Page 21 of Just for a Taste
N ow that dusk had fallen, it was safe for us to roll the windows down in the car. If Duca de’ Medici could tell how strange the events of today had made me feel, he did not show it. The vampire looked utterly at peace as he watched the trees go by.
“Would you like dinner in the gazebo?” he asked suddenly.
I looked back from the window and raised a brow at him. “Dinner in the what?”
“There’s a gazebo by the graveyard. I enjoy a candlelit dinner there from time to time. I imagine you would too.”
“Sure. That might be an agreeable change of pace.”
It was strange how quickly this unlocked something within me, some calling for something lost. Here I was in a designer dress, designer shoes, and jewelry worth more than I had made in years, but I suddenly craved what I had lost: simple foods, simple activities, simple joys.
“This might sound kind of silly, but could we have a picnic? It’s been such a long time. Peachy and I used to love them.”
He studied me, not showing any immediate sentiment. I no longer found this lack of emotion off-putting; he was waiting for all the information before giving me anything in return.
I gave Duca de’ Medici a coy smile and said, “I can make some mean deviled eggs.”
He chuckled and returned my smile. “I’ll have to take you up on it, then. What shall I bring?”
“Whatever you can make.” Which I imagine isn’t a lot.
“Well, I can make a fiendish PB and J.”
“Perfect! Let’s see . . .” I recited a theoretical packing list to him and wasn’t surprised to find most of my choices for fruit and snacks unavailable at such short notice. The feast we were going to pack would be enough regardless.
The path to the hill was similar but different from my memories. The trees, rocks, and plants were all the same, but fall had transformed them. The oranges and reds were stark against the deep blues of the sky above, and only the tips of the stones were visible from fallen leaves. Instead of the small, wiry stems that had poked from green grounds on the farmlands to our sides only months ago, rippling oceans of wheat surrounded us. Although the seasonal change had altered the appearance of the environment, the autumns and winters here were supposed to be ridiculously mild. In fact, it was unlikely I would see any of this land covered in white.
Setting up the picnic was second nature to me, and all the dishes were quickly visible: trays of deviled eggs, various sandwiches, fruits and vegetables, two pitchers of lemonade and iced hibiscus tea, and shortbread cookies. Duca de’ Medici ate in the strange way he always did, able to peck at an entire meal without spilling a crumb. Meanwhile, I ate my large bites slowly, trying desperately to keep the jacket he had again loaned me clean. A cloud crept along the sky above, with stars peeking through sheets of gray for brief seconds. Those flickers, however ephemeral, were sweet enough that I kept my attention to the sky.
When Duca de’ Medici spoke, low and clear, I found myself caught off guard.
“I have never really cared for others. Perhaps if I could go outside as you can—if I could blend into the crowd—I would. Or perhaps I simply do not have it in me. Either way, the vast majority of people are little more than an annoyance to me. Absurdity plagues the human race, and once you realize that, Signorina Bowling, the game of small talk and smiles gets rather Sisyphean. We often speak of Greek myths, and that one is my favorite for a reason.”
The yolk of the deviled egg I was holding jiggled just like my hand, then plopped into my lap. I returned the white to the tray, got yolk all over my fingers while brushing it off, and attempted to steel myself once it was clear he was going to continue.
“I must sound rather melodramatic to you, and I know that I am. ‘One must imagine Sisyphus happy,’ Basilio often quoted to me when I said as much to him. ‘The pride of attempting to save humanity from death, and the fact we speak his name, must make it all worth it.’ But I cannot imagine the king to have felt anything but remorse as he pushed that boulder up the hill, day after day. Remorse for his hubris, and remorse for how foolish he was to attempt to surmount an unchangeable truth.”
“Why are you telling me this?” I couldn’t hide the offended undertone in my voice. To spring something like that on me without warning was tactless, to say the least.
He met my eyes and spoke evenly. “I saw the look you gave me back at the shop when I spoke to the owner as I did. I felt you were afforded an explanation.”
I tightened my mouth into a line and sat up fully. Why bother pretending with Duca de’ Medici? But agreeing to that much didn’t mean bowing to the rest.
“It wasn’t just the coldness that caught me so off guard. I mean, offering to buy all that for me was a lot. I’m not used to any of that.” I gestured broadly with my arms.
Duca de’ Medici sat up, looked toward the abbey, and pointedly placed his high-end silverware on the fancy china. He then removed his many rings one by one and placed them in his napkin, allowing each gem to shimmer. “All these riches around me, the designer clothes, the fancy sweets—they make me happy for a moment, but they mean nothing. On the other hand, watching you wear them, eat them, enjoy them . . . that’s something.”
I wilted. “The fact that I’m getting paid to be in my paradise, surrounded by books and archives, feels selfish enough.”
“Signorina Bowling.” His voice was unexpectedly stern. “I need you to understand that I could not possibly spend a portion of the money allotted to me within my lifetime, even if it were full.”
The statement alone was shocking, sure, but my mind clung to the end of what he said. Even if it were full?
I forced myself not to look at the vampire and lie back down behind him. Then I said the only thing I was thinking: “Okay.”
We lay there in silence, and the moon peeked through the clouds for the first time. Despite how hazy the rest of the sky was, the full moon was crystal clear. The quiet became layered and complicated, yet neither of us seemed to want to fill it.
Eventually, Duca de’ Medici was the one to break it.
“I’ve never had a picnic,” he admitted, voice muffled, as though this were some massive shocker.
I couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m not exactly surprised. I imagine there’s a lot of things you haven’t done, just like me. I’ve never ridden in a car with a refrigerator before, and I doubt you’ve ever taken public transportation.”
A strange thought came to me then, one that made my stomach twist in a knot: he had probably never been pushed on a swing, or had a nickname. I imagined him being called by his full name by a butler, even while taking his first steps.
“I’d like to do this again,” Duca de’ Medici said, so sincerely that my former trepidation melted. “We don’t have to, of course, but it was nice. For however long you plan to be here, that is.”
I finally looked at him for the first time in a while with a smile. “We can have plenty of picnics, and movie nights, and even bake cookies together, if you’ll have me.”
Duca de’ Medici averted his gaze to a rabbit in the distance and clenched his jaw.
“Can I?” he asked, voice scarcely above a whisper.
I blinked and peered my head around to catch his eye. “Can you what?”
He continued to watch the rabbit, which was grazing serenely on fallen fruit from a wild strawberry tree, and didn’t reply. Despite the silence, I realized what he meant: Can I have you?
I bit my lip, burrowed into Duca de’ Medici’s coat, and slowly nodded my head. “Yes. For now.”
He lay down again, face turned away from me. “That’s enough.”