Page 91 of Rivals

“This looks oddly familiar,” I quip, peaking at Lachlan. He chuckles. “Just older, I guess.”

“Well, we are in Rome.” He says, and wheels our bags to the small dresser. “It’s probably a good thing neither of us has many clothes.”

He’s right. I brought all my clothes and three of my four pairs of shoes. I only got the heels because I saw them at the thrift store, and they happened to fit. I wore them the first time when I went on a date with Ryan. Wow, that feels like it was a lifetime ago.

“Alright, do you want to get unpacked, and then we can find a grocery store around here?”

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

Ten minutes later, we unpacked and put our suitcases in a corner of the room. Lachlan grabs our keys, and I follow him out the door.

We step out onto the sidewalk, and I’m surprised it smells just like New York, which is somewhat comical. Though, there are wafts of a bakery, coffee, and something else. I don’t know what I expected, but it definitely wasn’t this. Lachlan leads the way, glancing at his phone and checking the street signs. The woman who met us here said there was a grocery a few blocks from us, but she wasn’t that specific. A map would have been nice.

I trust Lachlan to be the GPS while I take in the city. We were also given our itinerary for the next four days, and I can hardly contain my excitement. We are going to see all of the places and artwork I’ve only ever seen on a computer screen, in a picture, or read about in a book. This place was the center of the High Renaissance. Some consider it to be the singular event that changed art as we know it today. Without it, who knows what art would be like? It’s an honor to be inspired by the greats.

“Found it,” Lachlan grumbles, and I almost run into him. I follow him inside, and we both go straight for the ramen, but it all just looks like noodles in a lot of different forms.

An older woman coughs, and we look at her. “Are you looking for something?” she says in a heavy accent.

“Yes, ma’am. We’re looking for ramen noodles,” Lachlan says. The woman scowls and huffs before she stomps away. I look at him and the empty space the woman left.

“Ma’am?” I say to Lachlan.

“I may not be well-behaved now, but I was raised with manners,” Lachlan says.

“That’s news to me,” I grin and follow the woman in the direction she went.

She’s standing by cheese, meat, and fruit in an open cold case. “You don’t need ramen,” she says the word like it has a bitter taste. “Tell me what you would like, and I will package it for you. Cheese, meat, bread, crackers.” She points to the packages of what I think are crackers, but I don’t read Italian. I look at her one more time and shrug. She would know better than me.

“You tell me, I like all of it. Package whatever you think is good.” That seems to appease her and she nods. I grab a bag of grapes and some apples. Lachlan finds me with cookies in his hands and a paper bag.

“What’s in the paper bag?” I ask him. He shrugs and watches the woman cut what I think is salami. I’ve never been a picky eater. Growing up, if you didn’t eat what was in front of you, someone would either steal it, or you would go hungry. So, whatever it was, I ate it.

The woman hands me two packages of wrapped meat and cheese and then points to the crackers. One box is little rings, which seems odd for cheese and crackers, but what do I know? I look at them, unsure what I should pick, so I just grab a package that looks good and take it to the register at the front of the store.

Lachlan puts his stuff next to mine, and she frowns and glances at me. “Your woman deserves wine. A good man gets his woman wine, yes?” Lachlan grins at me.

The woman grabs a bottle and points at it. “Made in Tuscany, not far from here.”

“Thank you so much,” I say to her.

“Grazie,” she says, accenting the vowel. I repeat the word, and she nods, satisfied.

Lachlan says it, and she frowns, shaking her head. I try to smother my giggle, and he knocks me with his elbow. The woman tells us the total and patiently waits while I count the euros and coins.

Once she counts it again, she nods and slides it into her register. “Buona notte,” she calls. I wave back.

“Well, it looks like you’ve already made a friend here,” Lachlan says. His eyes are bright, and excitement is all over his face as he carries the paper bag.

When we get back to the apartment, we put the food away and realize there’s nothing to do. We don’t have to go to work. Our only goal right now is art and inspiration.

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” Lachlan asks. I shoot him a look, and he grins, leaning back on the sofa. “Our only job here is the art.”

I rub my chest while my heart thunders. It still unnerves me how he just knows what I’m thinking. We’ve been on the same wavelength well before I noticed.

“So, what should we do?” I ask him.

He leans forward with his forearms resting on his thighs as he rubs his chin. He hasn’t trimmed his beard for a few days, and it’s gotten thicker, but I like it. It makes him look more rugged.