Three, Two, One

At night, the city streets became arteries of light, red, amber, blue, and white like blood cells pulsing and streaking. Everything was bigger.

Louder here. There was a heartbeat of rumbling engines, planes flying overhead, and crosswalk buzzers.

Everywhere she looked, there was something new to see. It was a world of wide avenues, a myriad of stores, both luxury and affordable, bars and places to eat, quiet little spots, and over-hyped internet-famous joints.

The city had it all. She loved to visit it, but would never live there. The noise and bustle would become a torment even to her.

Sirens blared and flashed, horns honked, and the whoosh of the buses was the soundtrack to the glittering spectacle.

The stars above couldn’t compete with the blinding lights casting a pale glow akin to a dome around the towering steel and glass buildings high above.

Her wild imagination thought they were like broken, blunted teeth sprouting from the ground to nibble at the sky.

Emilia watched through the passenger window, the bright yellow taxis snaking through traffic, the laughter of women and men dressed to the nines as they barhopped, and the vibrancy of life well lived clear to see.

“Mel threw up outside of that club there! Rico’s. She still won’t go back.”

She had chattered animatedly as she pointed out the spots she haunted when free to enjoy herself.

And the bars Oliver had gotten banned from because he wouldn’t give anyone else a chance on the karaoke and had monopolized it so he could sing Beyoncé songs all night.

Luke had listened like she was telling him something of great importance and smiled at her as he’d navigated the packed road.

It took a little longer than expected to find the hotel he’d booked for the night because of the heavy traffic.

A gorgeous light-colored building bedecked in vibrant green canopies above the door. And offered some shelter for the outside seating for their downstairs bar.

Patrons smoked, grey clouds of nicotine enshrouding their heads as they sipped from gleaming glasses.

He slowed down, turning to drive around the back and enter the nearly full parking lot behind it. They only carried a bag containing a change of clothes and necessary toiletries for each of them.

Luke took it with him as he went inside to check them in. She savored the moment; her pulse speeding up, and a shiver tingling down her spine as her mind wandered.

She wanted to put their hotel room bed to work right away!

But she also looked forward to an entire evening of quality time with Luke before returning to work. When he came back, he no longer carried it and intertwined his hand with hers as he led the way.

Their destination remained unknown to her. Luke refused to budge despite her interrogation.

His warm fingers squeezed hers as he guided her around a gaggle of cackling people, drunk and stumbling as they tottered to the next bar.

Her smile hurt her face as he kept her close, dark eyes checking she hadn’t vanished whenever a crowd swallowed them—her swooning heart rolled in her chest every time it happened.

They only had to travel a short distance to the restaurant. A nondescript building that had no windows or loud livery to proclaim it as an eatery.

Her eyes scanned the squat, red-brick establishment as Luke strode for a set of concrete stairs contained by a black metal gate.

She followed him and eyed the black iron sign above the red door and wondered how he knew it was there when he first came here.

She must’ve run past it a thousand times; it was a hole in the wall.

The sign barely hinted that it was a place to find food. Two knives crossed with a rose in between the blades.

Luke stepped back as he opened the door for her, her stomach fluttering as she walked past him and entered a cozy waiting area with a black-and-white checkered floor.

It was an American take on an old, homely Italian restaurant.

Framed art and photos of Frank Sinatra, The Godfather cast, and other cliche Italian characters adorned the walls. The chill of the night evaporated as her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting.

As she took in the romantic atmosphere, candles burning between the few couples occupying the scattering of tables, she wondered if he’d brought other dates here before her.

There was no attendant to show them to their seats, but Luke’s hand slid into hers and he led her to a green upholstered booth in the back corner. A black chalkboard filled with the daily specials took up the wall facing them.

The entrance to the kitchen sat beside it. Sizzling sounds and a chef’s yelled basil request escaped through the cracks. Luke knew his way around.

She liked the way her fingers tingled between his. Instantly missing it when he urged her to sit first, and he dropped her hand to sit across from her.

The merry conversations buzzing around them didn’t bother her as she observed him removing his coat.

Enjoying how the flickering flames painted his face in shadows and orange light.

After she shrugged off her jacket, she picked up one of the black leather-bound menus lying on the table and flicked through it. She didn’t know what was good here.

Everything sounded amazing: eggplant Parmesan, cheese-stuffed gnocchi, and handmade ravioli all had her mouth-watering.

She glanced up as she sensed Luke’s attention on her. Lines of tension framed his bristled mouth, gaze jumping from her to the kitchen’s steel door and back again.

He eyed her nervously, wanting her opinion; she swiftly gave it.

“This is lovely, Luke. How did you know about it? What’s your favorite dish here? I don’t think I can make up my mind.”

Luke relaxed, fingers toying with the edges of his menu as he replied, “I complained to someone at work about the lack of good food in town, and they told me I needed to come here. I took their advice and have been a regular since.”

She grinned, reaching across the table to grab his hand. Their nascent relationship felt delicate, yet stronger by the hour. They had built the foundation while snowed in.

Now they had to construct the solid frame, lay the bricks, and cement them so they’d withstand life’s dramatic changes.

It was both nerve wracking and exhilarating. So much uncertainty, but one thing was for certain for the two of them.

They wanted this.

They wanted each other. Future developments would happen organically; preemptive concern was pointless. Fate and trust would decide. The rest was just noise.

She remembered Luke’s nerves on their first date despite him already knowing she returned his affections and wanted to be with him.

Both their worries about their budding romance failing once they were no longer isolated had disappeared by the time they’d finished their starters. She wanted to tease him as anxiety still limned his harsh edges.

She asked him the question she had mused about when they’d first came inside.

“Have you brought someone here before, or am I your first?”

He chuckled, eyes sparkling as he said, “No, Emilia. You’re the only one. You’re the only person I ever wanted to bring here.”

She knew they were playing, but the ringing sincerity to his words made her heart gallop. A deep, pleased flush snaked up her neck and colored in her cheeks.

His stare roamed over her features, lingering on her mouth before dropping to her bare throat and collarbone, then back to her lips.

Her response was brief, but it seemed to please him.

“Good. I’d like to be the only one.”

Tension wove through the warm air, tickling against her skin as it reached out to wrap around her and Luke. As if a cloak of static electricity fell over them.

They subconsciously leaned closer, and his obsidian eyes smoldered into hers.

Words of affection and slow-burning love grew inside those earthen irises. Reflected in her own gaze, too. A waiter passing broke the moment.

The heavenly aroma of tomatoes, fresh herbs, and fragrant garlic made her stomach grumble as she scanned the restaurant.

She liked to watch people and wonder about their lives in this small snapshot of their day. How many were on their first date?

How many were celebrating decades of love? A sickeningly sweet couple across from them took turns feeding each other and giggled between every bite—she soon looked away.

Feeling as though she were intruding, she returned her focus to her menu.

It was an intimate little eatery. Her chest expanded, her eyes soft with an inner glow, and she closed her them to relish in the warmth in her heart—honored he shared it with her.

It almost felt sacred. A piece of Luke he had shared with no one except her—precious. It was more precious than jewels to her. She was used to flashy, overpriced restaurants.

That meant she drove through a fast-food joint on her way home to supplement her tiny pretentious meal. A bacon cheeseburger and large fry combo with an enormous fountain Coke hit hard after those dinners!

Her firm covered the exorbitant meal costs, yet there was never enough to eat. The paltry portions were more suited to a hamster than human.

She again got distracted by the photos and framed art decorating the walls. All the art was sourced from local artists, all unique in style, and a variety of vivid or muted colors.

Some were flashy depictions of landscapes, animals, or famous Italians. But one caught her eye.

Dark pencil on paper. A magnificently rendered wolf howling in a night dark forest as a sickle moon sliced through the black velvet sky above it.

Exquisitely drawn were the interplay of light and shadow among the trees and the moonlight’s gleam on the wolf’s white fur.

She didn’t have to ask to know it was Luke’s. His face when she turned to him, a pink tinge creeping up his neck and teeth nibbling his bottom lip, told her all.

“That’s yours, isn’t it? How did that happen?”

Luke nodded, shoving down the urge to break eye contact as she waited for his response.

“I was working on it after a shift, and the owner saw it. I told him he could keep it. He gave me free meals for months after to make it up to me, even though I told him I didn’t care.”

Her smile broadened, dimples winking at him as he shrugged and thanked his lucky stars that his friends, Frazer and Linda, were away on their winter vacation and wouldn’t interrupt them.

They were amazing, kindhearted people, but like all good friends, they enjoyed ribbing him and he them. They’d love Emilia. He just didn’t want to share her with them yet.

He didn’t want to share her with anyone at all. Her response made his chest glow, and he sat straighter, fingers squeezing hers atop the white tablecloth.

“I’m glad he paid you in some way. It’s gorgeous.”

A waitress dressed in black slacks, a white shirt, and a red tie ended the conversation as she stopped beside their table. To take their orders. Luke glanced at Emilia.

“Have you decided, or shall I choose for you?” He asked, remembering her earlier comment.

She nodded. “You choose, please! You’ll know better than me.”

Luke inclined his head in acknowledgment as he turned back to the young brunette woman waiting with her pad and pen.

He rattled off his usual order, slowly braised short-rib ragu with pappardelle pasta and a mountain of freshly grated Parmesan on top.

He was going to order something else for Emilia, but he spied her perking up and licking her bottom lip as he spoke. And got her the same.

Gratitude shone like silver-gold in her lapis eyes as the waitress left after promising their drinks would arrive soon. He thought she’d question his choice in food—want to know when he first tried it.

She was more interested in learning more about his drawings.

“What do you like to do most? Landscapes, portraits, or something else that I don’t know the name of?” She laughed.

Hardly anyone bothered to ask that once he confessed to his hobby. His family was supportive, but as he was so private, they never learned more than the tiny parts he risked sharing.

Same with most acquaintances and exes.

His failed loves had gotten bored with it after he stopped creating for their enjoyment.

Meeting others’ constantly changing and ultimately unsatisfiable whims stripped away all the pleasure from it. It was his safe, happy, and quiet space.

He liked to protect it. Emilia appeared solely interested in knowing everything about him, with no motive to judge or exploit the information for her own satisfaction.

It was a dizzying, pulse-racing, and mind-whirling feeling for him.

“I don’t really have a favorite. I just... see something beautiful and want to capture it. Most stay unfinished.”

He recalled all the portraits of her he’d never completed. Never able to fully capture her—he hadn’t tried since they’d gotten together. He thought it might be different now.

“Why don’t you finish them?” She asked, voice lowering as she leaned her elbow on the table. Luke did the same, bringing them closer together.

“Sometimes I can’t get it right, or they aren’t meant to be reduced to a simple sketch,” he murmured, eyes tracing her lively eyebrows, the tea-stain freckles across the bridge of her nose, and the sharp curve of her cupid’s bow—he’d know her blind, he’d memorized her so well.

Her fingers tightened around his, the heat of her hand burning up his arm to kindle in his chest as her magnetic gaze held him captive.

“I think you’re too hard on yourself, but let me know if you get it right one day. I’d like to buy that one,” She said, and reluctantly sat back as their drinks arrived.

He picked up his frosted glass of beer, the white foam fizzing against his upper lip as he took a deep mouthful and swallowed. The cold, sparkling liquid was crisp and refreshing in the heat of the restaurant.

Hints of freshly baked bread and a whisper of citrus effervescent on his tongue as he set it back down. Condensation beaded and rolled down the sides to pool on the mat underneath.

He replied, “I’ll give you it for nothin’. If I ever manage it.”

She shook her head as she sipped her rosé and he wanted to taste it on her so badly. His hand clenched around her fingers as he fought the impulse.

“No, Luke… I’ll pay you in sexual favors if that’s preferable!”

He was glad he wasn’t drinking. The laugh that spilled from him at her brazenness would’ve caused him to choke. Her chuckle was salacious as she winked and tapped his foot with hers under the table.

“You have an answer for everything, don’t you?” He said, wondering how she could talk to people so effortlessly.

He’d seen her with strangers. They acted like they’d known her all their lives. They’d tell her dark secrets like they were comments on the weather.

He took his time warming up to people and still struggled to connect after doing so.

But Emilia searched for a common thread amongst the tangles of uncertainty and pulled on it, tugging and weaving until people felt safe enough to let go around her.

It was a magic he thought she didn’t know she had. Safety and peace—despite her chaotic nature and eclectic mind, she felt safe and peaceful, somehow.

“I just open my mouth and let shit fall out! Sometimes it’ll embarrass me, but I tell myself that if it makes a funny story—it’s worth it. I’ll have plenty to laugh at when I’m old and gray!” She said, but their food arrived and they fell quiet.

The rich scent of the slow-cooked beef and the tangy brightness of the simmered sauce washed over them as the waitress wished them a good meal and left. He salivated.

He had looked forward to this since he boarded his early flight back to America. Parmesan, like snowflakes, melted into the steaming dish as his stomach growled and he reached for his fork.

They still held hands.

Neither let go, making it awkward to eat, but they made it work. They both laughed more than once when the wide pasta ribbons slid off her fork. As they ate, a comfortable silence settled between them.

Only her happy little shoulder dance, and her compliments on his choice, interrupted them. His head, always screaming and talking, had gone utterly quiet and still.

The effect of good, simple food, and brilliant company was profound. Time stood still, solely for them. Draped in candlelight and a tender smile, she was a vision of loveliness his hands were itching to feel and capture.

Later. He promised himself, later he’d try again and show her the results.

Later, he’d show her just how beautiful he found her, make her feel it, and never doubt it.

The need to touch her came over him like a drug as they finished eating. His free hand twitched to stroke down the elegant arch of her neck. Shifting in his seat as his throat thickened and his breathing quickened.

The beer he’d drank intensified it as he paid the bill and refused her attempt to split it.

His pulse thrummed in his throat as they threw on their coats and headed outside, her hand slipping into his like an electric shock to his flaring nerves as he guided her back to the hotel.

He’d committed to drinks at the bar. He wouldn’t deny her that no matter how badly he’d missed her and wanted to kiss her until she clung to him.

Kiss her until she gasped and grabbed and whimpered. Heat dripped down his spine, pooling at the base and wrapping around his abdomen as they walked. Three drinks.

He could last that long.

But as she pressed into his side to avoid being knocked over, he knew he was lying to himself. Two drinks.

Yeah, two would do. Her spicy, musk perfume mixed with her heated skin flooded his nose, and he grasped her hand tight enough he felt her bones bend.

She didn’t complain. Only returned his firm grip and remained glued to his side as though she could read his mind.

She reached his shoulder, yet he could feel her in every part of him.

A fire that bled from her into him and made his mind spin. His lusty thoughts consumed him more and more as they moved.

The sway of her hips was much too distracting. Her scarlet skirt fluttered around her creamy thighs, catching his attention—one drink.

One drink was plenty!