Forever with Me (With Me in Seattle 8)

“I want to meet both,” I reply, and then throw my arms around him. “We’re going to Italy!”

“We are.”

“When?”

“Whenever you like. The tickets are open-ended, so we can go whenever it’s convenient for you to get away.”

“You might be the best Italian boyfriend ever.”

He laughs, lays me back in the grass, and kisses me silly, sending tingles all through me.

Charming Italian.

“You have to get out of bed,” Dominic calls from the bathroom.

“I will,” I reply. “This picture is cheesy.”

He sticks his head out of the doorway and scowls at me. “I love that picture. You’re beautiful in it.”

Then he’s gone again, bustling around in the bathroom. The water is running. I hear him snatch his toothbrush out of its holder.

Honestly, I love that damn picture, it’s just fun to tease him about it. That was my favorite day in Italy.

“I get to crush the grapes with my feet?” I ask excitedly. “Like in ‘I Love Lucy’?”

“Something like that,” Dom replies and leads me into a barn with a big tub that looks like a water trough. A man dumps a bucket of grapes in it and grins at Dom.

“Tutti pronti,” the man says and walks away.

“What did he say?” I ask.

“All ready,” Dom replies. “Are you ready?”

“I’m going to stomp around in the grapes?”

“Yes.” His eyes are full of mischief as he leads me to a bucket of warm water, and helps me rinse off my feet, then holds my hand as I climb in the large tub and step into the grapes.

“This feels…weird.” I stand still, facing the open doors of the barn, where I can see the rolling hills of Tuscany and lines and lines of vines. It’s the most beautiful view I’ve ever seen.

Aside from the one in Washington, at Dominic’s vineyard.

“You have to stomp on them, tesoro,” he says.

“Why aren’t you doing this with me?” I ask suspiciously as he aims his phone at me and snaps a picture.

“It’s more fun this way.”

“Uh huh.” I begin to walk, scrunching up my nose at the way the grapes squish between my toes. It smells earthy and good, but feels so weird. “This is kind of gross.”

“You’re so funny,” he says with a smile.

“I can’t believe you do it this way for all of your wine,” I say, as I trudge through the grapes.

“We don’t,” Gianna says from the doorway. “I can’t believe you’re making her do that.”

“I knew it!”

Dominic is doubled over, laughing.

“You’re such a shit,” I say with a laugh. “My feet are going to be purple forever.”

“Just for a few days,” he says, and wipes his eyes. “You look like you’re having fun.”

“Please get me out of here.”

He lifts me out of the tub, sets me on my feet, and holds his phone up, getting a selfie of us with Tuscany in the background, laughing, delighted with each other.

“You know,” Gianna comments as she watches us. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this happy, Dominic.”

“I haven’t been,” he replies, and rests his forehead on mine. “Until I found her.”

“Get your ass out of bed!” Dom calls from the bathroom.

“You’re bossy,” I grumble, as I roll out of bed and tug on panties and a bra, then decide, screw it, and throw his white shirt on from yesterday and join him in the bathroom. He’s standing in front of the mirror, shirtless, and leans his hands on the vanity as he watches me.

“You’re going to wear my dirty shirt to meet your parents?” he asks with a grin as I hop up onto the vanity next to him and swing my feet back and forth.

“You know, you don’t have to go,” I reply reasonably. “They’re nice enough, but you shouldn’t have to endure it. I can go alone.”

“No,” he replies simply, and combs his hair.

“I still can’t believe they called,” I say with a frown, watching Dom. “I mean, I told them to, if they ever wanted to have a relationship with me, but I didn’t expect them to actually do it.”

Big, gigantic butterflies take flight in my belly as I think about meeting up with my parents for lunch. They flew up here just to see me.

“I can’t believe they even knew what airport to fly into.” Dom snickers and pulls his shaving stuff out of a drawer. “I mean, this is kind of ridiculous.”

“Alecia.”

“Yeah?”

He slides me over in front of him and pins me here, his hands on the granite at my hips, and kisses my nose lightly. “Stop worrying.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.” He kisses my forehead, then hands me his shaving cream. “Lather me up.”

“This could be fun.” I grin and shoot the white foam into my hands, then rub them together and begin rubbing it on his handsome face. I’m all smiles, delighted with him, as he clenches his lips closed so I can get the area between his nose and lips, then laugh when I get it up his nose. “Sorry. I don’t put shaving cream on a face often.”

He laughs with me as I concentrate on my task, making a complete mess of him.

“Spread it down on my neck.”

I follow his directions, then lean back and take in my handiwork.

“I suck at this.”

“It’ll get the job done,” he replies, and hands me his razor.

“I get to put a sharp instrument against your neck?” I ask incredulously.

“Don’t make me regret this.”

Before I can begin, he leans in and plants a kiss right on my cheek, leaving a dollop of cream on my skin, making me giggle. “You’re making a mess!”

“We’re even on that score.”

He watches my face calmly, and holds perfectly still, as I glide the razor down his cheek, doing my best to get all of the whiskers.

When I get to his neck, I give up.

“You finish. This part makes me nervous.” He grins and takes the razor, slides me aside, and leans in to the mirror to finish up.

“You did a good job, amore.”

“I was worried that I’d cut you, my love.”

He stills at my words. He always does when I call him my love.

He wipes his face off with a towel, and I lean in and kiss him on the cheek, resting against him for just a moment.