The Italian

We drive to the airport in silence. Olivia’s hand is in mine on my lap, while I am deep in thought.

“Where are you going again?” I ask.

“Down to The Amalfi Coast with my friend Natalie.”

“Who is Natalie?”

“She’s my best friend. We met when we were sixteen and have been inseparable since. She’s been living in London. She’s meeting me there. She’s the funniest person I know. I call her Nat the rat.”

My eyes drift over to her. “Why is that?”

Olivia grins, her affection for her friend obvious. “She’s always getting into some kind of trouble.”

So, she fucks around.

I try to hold my tongue. “Meaning what?” I snap, failing miserably.

“Nothing, she’s just funny. It’s my nickname for her.” She leans over and kisses my cheek as I drive.

“What are you going to do down there?” I ask.

“Sightsee. Look around.”

“Is she single?”

“Yes.”

“Will you be going out at night?”

“Obviously.”

I see red and clench my jaw.

Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t fucking say it.

“So, you’ll be looking for number four down there?” I snap.

Olivia looks out of the window without a care in the world. “I don’t think so.”

I turn to her, horrified nearly running us off the road. “You don’t fucking think so?” I growl. “What is this? An Italian fuck fest?”

She laughs out loud. “I’m teasing you, Rici.” She leans over and kisses my face, while I continue to see red. “Although, I do have to say, I’m loving this jealousy thing.”

I hold the steering wheel with a white-knuckle grip…that makes one of us.

“Can I see you when you come back to Rome?” I ask.

“I’ll think about it,” she says casually.

I glare at her, infuriated beyond belief. No woman has ever played with me before.

She bursts out laughing. “Rici, you are so easy to rile up. I’ll be counting the days until I see you again.” She picks up my hand and kisses my fingertips. “You’re my sun, remember?

“I don’t like you traveling alone.”

“I’m not alone, I’m with Natalie.”

“And what about when Natalie picks up a man? What then?”