La Rosa Gialla

Chapter 9

January 2024

I woke up to pitch-black darkness. I was only vaguely aware that I had fallen asleep on the couch in the living room and that something was terribly warm next to me. I reached for my phone on the table and turned on the display to see what time it was. 2:25 am. I pointed the light from my phone on the heat source next to me.

Charles slept like a baby. He was breathing softly and his eyes slightly moved under the lids. His hair fell over his forehead and curled in soft waves. I focused on his long, thick eyelashes and on his cheeks, where his dimples were still noticeable, even when he wasn't smiling. I had to stop myself from stroking his face or his fluffy hair. I put the phone back on the table and pulled the blanket over us from the armrest. "I've already spent half the night next to him anyway, another few hours won't change anything," I thought to myself before closing my eyes again.

I was awakened a second time by Charles squirming. He whimpered like a small child and began to stretch dramatically. "What time is it?" I asked sleepily and straightened up a bit. "It's almost seven," he informed me, rubbing his eyes. "I'm going to take a shower at my place and change and then I'll be back," he said.

"Don't you want breakfast first?"

"No, thanks. It won't take long," he smiled, placing a kiss on my cheek, jumping off the couch, and heading outside to his car. I remained sitting frozen in my spot and with my fingers resting on the place where his lips touched a moment ago, I stared for a long time in the direction where he disappeared.

Still a little dazed from the sudden intimate contact, I pushed myself off the couch and headed to the bathroom. Sure, he's French (basically), I'm Italian, and one little kiss on the cheek shouldn't throw me off. I'm not 10 anymore. But this was no ordinary kiss on the cheek. This was a kiss on the cheek from a man I'd loved for years, then hated for years, and now... I don't know how I feel now. At that moment, I couldn't even formulate my thoughts, let alone my feelings.

I took a deep breath and undressed to take a long relaxing shower. Then I blow-dried my neglected dark brown hair and applied light makeup. For now, I just threw on my house clothes and went back downstairs to make breakfast for myself, Charles, and everyone else. By the time Dad, Luca, and Alessandra with Elio appeared in the kitchen, the whole house was already smelling of coffee.

During the morning we fine-tuned the last details. We placed flowers, dishes, and cutlery. Charles joined everything with full vigor and never left me a moment to talk to him alone. On one hand, I wanted to ask him what was happening with us now, but on the other, I had an inkling that nothing was actually happening at all. We just fell into a rut. After all, you can't just forget 13 years. But I can't be in love with him again, can I? He broke my heart. I can't act like a teenager just because he popped back into my life out of the blue and my hormones started to freak out.

Before lunch, the restaurant was full of aunts and uncles, all members of the extended family, and family acquaintances. A ruckus echoed through the room, as only 50 Italians (and one Monegasque) can do. When everyone was finally seated at the tables, Dad greeted them with a short thank-you speech, and then everyone began to eat. Charles proudly scooped the tagliatelle, which he had made himself, and kept an eye on the other people to see if they were satisfied with the food. To his disappointment, no one showed significant enthusiasm, but on the other hand, neither did they show significant dissatisfaction, which I personally took as a win.

The conversation flowed spontaneously even when coffee and dessert were served, and I pretended to be interested in Aunt Francesca's story. For about half an hour she was trying to get me together with her friend's son. "Giuseppe is a fantastic, genuine man. Adriana, look," she pointed her cell phone at me and clumsily showed me a photo of a 40-year-old man with a bald head, chubby red cheeks and a belly the size of the moon. I desperately turned to Charles, who glanced at the photo, breathed in the water that was in his mouth and coughed like his dear life depended on it. I took advantage of the situation, grabbed him by the forearm and dragged him into the living room, which fortunately was safely separated from the restaurant. There I smacked him between the shoulder blades so he could breathe normally again.

"Ow! Are you crazy?" he yelled as he calmed down a bit and his face returned to its normal color.

"I just saved your life," I remarked, sitting down on the couch exhausted.

"I think I saved yours actually. Although I have to say that Giuseppe looks like a great guy."

I moaned and buried my face in my hands. Charles laughed and then sat down next to me. "Adri, I know there's still a lot of unfinished business between us, but you should know that..." "What are you two doing here?" Luca burst into the room and began to gesticulate aggressively. "I quite badly need your help next door, if you don't mind. You can continue your loving moment after everyone leaves." Suddenly it was my turn to turn red as a tomato.