Rosalia's Bittersweet Pastry Shop (24 page)

“That was the point!” Antonio laughed as he came closer to Rosalia and took her into his arms. He kissed the top of her head and stroked her hair. Rosalia began to push him away, still mad that he had startled her, but the moment he began running his hands through her hair, she felt her defenses melt away and instead leaned into him.

“I'm sorry! I was just having a little fun. Please, don't be mad at me.” Antonio tilted his head so that his gaze met Rosalia's, his eyes pleading.

She could never be mad at him when he looked like that. She laughed.

“Is that the face you gave your mother when you were a little boy and wanted to get away with bad behavior?”

“How did you know?” Antonio grinned.

Rosalia pulled out of his embrace and resumed walking.

“Would you like to walk with me?”

“Of course. I like to do anything with you.”

Antonio took Rosalia's hand in his and matched her slow pace. She couldn't help glancing over her shoulder to make sure no one saw them.

“Relax.”

“I just don't want Madre Carmela or the other sisters to think we're . . .” She struggled to find the right word.

“Cavorting?”

Rosalia blushed, but she remained silent.

“We're not doing anything wrong, Rosalia. I like you a lot, and when you're ready, I think we should let Madre Carmela know. Besides, I'm sure she has her suspicions.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Come on, Rosalia! We've been spending all of our free days together. I think she likes me and approves of my spending so much time with you. I'm almost certain she would give us her blessing. So there's really no need for you to worry.”

Rosalia pondered what he said. It was true. She had also gotten the sense from Madre Carmela that she thought highly of Antonio, and she always seemed pleased to hear that Rosalia was going with Antonio on their outings. At first, Rosalia had believed it was just that Madre was happy she was getting out of the convent, but then she had noticed how Madre Carmela always had something nice to say about Antonio. It was almost as if she was trying to emphasize his positive attributes to Rosalia. But whenever she thought about telling Madre that there was something more between Antonio and her than friendship, she wanted to hide.

Deciding to change the subject, she said, “Teresa told me of her plans to elope with Francesco. She asked me to be her witness and told me you will stand for Francesco.”

Antonio looked surprised. “She told you?”

“
Si.
She asked me not to tell Elisabetta or anyone else of course.”

“I don't know why I'm surprised. I suppose the two of you have grown close recently.”

“We have. Actually, I've become close to a few of the women here—Anunziata, Mari. . . .”

“So you told her you would be her witness?”

“I did. It looks like we'll be together that day for their wedding.”

“I'm happy for them. They are obviously crazy about each other.”

Antonio's voice did not mirror his words. Instead, he sounded and looked sad.

“Is everything all right, Antonio?”

“
Si.
Just tired.”

“I should let you get some sleep. Teresa told me you went into town to buy supplies.” Rosalia began to take her leave of Antonio, but he grabbed her hand and pulled her toward him. Before she could protest, he wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her.

Rosalia's heart raced. He had never kissed her like this before. His tender kisses of the past few weeks and the gentle prodding of his tongue now deepened into a long, unbroken kiss. Her stomach flipped, and though she felt nervous, she also felt a wonderful warm sensation spread throughout her. Before she knew what she was doing, Rosalia wrapped her arms around Antonio and kissed him back.

When they finally pulled apart, she felt slightly dizzy. She pressed her fingers to her swollen lips. Part of her was a little sad that the kiss was over.

“I'm sorry, Rosalia. I got carried away.” He blushed, a soft smile playing along his lips.

“You don't need to apologize, Antonio. I guess you could say I got carried away, too.” She laughed softly.

“Don't go. I'm tired, but I love spending as much time with you as possible. Come back with me to my place. We can just relax and listen to my radio.”

Rosalia hadn't been to the abandoned chapel where Antonio slept since the day she and Anunziata had trespassed. She was a little scared to be alone with him there, but then again, they had been alone on their outings on their days off. But this was different. They would be in his home, sitting on his bed. From what she remembered that was the only piece of furniture he had.

“Don't be afraid. I promise I won't kiss you. We'll just talk and listen to music.”

Although she was anxious, she also enjoyed being in his presence. He made her feel safe—and loved. Her father had created a safe haven for her and her family in their home. But with Antonio, it was different. She felt that she could go anywhere with him and would never have to worry—as long as he was there with her. Rosalia knew he would always protect her. She was still in awe of how he seemed to be able to read her thoughts and sense her feelings. No one had been able to do this before . . . well, maybe except for Mamma. Antonio always knew, too, when to give her space. He had to be the most patient person Rosalia had ever met. She had noticed he was a careful listener, not just with her but with everyone. Yes. There was no doubt in her mind he was a good person, and the more she got to know him, the more she felt herself falling in love with him. His gentle ways with her and thoughtfulness had won over her trust. But it was more. She admired the kind man he was and the integrity he carried with him. Besides her family, she had never loved anyone the way she loved Antonio. Perhaps that was why she still didn't fully trust her feelings for him and was scared. For the love she shared with him felt so powerful. Though her immense feelings for Antonio still made her anxious, she knew in this moment that she wanted to spend time alone with this wonderful young man with whom she had fallen in love.

“All right. I'll come,” Rosalia said softly, keeping her gaze to the ground.

Antonio beamed.

They held hands once again as they walked to the abandoned chapel. Neither of them said a word. Every few seconds, Antonio's eyes met Rosalia's, and he offered her a reassuring smile.

When they reached the chapel, Antonio unlocked the door and stood back, letting Rosalia enter first.

She could feel her pulse racing once she stepped inside. She was surprised to notice a couple of pieces of furniture now existed: a small, café-style table and a nightstand. Unfortunately, the only place to sit was still Antonio's bed.

“I'm slowly buying more things as you can see, but I don't want to accumulate too much.”

Rosalia nodded her head. Of course he didn't want to collect too many things since he was planning on leaving. What was she doing? She shouldn't be letting herself develop feelings for a boy who was not going to be around.

“Sit down.” Antonio gestured to the foot of the bed.

He went over and turned his radio on. An Italian pop ballad came on.

Rosalia sat at the corner of the bed, trying to look as relaxed as possible.

Antonio sat next to her, but kept some space between them.

She mulled over something to say, but for some reason her mind was blank. Usually, they talked about everything, from their families to what they had baked in the kitchen that day to their childhoods. She supposed her nerves were getting the better of her. Antonio was strangely quiet, too.

Wanting to break the awkward silence, Rosalia blurted, “So when are you planning on leaving the convent?”

Antonio looked at her, surprised, and immediately she regretted her impulsiveness.

He shrugged his shoulders. “I don't know. Not anytime soon. There is still so much I need to learn here, and I haven't saved enough money.”

Rosalia felt guilty. Every time they'd gone out, he'd insisted on paying for everything.

“I suppose I'm partly to blame for your lack of funds.”

“No! I want to treat you. Please! I'm happy when I can do things for you. I'm happy to buy you gifts. What kind of a man would I be if I let you pay when we went out? Don't ever say that. I like seeing you content, Rosalia. It makes me sad when you look sad.”

Now it was Rosalia's turn to look surprised. “Really?”

Antonio took Rosalia's hands in his. “I care about you so much, Rosalia. And as you know from losing your own family, it hurts when you can't be with those you love, and when they are in pain, it also brings you pain. That's how I feel with you.”

Rosalia swallowed hard. She was moved by his words.

“
Grazie,
Antonio. I don't know what to say. That is very kind of you.”

“I'm not being kind. I'm . . .” He turned his head. His gaze rested on one of the saints' statues in the chapel.

Rosalia could not help but see the absurdity of their surroundings. Here she was sitting on the bed of a young man who made her weak whenever he kissed her, and all around them were statues of saints and even one of Jesus and Mary. And to think she was worried about the disrespectfulness of getting caught holding Antonio's hand while they walked around the convent's gardens or the few times they had stolen kisses. Where they were now was beyond disrespectful. She should leave, but her body remained rooted in place. She wanted to be with Antonio. The more time she spent with him, the more she found herself thinking about him when he wasn't around and looking forward to when she would see him next.

Rosalia took her hand out of Antonio's and traced her index finger along his cheek. She then let her hand wander up toward his hair, pushing back a few wisps of his bangs that always hung over his left eye. It gave him a mischievous, irresistible look she loved.

He turned to her, his eyes widened in surprise at her intimate gestures. She then rested her head on his shoulder.

“You're a good man, Antonio. And you are so kind to me. Sometimes I feel I don't deserve it.”

“Why? You're such a sweet person.”

“I know I've held myself back from you, Antonio. That is why I feel I don't deserve your kindness. I don't know what of myself I can give to you, and besides, you are planning on leaving someday.”

“Nothing is set in stone, Rosalia. My plans might change. Besides, who is to say you couldn't come with me?”

Rosalia was stunned. She lifted her head off his shoulder.

“You would want me to come with you—even if you go to Paris?”

“Why not? It would be wonderful. We'd be able to experience the city for the first time together.”

“I don't know, Antonio. We haven't even known each other for long. And then . . .”

“And then what?”

She remained quiet.

“You can tell me anything, Rosalia.”

“I don't think I could be gone from here for a long time. This is my home now.”

Antonio searched her face. After a moment, he nodded. “Your family. You're worried you would be gone if word came about them. But Madre Carmela could let you know. And we can come back. I'm not saying I want to move to Paris permanently.”

“This is going too fast, Antonio. Like you said, you're not planning on leaving anytime soon. There is still so much about me you don't know. And I'm sure there is much about you I don't know. Let's just enjoy the time we have now and see what happens tomorrow then?”

Antonio glanced down at his lap. His face looked pained, and Rosalia felt her heart cringe a bit. She thought about what he had told her about feeling sad when she looked sad. She didn't want to hurt him, but she had to be honest with him. Besides, he had promised her he would take things slow.

“You're right, Rosalia. We have plenty of time. I'm sorry if you feel I'm rushing things. I guess I just wanted to let you know that I care about you a lot, and this isn't just a passing fling for me. In fact, I have been giving more thought to whether I still want to apply to Le Cordon Bleu. There is a culinary school in Palermo I could go to, and while that's a long car trip from Santa Lucia del Mela, it's at least in Italy and not in another country.”

“Oh, Antonio! Please, you mustn't change your plans for me. You wanted to go to the best culinary school, and if that's in Paris, then you should go.”

Antonio stood up, walking toward the statue of Saint Sebastian. The many arrows that pierced the statue's body and the pained look on his face seemed to match Antonio's miserable expression. He ran his hands through his hair before turning around. And Rosalia saw something she had yet to see in Antonio: anger.

“Don't you see, Rosalia? I wouldn't mind giving up Paris for you. That's why I can think about staying here or even asking you to come with me to Paris. I can't envision being without you. Before, you said I was being kind to you when I told you how it makes me sad when you're sad, and happy when you're happy. But I'm not being kind. I'm falling in love with you. Can't you see that? I'm crazy about you, and it's tearing me up on the inside. You're all I think about when I wake up in the morning and go to sleep at night. You're in my dreams. Even when I'm struggling over how to make a pastry better, you pop into my mind! I wonder what you would add to make it better. Then again, whom are we fooling? Your desserts are always better than mine!”

Rosalia lowered her eyes and said softly, “That's not true. You've won a few of the contests we've had. Madre Carmela wouldn't lie.”