“Kiss me,” I told him, never breaking eye contact.
“No,” he said, his own warm, sweet breath wafting over my cheeks. His right hand moved achingly slowly from the small of my back and wrapped gingerly around my neck, resting his thumb at my rapidly beating pulse.
“Why?” I begged.
“Say it,” he ordered, his eyes roaming mine.
I blinked long and slow, swallowing my fear. He knew. “You say it.”
“Okay,” he breathed but he was silent for what seemed like minutes.
“Please, I’m in misery, Tom.”
“I’m trying.”
“It’s not hard.”
He swallowed and the movement sent my eyes lazily down his neck and back up. “You’ll reject me,” he said when my eyes met his again.
“And so what if I do? Should it matter?”
He sank a little into himself then but I pulled him back against me.
“It shouldn’t matter but it does,” he told me.
“Don’t.”
“I can’t-I can’t be hurt again, January,” he rushed out quietly in one breath. “There’d be no recovering, I told you that.”
My heart pounded in my chest at the intended proclamation. “Say it,” I ordered.
“I’m in love with you.”
He said it simply, no hesitation between my last asking him and that moment. Just five words between the old us and the new us.
He didn’t wait for me to say it back. He rushed and kissed me so hard and yet not hard enough so I met him with equal fierceness. It was double the impact and exponentially delirious. So many wondrous sensations were assaulting me. His tongue sent tingles down my chin as it slid into mine. His goatee scratched softly against my cheeks, his hands held my jaw and threaded through my hair. I couldn’t get close enough. I wanted so badly to climb into his lap. The very vague awareness I was in public held me back but barely. He pressed into me and we smashed against the window on our row. He was so warm and perfect, my hands went to his exposed t-shirt and my fingers laced within the fabric. I wanted to drag him over me but the tiny, almost infinitesimal rational side of my brain reminded me where I was.
A little kid giggling at us broke the spell. Tom’s lips stilled on mine but their quivering told me they’d rather do anything but. My hands went softly to his face before fastening in his hair, running the length through my fingers until they met his neck.
I kissed him softly on the mouth and breathed my own revelation. “I’m in love with you, Tom.”
He closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath before they shot open and held me in my place. “Rome.”
“What about Rome?”
“Just, promise me that while in Rome, you’ll still feel the same way.”
I sat up and rested my hand over his heart. “I promise.” You don’t get over the love of your life, Tom. You said it yourself.
He smiled the most heart-shattering smile.
He kissed my neck and I could feel him smile against my skin. “January MacLochlainn, how in the world did I get so lucky?”
I hugged him tightly. “Funny, I was just thinking the same thing about finding you.”
I’ve never seen a more beautiful city than Rome, Italy. It was definitely a city of God. The architecture, the sheer number of churches, a city of art. That’s what it was, a city full of art. Not one inch within its walls was untouched by a magnificent artist it seemed.
“It’s incredible,” Tom said, grabbing my hand after we completed a traditional coin toss into the Trevi Fountain, superstitiously ensuring a return trip to Rome. We saved the fountain for last since our hotel was right down the street.
We’d already visited Vatican City, numerous churches and many monuments. We weren’t set to see The Great Remember until the following night. We thought about partying it up a little but, to be honest, we were worn out from the traveling and always being "on." We agreed to sleep in a little the next day as we rarely got to but not too late as we wanted to sightsee a little more.
“I want to take you on a proper date.”
“Really?”
“Yes. American style. Dinner. Movie. Make out session.”
“I’m down, Bobby Brown. What shall we eat?”
“Italian?”
“Very funny. And the film?”
“See, this is good. I think it’s against an in-love law or something that we don't know what movies each other digs.”
“All right, hold on?”
He nodded.
I found a man walking by and approached him. “Mi scusi, dove trovo un cinema?”
“A due isolati sulla destra”
“Grazie,” I told the man.
He nodded and walked away with a polite, “Prego.”
An inadvertent yelp came from me as I was swept off my feet and spun around. “You make me hot when you do that,” Tom spoke into my ear.
I kissed him softly as he set me on my feet again. “Sei il grande amore della mia vita,” I whispered into his lips.
He kissed me deeper. “And what does that mean?”
“Nothing. Come on, it’s two blocks down.”
As we walked to the theater, I started singing a Georgia Asher song we heard days before but stuck with us and to my utter surprise, Tom joined in harmony and we sounded unbelievably good together. His voice was rich and deep and perfect for harmony, which made sense to me knowing he played bass for The Ivories. When we were done, I looked over at him in awe.
“God you’re talented, Tom.”
“I am not.”
“Yes, you really are.”
“Yeah, yeah.”