39 of Retrograde
She turned to face him, smiling at the sight of his face buried in the pillow. He didn’t seem utterly heartbroken, which was good. Sienna may still hold some power over him, but at least he wasn’t going to cry about it and drown his sorrows.
‘So, what have we learned today?’ She prodded his arm.
‘Lucie is always right,’ he mumbled into his pillow.
‘Sorry, what was that?’ She smiled into the darkness.
‘I said,’ he lifted his head and propped himself up on his elbow, ‘you’re always right, and you’re the only woman I’ll ever need, Sunny.’ Brett’s lips hovered above hers, and as soon as she realised he smelled like peppermint rather than alcohol, she pulled him to her.
16
Lucie hadn’t taken a solo trip in years. She used to love exploring alone, and she had been feeling suffocated lately. Being cooped up in Brett’s apartment, high up in the clouds of Sydney, was no good for her soul. So she had left him safe in the company of his family, and fled to Italy for a couple of days away from reality.
It wasn’t in her budget for the season, but she cut into what few savings she had for the sake of herownmental health. She’d been so focused on Brett’s that she hadn’t stopped to think about what she needed. And what she needed was to play tourist in one of her favourite cities.
She navigated through the crowds at the station in Rome with ease. She was used to travelling with a minimum number of belongings, but she always went over the top when the team paid extra for hold luggage or provided use of the private plane. Today, though, she’d hopped on a cheap, last-minute flight with everything she needed for approximately three days. Her sunshine keychain hung from her rucksack, reminding her of a group trip to Paris where Brett had spotted it and insisted she must have it.
It felt strange being here without him. Or without Marco, Julien, Faith or Bea. She sort of wished she’dinvited her mum, but it would defeat the purpose of a solo trip. She was good at making new friends, anyway.
As she checked into her aunt’s apartment, at the top of a three-storey building, the memories of her teen years came flooding back and almost knocked the wind out of her. Or maybe that was a result of climbing all those stairs, with a rucksack so heavy she’d felt as though she might topple backwards and fall to her death.
She’d spent a lot of time here from the ages of thirteen to eighteen. She had always been forced to bring her sisters with her, but this city had always felt like somewhere she could justbe.
The apartment was old, but it was beautiful. The floors were all wood, not a single carpet in sight. There were scuff marks in the hall, burn marks in the kitchen. The living room had an open staircase that led up to an upstairs bedroom, a double bed filling the space. There was a second bedroom downstairs, opposite the bathroom, which had huge windows that opened out over the street. The kitchen had every utensil you could possibly need, cupboards filled to the brim with ingredients. Every woman in this family was an excellent cook except for Lucie. And it was fifteen minutes from the Trevi Fountain, which she would be avoiding like the plague during peak hours.
It wasn’t quite tourist season, which would have been the worst possible time for her to have come. In a capital city in Europe, there were always tourists swarming the streets and crowding the landmarks, but in the height of summer? It would’ve been awful. Even without thetourists, she preferred to head all the way to the river Tiber, near Vatican City, and wander round, sit in cafés and just relax. It was quite far from the apartment, but she remembered it being much calmer. More up her street.
Sitting in an outdoor bar with her aunt’s old photo albums, which she had brought out to keep her occupied while she sipped on an Aperol spritz, Lucie realised her aunt was a lot like her. She didn’t have firm roots so it wasn’t worth making a house a home. She was in her fifties, single, didn’t have kids, travelled all the time, went on month-long cruises with her friends. While Lucie had loved living her twenties the way she had been, she was starting to think she might want something different for herself. It scared her. She was so used to her life, so well adjusted to her routine, or rather lack thereof, that she had no idea how she would ever transition into a new chapter.
Her peaceful Lucie-time was rudely interrupted by a man sitting two tables over from her, smacking his fist against the table as he scowled at his phone. He looked like a stereotypical Italian guy in his late twenties, early thirties. Dark hair, olive skin, gold-rimmed sunglasses and a fashion sense most men wished they could pull off.
On the third ‘Cazzo!’, she decided to intervene. Not only in an attempt to restore peace and quiet, but also to help the poor guy.
Lucie couldn’t help but admire his muscles as he clenched his fist again. Until she realised she was being creepy and if he caught her, it would be incrediblyawkward considering she was now hovering at the edge of his table.
‘Excuse me?’ she called out, hoping he could hear her over his headphones.
The man looked up, scared for his life. ‘Oh!’
‘I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you.’
‘It’s okay!’ he laughed, his accent thick. ‘Was I disturbing you?’
‘Uh… I just wanted to check you’re okay. You seem quite stressed.’
‘Oh, I’m fine. I just lost out on a work contract I’d been wanting. I was supposed to head out to Palma de Majorca today and join a charter yacht. They hired some other guy last minute. I’m Davide, by the way.’
‘Lucie. That sucks, sorry to hear that. What do you do for work?’ Lucie was always chatty around strangers, it was part of her job to be a social butterfly. To steer the conversation. It came naturally to her.
‘I’m a private chef. But looks like I’m staying here another few days, until I find a job elsewhere. And what do you do?’
‘I’m a social media manager,’ Lucie said, then realised she should be hyping herself up. This guy had a cool, interesting job and so did she. ‘For a motorsport championship. I also run an academy for women in motorsport, we do workshops and podcasts, et cetera.’
‘Seriously? That’s amazing. Take a seat, tell me more about yourself!’ He gestured to the wicker chair opposite him and she hesitated. She didn’t know why she was so nervous, maybe it was the piercing blue eyesburning a hole through her skin. ‘Unless you don’t want to! Apologies, I always like conversations with strangers on my travels.’
‘Me too,’ Lucie laughed. ‘I’ll sit! Let me just grab my things.’ She picked up her drink along with the photos and her bag, making herself comfortable at his table.
‘So what brings you to Roma?’ He looked her up and down, so subtly she nearly missed it. She couldn’t quite figure out how she felt about it, but she was going to roll with it.
