The Education of Sebastian & the Education of Caroline (59 page)

At the fifth pensione, we struck gold. Sort of.

“I’m sorry, signora,” said the owner, a stout lady of about sixty. “I have one room with two single beds, but that’s all. It’s the Festival, you see,” she said, gesturing helplessly. “You’re lucky—I had a cancellation.”

I could see out of the corner of my eye that Sebastian was willing me to take it. I turned to look at him.

“Pajama party,” he mouthed.

I couldn’t help smiling. “Si, we’ll take the room. Grazie.”

The pensione was narrow and old-fashioned, but clean and welcoming, too. Our hostess went by the name of Signora Battelli, and when Sebastian informed her that my surname was ‘Venzi’, she went off into paroxysms of joy that ‘Mr. and Mrs. Venzi have come home’, meaning we’d returned from America to the mother country. She had delightfully misunderstood him.

Our room looked like it was last refurbished in the 1970s, decorated with an astonishing clash of vivid patterns, and garish pictures of saints. But I was so tired I didn’t care. There was a small sink in the room, and the shower was down the hall, shared, she assured us, by just one other couple.

She bustled off, calling over her shoulder that breakfast was at 8
am
.

Sebastian threw himself down on the bed and it groaned slightly.

“Not as noisy as last night,” he said, smiling up at me.

“I don’t think that’s even possible,” I agreed.

He unpacked our overnight bag and tossed my toiletry bag onto the second, narrow bed.

“Thanks for packing up my stuff,” he said, looking over at me. “I thought I’d probably seen the last of these shirts.”

“What a tragedy,” I said, cattily. “You might have had to do something shocking, like buy t-shirts in different colors.”

He smirked at me, but didn’t reply.

The bedroom window had old-fashioned slatted shutters instead of curtains. Sebastian leaned over to open the window, and the sounds of revelry drifted up on the night air.

“Listen to that,” he said, dreamily. “Sounds like being in Italy.”

I stood and listened for a moment, a smile on my face. “Yes, it sounds, I don’t know … happy.”

He turned and looked at me. “Are you happy, Caro?”

I nodded slowly. “Getting there.”

“Good,” he said, quietly.

I collected my toiletry bag and headed for the shower. As I glanced over my shoulder, he was still staring out of the window.

When I returned, he was leaning out as far as he could, soaking up the mild, night air. He looked relaxed and had a serene expression on his face. I didn’t often see him like that: it reminded me of how he’d been when I’d known him in San Diego.

“Back in a minute, baby,” he said, smiling at me.

While he was gone, I pulled on a baggy t-shirt that I used for sleeping in, and pulled out my laptop to catch up with emails.

My editor was fuming, still unable to expedite my travel documents. With a frisson of guilt, I realized that I hadn’t even told him I was on the move. I tapped out a hasty email of explanation, and offered him a light travel article as a bonus.

Jenna and Alice had sent long and chatty emails about a new gallery they’d been to see in Manhattan, with a particular mention of how the cheap wine had been undrinkable. I wrote to tell them I was traveling through Italy with an old friend, and that I’d finally seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa for myself. It made me feel comfortable to be connected and to have news from home.

True to his word, Sebastian returned quickly from the shower. He seemed relieved when he walked back through the door. Perhaps he thought I’d run away while he was gone.

“You doing your writing?” he said, nodding at the laptop.

“No, just catching up with my girlfriends.”

“Did you tell them about me?”

“I told them I was traveling through Italy with an old friend.”

He looked disappointed, but didn’t question me further.

“So, what do you want to do tomorrow?” he said. “Look at more old buildings?”

I was amused by his tone: obviously he was trying to please me, but the look on his face screamed
no more old buildings or I’ll want to stab my eyeballs with a fork!

“Whatever. This is all a bonus anyway. Where would you like to go?”

“There’re a couple of surf spots I’d like to check out, if you don’t mind,” he said, looking hopeful.

“I don’t mind, Sebastian. I could use some beach time—sleeping in the sun sounds perfect about now.”

“Okay, cool!” he said, clearly relieved. “The surf isn’t great in the Med, but there are a few breaks that look like they might be rideable.”

He peeled off his t-shirt while he was talking, and I couldn’t help my eyes drifting over his chest.
Damn, he was in good shape.

I dropped my eyes back to my laptop before he caught me staring.

I heard, rather than saw, the rustle of fabric as he tugged off his jeans. I couldn’t help glancing up, and noticed that he’d kept his briefs on. That was thoughtful. I knew I wanted him in my bed again, but not yet. This time last night, he’d been yelling at me, calling me an untrustworthy liar. Memories like that took some swallowing.

He jumped into his bed and lay back with his arms behind his head, smiling across at me.

“Are you going to tuck me in?”

I laughed. “I think you’re old enough and ugly enough to do that yourself.”

“Ugly?”

“Hideous. I can hardly bear to look at you.”

“You could close your eyes.”

“I could, Sebastian, but I might get the urge to peek.

He thought about it for a moment. “Well, can I get a goodnight kiss?”

“Sure. I’ll ask Signora Battelli if she’s available.”

He pulled a face. “I’ve never kissed a woman with a mustache.”

“First time for everything, Sebastian.”

“Please, Caro,” he said, pouting cutely at me. “I’ll be good. Promise.”

“Hmm, I’ve heard your promises before.”

He looked so sad and sort of lost, I couldn’t resist him anymore.

“Okay, one kiss. But that’s all!”

He grinned at me, delighted he’d got his own way.

I stowed my laptop back in its case, and sat on his bed. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me down gently.

I snuggled next to him and lay my head on his chest while he stroked my back.

“We’re okay, aren’t we, Caro?”

I could hear the anxiety in his voice.

“Getting there.”

I wriggled free of his arms and planted a quick kiss on his lips. He held me briefly, then let me go, an expression of regret on his face.

“Night, Chief.”

I turned off my bedside light and heard him murmur.

“Night, boss.”

The helicopter was so loud I had to hold my hands over my ears. The whirling blades kicked up plumes of yellow dust that coated my nose and throat so I could taste it. A man in desert fatigues was yelling at me, but I couldn’t hear the words. And then his face disappeared in a bloody mist.

“Caro, wake up!”

Sebastian was shaking me hard. I sat up, wide-eyed and trembling.

“Fuck, Caro,” he said, more quietly. “Another nightmare?”

I nodded silently.

“Come here, baby.”

He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me tightly into his chest.

I gulped in air; my lungs burned as if I’d been underwater for a long time, and I could almost taste the acrid dust in my mouth.

Damn, that had been a bad one.

“What was it about, baby?”

I shook my head. “Just a nightmare.”

“You can tell me anything, Caro,” he said, rocking me slowly.

No. Not anything. Not that.

But he didn’t press me, and I was happy just to have him hold me.

After a few minutes, my heart rate had returned to normal.

“Scoot over,” he whispered. “I’ll just stay till you go back to sleep.”

“Thank you.”

He slid down next to me and I felt his warm body press into mine. There was no anger, no ugly accusations, no tension: just his gentle hands around me.

Finally, the nightmare drifted away, and I slept.

When I woke up the next morning feeling happier and refreshed, bright sunshine was filtering through the shutters, and Sebastian’s body was still twined around me in the narrow bed. His breath was hot on the back of my neck and his heavy arm pinned me down.

I tried to wriggle out from underneath him, but he mumbled something unintelligible and pulled me in more tightly.

It felt good waking up in his arms. Hell, it felt better than good, it felt right. We still had some issues to resolve—pretty important ones—but I began to feel hopeful that we were getting there. Like I’d said.

I stroked his long fingers that were resting across my stomach, and I felt him move, stretching
out in the bed like a big, old sleepy cat.

I shifted around so I could look at him.

A slow, sexy smile appeared on his face as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

“Wow, I’ve got this beautiful woman in my bed. I really like this dream.”

“Actually, Sebastian, you’re in
my
bed.”

“Oh, yeah. You must be one of those fast women I heard about at boot camp.”

“Hmm, well, I think that lecture was supposed to warn you off them.”

“Oh, I guess I didn’t hear it right. I suppose that explains why I didn’t get into Officer Candidate School.”

“Did you try?”

He shook his head slowly. “Nah, not really. Not my thing. I took some college classes for a while, but then … I was already fucking around. Guess I pissed off the wrong people.”

“You’d make a good officer, Sebastian. Maybe you should think about it.”

He shrugged. “I’m a Warrant Officer: that’s what the title ‘Chief’ is—highest ranking for noncoms.” He correctly interpreted my expression. “Yeah, you know that stuff. Sorry. I did get asked to join the Navy SEALs, though.”

“Really? That’s great! I mean, that’s a real honor, isn’t it? You’d like that—all that super-macho stuff.”

He smiled, and ran a finger down my arm. “I turned them down.”

I gaped at him.
Nobody
turned down the chance to join the Navy’s elite team. “Why?”

He looked at me as if the answer was obvious.

“Caro, there’s no way I’d join the same service that my father is in. Fuck that! Can you imagine if we ended up at the same Base? I’d end up killing the bastard.”

“Shh,” I said, resting my finger on his lips, as his voice started to get louder. “We’re in Italy; it’s a beautiful day, and we’re going to go and find some waves for you to surf.”

He took a deep breath and smiled. “Okay,” he said, happily.

Then his hand drifted down to my thigh and he circled, slowly, his fingers tugging at the material of my panties.

“You know what would make this day even better?” he said, suggestively.

“Oh no, Sebastian. I’m not falling for that. I’m going to take a shower, and you’d better have some damn clothes on by the time I get back.”

I rolled out of bed before he could stop me, and stomped around the room picking out clean clothes to wear.

“Are you sure?” he said, smiling lasciviously, as his hand disappeared under the sheets. I could tell he was stroking himself, and the thought of what I could do with the result was very arousing.

I shook myself out of my reverie. No, I’d promised myself that we had to get through at least another 24 hours without having another major meltdown before I’d give in. It was just being smart. If I let him in any further without some sort of proof that I could trust him with my heart, I was a damn fool, and deserved everything that happened to me.

I headed for the shower, cursing myself for not having taken a photograph of him lying there in my bed, all hot and wicked. I’d need something to entertain myself with during the dark, lonely nights when I was an old woman, and boring anyone who’d listen about that summer vacation where I’d had more sex than Madonna. Well, maybe—I was still thinking about it.

The shower was cool enough to put out the flames of passion that Sebastian had been stoking in me.

Twenty-four hours
I chanted to myself.

When I got back to our room, he’d gotten as far as pulling on a pair of jeans, but that was all.

“You shouldn’t wander around like that,” I admonished. “You’ll give Signora Battelli a coronary.”

He winked at me but took no notice whatsoever, as he sauntered out of the room.

While he was gone, I searched through his jacket pockets until I found his map. I scoped out the beaches that might have enough swell for surf, then Googled them on my laptop. There were two possibilities within an hour’s drive. We’d already gone past one of the best surf spots at Levanto. The next best spot was outside Rome, but that was a five hour drive. I decided we could save that for another day.