RILEY
After buying the bed and arranging for delivery, we go to another luxury home store to purchase sheets and pillows. It's a longer process than I anticipated, mostly because the sales lady seems to know that Gabriel has money and is insistent on showing us every single item in the store.
Since Gabriel is far more picky about his pillow than I am, we decided he'd keep the old ones for him, and I selected two new ones for me.
Without batting an eye, he ordered five sheet sets. I had to check the price tag twice to make sure I wasn't confusing the thread count with the price. Both were higher than anything I'd ever come across.
Since we'd gotten a late start, it was already the end of the day. Gabriel and I walked out of the linen store emptyhanded — they'd agreed to deliver everything next week, closer to when the bed was scheduled to arrive.
Once we were in the car, I turned to him. "What now? I'm getting a little hungry."
He started the car. "I have an idea."
We go down the road a few miles and he pulls into a sandwich shop. It's so different than where Gabriel usually eats —places that have multiple course menus and wines that cost more than my weekly salary at the paper — that I turn to gape at him.
"Sandwiches? That's okay with me, but are you going to like this?"
He plants a kiss on my mouth. "They have the best Italian Sub here in Florida."
"Okay, sounds perfect to me." I shrug and start to get out of the car.
"No, stay here. I'll get what we need."
"Wha..." The word fades as he leaves the car, wearing only a cryptic smile.
He's planning something. But what?
I wait in the car, wondering what Gabriel is up to. He returns shortly with a bag of food and a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I got all the fixings for an Italian feast," he says, pulling containers out of the bag. Marinated artichokes, roasted peppers, fresh mozzarella, and more. My mouth waters.
"Where are we going to eat all this?" I ask.
"You'll see," he replies with a wink.
We drive for a while. A half hour, at least. We're south of the city, possibly in another county. The bodyguard SUV follows us as we speed down a lonely road.
Eventually, we reach a clearing — and a secluded beach.
As Gabriel leads me onto the pristine white sand, I stop and gasp in awe.
Having grown up near chilly Boston-area beaches strewn with rocks and seaweed, I'm always stunned by the dazzling shores of the Florida Gulf coast.
This beach is postcard perfect: finely milled sugar-white sand that almost glitters like diamonds in the fading sunlight.
Gentle electric blue waves crest and fall. Palm trees sway nearby, leaves rustling in the balmy breeze. The tangy scent of saltwater mingles with hints of coconut and sea oats.
I slip off my sandals, wiggling my toes in the warm sand. The water looks irresistible and crystal clear. Gabriel grins knowingly at my reaction. No matter how often I come to the Gulf, the beaches never fail to take my breath away. This secluded stretch of paradise is pure magic.
"You know, I don't think we've ever eaten dinner alone on a beach before," I say to Gabriel, who's toting the food and a blanket. I offer to carry something and he declines.
He leads me down the sand to a private cove. As the sun begins to set, he spreads out the feast and pops open a bottle of wine. He pours the liquid into two plastic cups.
I settle against him, sipping chianti.
"This is perfect," I sigh contentedly.
Gabriel feeds me an artichoke heart. "I knew you'd like this."
"How did you find it?"
"My nonna used to bring me here. My family owns this land. My dad was going to build a beach house at one point." He stares at the water, as if he's considering saying more.
I don't say anything, hoping he'll continue. When he doesn't, I ask, "Why didn't he?"
Gabriel inhales and looks at me. "He went to prison."
"Oh. I see." The mafia is never far from Gabriel. As evidenced by the two men and the black SUV that I can see in my peripheral vision. "When am I going to meet him?"
"Soon." Gabriel takes a long sip. "He's going to be difficult, so we'll have to deal with that."
"Can't be any more difficult than my father," I mutter. "I definitely want you to meet my mom, but my dad? I wish we could skip that."
Gabriel's expression is thoughtful. "Meeting our fathers is unavoidable. But it's something we can handle, together."
I nod. What I don't tell him is that my father has a lifelong hatred of Italians, born of being on the fringes of the Irish mafia. He's liable to do anything when I bring Gabriel home to Boston.
"I think we should probably arrange for a hotel when we go up there," I say.
"We can do that. We can do whatever you want. Whatever makes you comfortable."
"Thanks. And same to you, for your father." We squeeze hands.
"My father will probably be a little more simple, at first. We'll have cocktails at the house. He'll be polite at first." He lets out a sigh. "I'm more worried he's going to try to bring his new stripper girlfriend."
"Yikes," I whisper.
"But enough about him. Let's dig into the food. I'm famished."
Eager to put this conversation aside, I unwrap my Italian sub, the crusty bread giving way to layers of salty prosciutto, sweet sopressata, and smoky provolone. My stomach rumbles loudly and Gabriel chuckles as he watches me take that first blissful bite. The meats and cheese blend together perfectly with the olive oil and vinegar that soaks into the bread.
"Oh my god, this is incredible," I mumble through a mouthful. Gabriel smiles and bites into his own sandwich. We eat in contended silence for several minutes, the waves providing a soothing backdrop.
All I can do is make soft moans of pleasure as I eat. The antipasti is also delicious.
"I thought you didn't like the spicy peppers," he says, feeding me one.
"Changed my mind. They kind of grew on me. Like you."
He chuckles and pops an olive in his mouth. "I'm glad to hear that."
"I know most women probably love you the instant they meet you," I tease.
"You had the opposite opinion."
I think back to that day when I was thrown into the back of his car. "Well... yeah." I pause to laugh.
"I'm still sorry about that. Or well, maybe not. Had I not taken such an extreme measure, we'd have never gotten together."
"I don't usually condone kidnapping," I say with a grin.
He sighs and I grab a napkin. "Hang on, you have a little mustard..."
I gingerly dab at the corner of his mouth. "There. All gone."
"I like how you care for me, babe."
As I polish off the last bite, I lean back on my elbows with a satisfied hum. The sun hovers just above the horizon, bathing our private stretch of beach in a warm tangerine glow.
"What a gorgeous sunset," I breathe, the dying light turning the sea to molten gold.
"Not as beautiful as you," Gabriel says, nose nuzzling my neck.
I turn my head and he captures my lips in a lingering kiss that tastes of sandwiches and lust. My pulse quickens as his tongue dances with mine.
"Onions," he whispers, and we both crack up.
Gabriel wears a roguish grin as he refills our plastic cups with more wine. I take a hearty gulp, the chianti fruity and full-bodied.
"Ready for the next course, amore?" Gabriel asks. He pulls out a few small containers: the artichokes, creamy burrata, and marcona almonds. He stabs an artichoke heart with a plastic fork and feeds it to me. The tangy olive oil and thyme dressing explode on my tongue.
"Yum!" I exclaim. We nibble our way through the antipasti as the sky deepens to a bruised purple. Gabriel points out the first winking star.
"Make a wish, amore mio," he urges softly.
"I love when you talk to me in Italian."
I close my eyes, clasping his hand. I wish for a lifetime of moments like this with Gabriel, simple but profound joy against an exquisite backdrop. I have everything I need right here on this beach: scrumptious food, excellent wine, and the man I love more than anything.
Every other concern — his father, his business, meeting my parents — is banished.
We continue our feast, polishing off the antipasti.
As the last sliver of sun disappears below the horizon, Gabriel folds me in his strong arms. His breath stirs the hair by my ear as he begins to sing a haunting Italian love song. I snuggle closer as his velvety voice washes over me. The depth of emotion in the lyrical phrases moves me profoundly even though I don't grasp the literal meaning.
When the song ends, Gabriel kisses the top of my head. "You make me so happy, Riley. These months with you have been the best of my life."
"It's only the beginning," I whisper.