I woke up to a warm hand cupping my right breast, her blonde hair spilling over the other side of my chest. Her leg draped over me, pinning me down with just enough weight to make my left arm go numb. I didn’t care, I loved the way her body clung to mine, her warmth an anchor against the cold morning air.
The faint scent of vanilla, coconut, and a hint of floral lingered around us, one of my favorite combinations. Of course, it was my shampoo. She swore it made her hair softer and shinier, and judging by the way her waves gleamed, I wasn’t about to argue. I kissed her forehead, and she burrowed deeper into my neck, her lips brushing against my skin, trailing to places she now knew too well.
The last few days felt like a dream, one of those absurdly romantic ones that shouldn’t make sense, yet you never want to wake from.
Her so-called “skilled hands,” as she shamelessly called them, began their slow, practiced movements across my chest. Damn her for being so right. A sigh escaped me, unbidden, and she took it as encouragement, her mouth finding the curve of my neck, the dip behind my ear. My body hummed under her touch, sparks chasing each kiss.
“Buongiorno,” she murmured, her Italian still carrying that faint, charming awkwardness that made my chest tighten. It had taken her two days to get that right. Don’t even ask about “Buonanotte.” That had somehow turned into “banana tea.” And yet, I adored her for trying, for diving into my culture with that spark of curiosity that made her impossible not to love.
Her scent filled me again, and I tightened my arms around her, guiding her wandering hand to places I wanted her to linger.
But, as with all perfect moments, reality has other plans.
RIIIIINGGGG!
I squinted at the harsh brightness of my phone screen, my free hand fumbling to silence the shrill noise. “Accidenti!” I muttered in Italian, my groggy brain trying to piece together what had just shattered our bliss. My heart stops for a moment.
“Maya,” I said sharply, urgency creeping into my tone, “do you remember what time our flight is?”
Her lips were still grazing my skin, her fingers tracing idle circles, oblivious to the chaos brewing in my head.
“What?” she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep as her head finally lifted, blue eyes half, lidded and hazy.
“Our flight. It’s at ten. Do you know what time it is now?”
She blinked, her gaze drifting toward the clock. “Six” she said, blinking slowly.
“ Mio Dio , Maya! We’re late!” I shot up, pulling myself free from her grasp, the warmth of her body suddenly replaced by the cold of the room.
She groaned, collapsing back onto the pillow. “Relax,” she muttered. “We still have time.”
“Not if we don’t pack right now,” I retorted, already scrambling to throw clothes into my suitcase. “Why didn’t we pack last night? We should have packed last night!”
Maya stretched leisurely, looking infuriatingly calm as she propped herself against the headboard. “Someone was too busy proving a certain theory,” she teased, a lazy smirk curling her lips. “And by the way, that’s not on me.”
I paused just long enough to glare at her, my cheeks warming at her insinuation. “It takes two, Maya. You weren’t exactly protesting.”
“I didn’t,” she conceded, finally sliding out of bed, completely naked. Not that I was complaining, but really, was that supposed to be helpful? Because all it did was distract me further.
“Maya, please put something on,” I muttered under my breath, rolling my eyes as I turned back to the chaos of unpacked clothes on the floor.
She cocked her head, her smirk deepening. “Why? Am I distracting you, Dr. DeLuca?”
“Immensely,” I shot back, grabbing a pair of shoes and tossing them unceremoniously into my bag. “Unless you plan to pack for me, cover yourself up.”
Maya chuckled softly, pulling on a loose shirt, if only to humor me. “Happy now?”
“Not really,” I replied dryly, though I couldn’t suppress the upward twitch of my lips.
For the next thirty minutes, we were both engrossed in packing, or at least, trying to. Maya moved with sharp, deliberate efficiency, each fold precise, each item arranged as if her suitcase were a perfectly curated display.
I, on the other hand, embraced chaos. Dresses were shoved in alongside shoes, toiletries balancing precariously on a bed of jeans. It wasn’t elegant, but it worked.
Maya caught sight of my suitcase and froze mid-fold. The expression on her face was equal parts horror and disbelief. “Carina,” she said slowly, her voice dangerously calm, “is that what you call packing? That’s more throwing things in than packing.”
I arched an eyebrow at her. “And your suitcase looks like a museum exhibit. What’s next, labels for your socks?”
“It’s called organization,” she snapped, straightening a blouse so precisely I was sure she measured it with her eyes. “You should try it sometime.”
“Why bother when everything fits?” I retorted, zipping up my suitcase triumphantly.
“Fits?” she repeated, gesturing dramatically at the lump of fabric bulging out of the edges. “Carina, your bag looks like it’s about to explode. What are you going to do when airport security opens that mess? It’s a disaster waiting to happen.”
“Well,” I said, unbothered, “some of us are comfortable with a little mess.”
She threw her hands up in surrender before glaring at my suitcase like it personally offended her. “I’m just saying, you’re making your own life harder.”
“And I’m just saying,” I replied sweetly, tilting my head to the side, “you’re making my morning harder.”
She blinked, caught off guard for a second, before her smirk returned, wicked and smug. “Wow, you get hard easily, Doc,” she quipped. Before I could respond, she closed the distance between us, her arms wrapping around my waist.
I barely had time to breathe before her lips found mine in a soft kiss that quickly turned into something deeper, hungrier. Her hands trailed down my back, pressing me closer as her fingers curled into my shirt. My knees nearly buckled when she tilted her head, deepening the kiss until I could feel my pulse racing in time with hers.
Her fingers grazed the curve of my lower back, pulling me flush against her as if we were magnets drawn together. Her teasing smirk faded into something more intense, her lips parting slightly against mine as she whispered my name.
“Maya,” I groaned, my hands finding her shoulders as I tried to push her away gently, though my resolve was slipping with every second. My breath was ragged, and I could feel the fire she ignited burning beneath my skin.
I grabbed a towel, holding it between us like a shield that could stop her from touching me, trying to ignore the way her eyes darkened with amusement. “I’m going to take a shower,” I announced, my voice shaky and breathless, despite my best efforts to sound composed.
Her grin widened, dimples appearing as she leaned in just enough to brush her lips against my ear. “Need some help saving water, Doc?”
I glanced at her, unimpressed. “Didn’t you just say you wanted to repack my suitcase to make it neater?”
Her gaze flicked between my chaotic bag and me, her lips curling into a smirk that spelled trouble. “You know what? You’re right. This time, I’ll agree with you.”
I blinked, caught off guard. Maya Bishop agreeing with me? That was rare enough to warrant suspicion. Before I could say anything, she continued, her voice low and deliberate. “You’re right, sometimes it doesn’t need to be neat as long as it fits.”
Her steps were measured as she closed the distance between us, her hands slipping around my waist. I felt the shift in her energy before I saw it, her mischievous smirk deepening as she leaned in and murmured against my ear, “So, Dr. Carina DeLuca, should we save the water to save the planet?”
“That sounds like a good idea,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “But because of the timing, it’s definitely a bad idea. We need to catch our flight.”
Her hands roamed lower, igniting sparks that spread through my body like wildfire. My breath hitched before I could stop it, and she didn’t miss a beat, her grin widening as her lips brushed against the corner of my jaw.
“Maya, no. Stop it,” I said, trying to sound firm despite my faltering resolve. “We only have half an hour before the driver comes to pick us up!”
She tilted her head, her blue eyes gleaming with mischief as she pulled me closer, her breath warm against my skin. “Maybe we’ll only need ten minutes. For someone who studies women’s orgasms, ten minutes should be plenty. Right, Doc?”
I shot her a warning look, unimpressed but undeniably affected. “Oh, Mio Dio,” I muttered, trying to summon every ounce of willpower I had left.
Her lips caught mine in a teasing kiss, soft and deliberate, clearly designed to make me forget about everything, including our flight. She pulled back just enough to whisper against my lips, her tone dripping with seduction, “Are you sure? Because I’d love to prove you wrong.”
“Maya…” I warned, but it came out more like a plea.
When I turned my head, hoping to avoid her gaze, she took it as an invitation, her lips finding the sensitive spot near my ear. My knees buckled slightly, my laugh mingling with exasperation. “Maya, that’s enough. This is not saving time, or water!”
“Just ten minutes,” she murmured, her tone dipping into that irresistible, sultry pitch that always left me defenseless.
“Maya…” Her name escaped my lips like a warning, but it was far too late for that.
Her smirk was the last thing I saw before she nudged me toward the bathroom, shutting the door behind us.
We ended up spending far more than ten minutes. By the time we emerged, the room was a whirlwind of half-packed suitcases and discarded towels.
“Carina,” she said, her voice tinged with mock innocence as she handed me my dress, “maybe you were right. We’re definitely late now.”
I threw a pillow at her, “Maya Bishop, you gonna pay for this!”
The ride to the airport was anything but peaceful. I pressed myself against the window, my arms crossed as I glared out at the Milan traffic. It felt as though every car in the city had decided to move at a snail’s pace just to test my patience. Beside me, Maya is busy with her sketchbook.
“You know,” I started, my voice sharp, “if we hadn’t spent extra time in the shower, we wouldn’t be running late.”
Maya’s head turned toward me, her eyebrow arching in mock surprise. “Oh, so we’re blaming me now?”
I threw my hands in the air, exasperated. “You’re the one who have that saving water and the planet”
Her smirk widened, that insufferable dimple of hers making a grand appearance. “If I recall correctly, you didn’t exactly resist the idea, Doc.”
I groaned, leaning back against the seat. “I regret that decision for sure”
“And yet,” she quipped, her tone dipping into that teasing lilt she knew would get under my skin, “here you are. Late with me.”
I glared at her, my frustration bubbling over. “Late because of you,” I corrected, though the edge in my voice softened despite myself. “I should have left you in the shower.”
She grinned, leaning closer, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “You could’ve, but you didn’t. That says more about you than me, Dr. DeLuca. And I wasn’t the one who insisted on changing dresses every five minutes like it was Milan Fashion Week.”
I turned to her fully, my jaw dropping in disbelief. “Maya, we’re in Milan .”
She scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. “We’re going to the airport, not Milan Fashion Week.”
I turned to her, arching an eyebrow. “Do you know why it’s called Milan Fashion Week? Because appearances matter. I’m not walking out looking anything less than perfect.”
She threw her hands up. “You could wear a sack and still look like a goddess!, but that will be useless if we missed our flight”
Before I could fire back, the car screeched to a halt. The driver muttered something in Italian, gesturing at the gridlock ahead as car horns blared in every direction. I peeked through the window and felt my stomach sink at the sight of the standstill traffic. My watch told me everything I didn’t want to know one hour until our flight.
“Fantastic,” I muttered under my breath. “At this rate, we’ll be lucky to even reach the check-in counter.”
Maya tilted her head toward me. “Can you ask him to take a shortcut or something? Isn’t that a thing here?”
I rolled my eyes, already knowing the answer before even asking. “Maya, this is Milan. Traffic is a way of life.” I ran a hand through my hair as panic started to claw its way up my throat. “Maya, what do we do if we miss it? I have patients waiting, schedules booked…..”
“And I have…” Maya trailed off, her smirk faltering for just a moment. “Well, technically, I can work remotely, and I could’ve stayed on my first plan.”
I turned to her, tilting my head. “What was the first plan?”
She grinned, that playful smirk returning. “Finding one stunning Italian that left me in airport, someone with beautiful hazel eyes, wavy brunette hair, and a beauty mark right here. ” She reached out, brushing her thumb over the corner of my lips. “Someone who might need my hand to steady hers during the critical moment.”
I rolled my eyes, but a smile tugged at my lips. “That Italian must be so lucky. I envy her.”
“Oh, she is,” Maya said smoothly, leaning closer, her confidence unwavering.
“Gosh, I’m dating a narcissist,” I muttered, shaking my head. “Seriously, Maya. What was the plan?
Her smirk softened into something more genuine. “The plan was to visit your Zia’s house, check out the lake behind the villa, and finalize a design. But, like I said, I had to hold someone’s hand and change my plans.”
I leaned into her side, resting my head against her shoulder as her arm wrapped around me. “I really wish we could stay longer.”
She pressed a kiss to my forehead, her lips lingering for a moment. “I know. Maybe next year?”
I nodded, but the moment of peace was interrupted by the sound of yet another blaring horn outside the taxi.
Maya tilted her head toward me, her mischievous glint returning full force. “You know, worst case scenario, we’re stuck here for another day or two.”
“Another day?” I straightened up, looking at her incredulously. “Maya, do you have any idea how much that would disrupt my schedule?”
“I do,” she said smoothly, leaning back against the seat with the kind of nonchalance only she could pull off. “But think of the silver lining, more time for… research.”
I groaned, biting back a laugh. “You know what? Right now, I need an MRI machine, not for science, but to figure out what’s going on inside your kinky brain.”
She chuckled, utterly unbothered. “Oh, Doc, you wouldn’t believe the things you’d find in there.”
“Please, spare me the details,” I said, crossing my arms and trying to look stern.
Her grin didn’t falter. “You’re missing out. It’s fascinating.”
I shook my head, staring out at the unmoving traffic, but despite the chaos, I couldn’t stay mad at her for long. Maya had this uncanny ability to make the worst situations feel almost tolerable, almost.
“Carina,” she said after a beat, her tone softening as she reached for my hand. “I know it’s stressful, but we’ll figure it out. If we miss this flight, we’ll find another one. And if not, maybe the universe is telling us to slow down for once.”
Her words softened me, as they always did, but only for a fleeting moment before reality set in again. I let out a sharp exhale, leaning my head back against the seat, my irritation bubbling over. “Babies don’t wait for me to come back, Maya. They’re not exactly on holiday schedules.”
Maya turned to me, her lips curling into a teasing smirk. “Couldn’t you just do a Zoom call to guide someone through a delivery? I once saw an OB-GYN give instructions to a firefighter over FaceTime. Seemed pretty effective.”
I fixed her with my best death glare. “Maya, this isn’t a TV show. That’s not how real medicine works.”
She chuckled, utterly unfazed. “I mean, it could be. You’d be a star.”
The car inched forward, the tension between us dissolving into a comfortable silence. As much as I wanted to stay annoyed, I couldn’t stop my gaze from drifting to her out of the corner of my eye. The mix of calm confidence and playful mischief on her face was maddeningly charming.
Even in chaos, she was impossible to resist.
The car finally screeched to a stop outside the terminal. My stomach sank as I glanced at the time on my phone. We were definitely late. Maya threw open the door, grabbing both our bags like a woman on a mission.
“Come on, Carina,” she called over her shoulder, already jogging toward the entrance. “Run faster! Maybe we can still catch the flight.”
I stumbled out of the taxi, hastily throwing cash at the driver. “Maya, I’m not an Olympian. Could you please slow down?”
She turned, barely breaking her stride, her blue eyes flashing with determination. “You don’t have to be an Olympian, Carina. Just move those long legs!”
I huffed, glaring at her as I struggled to keep up. “For someone with legs that short, you’re surprisingly fast.”
Maya shot me a quick smirk, but her pace didn’t falter. By the time we burst into the terminal, I was already panting. My eyes darted around, searching for the display board. When I spotted it, my heart sank further.
We reached the departure board, our eyes scanning frantically for our flight number. And then, there it was, in big, bold, taunting letters.
“Flight 476: CLOSED.”
My heart sank as I stared at the words, the reality of our situation finally hitting me. Maya, meanwhile, groaned loudly, throwing her hands up in frustration.
“I told you to run!” she snapped, spinning around to face me. Her blue eyes burned with irritation, a sharp contrast to her usual playful demeanor.
“Run?” I shot back, my own frustration boiling over. “Maya, we were late before we even got into the car! This is not about running.”
“Oh, but it is about changing dresses five times!” she countered, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Who even does that for a flight?”
I crossed my arms, narrowing my eyes. “I didn’t see you complaining when you couldn’t keep your hands off me this morning. Maybe if someone hadn’t dragged me into the shower, ”
Her jaw dropped. “You’re blaming me for the shower again now? Are you serious, Carina?”
“Yes, I am,” I said, my tone sharp. “Because you’re the one who thought saving water was a good idea when we had a plane to catch!”
Maya took a step back, her expression hardening. “You know what? Fine. This is my fault. Everything is always my fault, right?” Without waiting for a response, she grabbed her suitcase and stormed off toward the other end of the terminal.
“Maya!” I called after her, but she didn’t turn around. I stood there, stunned, as the crowd swallowed her up.
Frustration gave way to practicality as I pulled out my phone and dialed Bailey. It rang twice before her familiar voice greeted me, surprisingly warm. “Dr. DeLuca, Merry Christmas! What’s the emergency?”
I hesitated, swallowing my pride. “Bailey, I missed my flight back to Seattle. There was traffic, and, well, it’s a mess.”
There was a pause before her voice softened. “Carina, take a breath. It’s the holidays. You can afford to take a week, even two, as long as your patients are cared for. Don’t stress about it.”
I let out a sigh of relief. “Grazie, Bailey. I’ll make arrangements immediately.”
“Good,” she said firmly. “And enjoy yourself for once, will you?”
As soon as the call ended, I dialed Jo Wilson, my most reliable colleague. She picked up on the second ring. “Carina! What’s up?”
“Jo,” I began, my voice laced with stress. “I need a huge favor.”
There was a pause before she replied, her tone cautious but curious. “What kind of favor?”
“I missed my flight back to Seattle, and I’m stranded here in Milan. I need you to cover my shifts for a few days until I can sort this out.”
“Milan? Stranded?” Jo’s voice carried a hint of amusement, the kind that made my frustration simmer. “What happened? Did something happen to your plane?”
“Jo!” I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose. “This isn’t funny. It’s been a disaster. Traffic, delays, and, ” I hesitated, hating to admit it aloud. “I missed my flight.”
There was a pause on the other end, followed by a soft, relieved laugh. “Oh, thank God. I thought it was something serious. You’re fine. You’re just… stuck.”
“Stuck?” I echoed, my voice rising. “Jo, this isn’t just ‘stuck.’ It’s a nightmare. I have patients, schedules with some patients, it’s chaos!”
She chuckled, clearly enjoying my distress far too much. “Carina, breathe. It’s not the end of the world. I can handle a couple of things while you figure out how to get back. You’re lucky I like you.”
I softened, her words easing some of the tension in my chest. “Please, Jo,” I said, my tone quieter now. “I’ll owe you forever. Just cover my patients for a couple of days. I’ll make it up to you.”
“Forever is a big promise,” she teased, her voice warm. “But sure, I’ve got you. Don’t worry about anything. Focus on sorting out your mess, and I’ll handle things here.”
Relief surged through me, and I exhaled a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. “Thank you, Jo. Grazie mille. I mean it. You’re saving me.”
“Don’t sweat it,” she replied lightly. “Just get back here in one piece, and maybe bring me some Italian wine or something. You know, as thanks.”
I smiled despite myself. “Deal. You’re the best.”
“I know,” she quipped before hanging up.
For the first time today, the tension in my chest eased. Things were finally looking up.
But then, I just realized, where the hell is Maya?.
I glanced around the terminal, my eyes scanning for her familiar blonde hair. Nothing. My stomach sank as I pulled out my phone, dialing her number again. The line rang, and rang, and rang. No answer.
Frustration bubbled up as I tried again. Still no reply.
What the hell is wrong with me, Maya and airports?
Why does this place seem to separate us?
“Maya!” I muttered under my breath, gripping my phone tightly as I walked toward the area where I’d last seen her.
I stood frozen for a moment, indecision clawing at me.
What should I do now?
Wait for her? Look for her in this sea of people?
I clenched my fists. This was both of our fault. Missing the flight wasn’t entirely on her, even if I was panicked and unfairly lashed out. I shouldn’t have blamed her. I’d let my frustration get the better of me, and now she was gone.
Taking a deep breath, I tried to steady my nerves. My gaze flicked to my phone again.
Nothing.
“Maya, where are you?” I muttered aloud, the pang of guilt cutting deeper. I couldn’t just leave things like this.
With no sign of Maya in the terminal and my frustration teetering on the edge of a full blown explosion, I decided to go to the coffee shop. The coffee shop, the one we’d jokingly promised to meet at after immigration when we first met.
I stepped inside, the warm smell of espresso and freshly baked pastries wafting through the air. It should’ve been comforting, but then I saw her.
Maya sat near the window, her sketchbook open, a pencil poised in her hand as she worked with an infuriating sense of calm. Her blonde hair caught the sunlight, making her look effortlessly composed. A small coffee cup sat beside her, steam curling lazily from the top. She glanced up, scanning the room briefly, and her eyes landed on me, but she didn’t flinch, didn’t react at all. Instead, she took a sip of her coffee, as though nothing had happened.
My temper flared instantly. How could she sit here, sketching, sipping coffee, while I had been frantically searching for her?
I stormed over, my heels clicking sharply against the tiled floor. She didn’t look up until I stood directly in front of her, arms crossed tightly over my chest.
“Maya,” I snapped, my voice low but seething.
She finally looked up, her blue eyes wide with what I could only describe as mock innocence. “Carina,” she said with a faint smile, entirely too casual. “ You found me.”
My jaw dropped. “Found me? You disappeared! I was calling you, searching for you, ”
She gestured at her phone on the table, plugged into the wall. “It’s dead,” she said simply, as if that explained everything. “I needed to charge it... and I needed coffee,” she added, lifting the cup with a shrug.
I stared at her, completely dumbfounded. “You needed coffee?” My voice rose slightly, drawing the attention of a nearby couple. “While I was panicking, imagining every worst case scenario, you were here, sipping coffee?”
“I needed a moment,” she said, her voice maddeningly calm. “I thought it’d be better for both of us.”
My hands flew up in exasperation. “Better for both of us? Maya, are you kidding me? What part of disappearing without saying anything is better for anyone? You didn’t answer my calls! I thought, ” I cut myself off, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I thought you just... left.”
Maya’s expression softened for a fleeting moment before that infuriating smirk crept back. “But you didn’t think that for long, did you? You found me. The universe clearly wanted us to stick together.”
I leaned closer, my fists clenched at my sides. “Gosh, Maya! Do you think this is funny? Do you even realize how terrified I was? I thought, ” My voice cracked slightly, and I quickly looked away, gathering myself. “I don’t care what the universe says. I care that you didn’t tell me. What if I hadn’t come here? What if I decided to leave? Would you still be here, calmly sketching?”
She shrugged, setting down her pencil. “Carina, I know you. You’re not the type to just leave.”
“Maya,” I said through gritted teeth, “this isn’t about what I would or wouldn’t do. It’s about the fact that you didn’t even think to tell me where you were going. That’s not how this works. We’re supposed to be a team.”
She leaned back, her arms crossed as she stared at me. “A team?” she repeated, her tone calm but with an edge. “I didn’t think stepping away for five minutes would turn into this. I didn’t leave the country, Carina. I went to get coffee because I needed space for both of us.”
“Space?” I snapped, my voice rising. “You needed space, so you just... walked away? Without a word? That’s not space, Maya. That’s selfish.”
Her jaw tightened, her calm demeanor cracking slightly. “Selfish? Really? Do you know how hard it was for me not to snap back there? I thought taking a moment would help me cool off before I said something we’d both regret.”
I took a deep breath, trying to steady my voice. “Maya, this isn’t about snapping or cooling off. It’s about communication. If you need time, fine. But you can’t just disappear like that. Do you know what was going through my head?”
Her gaze softened, the defensive edge fading. “I didn’t think you’d react like that... I didn’t mean to make you panic. I just needed a moment to think.”
“Next time,” I said firmly, locking eyes with her, “tell me. Even if it’s just one word. Don’t leave me in the dark, Maya.”
She nodded, her shoulders relaxing. “You’re right. I’m sorry. That was my fault.”
I sighed, some of my frustration ebbing away. “And I’m sorry too. I panicked, and I took it out on you.”
Maya’s lips curved into a small smile, the tension between us finally easing. “We’re a mess, huh?”
“A big one,” I admitted, a reluctant smile tugging at my lips.
She gestured to the chair across from her. “Sit down. Let’s figure out what’s next.”
Reluctantly, I slid into the seat, still bristling but willing to talk. “I just spoke to Bailey,” I said after a moment. “Bailey is my boss, She agreed to give me more time.”
Maya’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Wow. That’s generous of her.”
“Well,” I said with a small smirk, “she didn’t do it out of kindness. I gave her my sponsor report early. She doesn’t have to sponsor my research anymore.”
Maya grinned, leaning forward. “You still need volunteers, right?”
I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Mio Dio, you... I really want to check your brain, Maya Bishop.”
She chuckled, completely unbothered. “You don’t need to. Right now, it’s full of thoughts about an angry Italian who’s even more beautiful when she’s mad.”
I felt my cheeks flush. “Maya...”
Her grin softened, her hand brushing mine. “Okay, okay. Let’s focus. What’s the plan?”
I took a deep breath, the last remnants of tension slipping away. “How about we stick to your original plan, my Zia’s place? We can spend New Year’s Eve there. She’s always hosting a party, and there will be plenty of food.”
Maya’s eyes lit up. “A New Year’s Eve party? That actually sounds... perfect.”
I smiled, finally feeling the weight of the morning lifting. “Then it’s settled. We’ll spend New Year’s with my Zia, eat too much, and dance into the new year.”
“And then,” Maya added with a mischievous glint, “we’ll figure out Seattle. Eventually.”
“Eventually,” I agreed, the chaos of the morning now fading into a distant memory. “But let’s survive New Year’s first.”
The New Year crept in faster than I could have anticipated. Maya and I were now at my Zia’s villa, nestled in the countryside. It was the kind of place where time seemed to slow, the air heavy with the scent of rosemary and woodsmoke. My Zia had, of course, outdone herself for the occasion. The centerpiece of tonight’s dinner? Cotechino con le lenticchie. A family classic.
Maya, in true form, was a curious whirlwind of questions.
“What’s this one called again?” she asked, pointing at a beautifully arranged plate of something that, to her, probably looked intimidating.
“ Insalata di mare, ” I replied, smiling at her enthusiasm. “Seafood salad. My Zia makes it with fresh calamari and shrimp.”
“And this?” She pointed at another dish with wide, inquisitive eyes.
I chuckled. “ Polenta. It’s made from cornmeal. You eat it with the sauce, like this.” I demonstrated, scooping up a piece and dipping it in a savory ragu.
Her face lit up as she took a bite. “This is amazing! How have I not had this before?”
I shrugged playfully. “Because you’ve been too busy living off takeout and protein bars.”
“Hey!” she protested, though her mouth was already full of another bite of polenta.
Dinner passed with laughter and wine, the chatter of family filling every corner of the villa. Maya’s questions kept coming, and I answered each one patiently, thrilled by how captivated she was by my culture. Watching her interact with my family, seeing how she charmed them all with her wit and warmth, it was like she belonged here.
After dinner, as the family settled in to prepare for the midnight countdown, I grabbed a basket I had secretly prepared earlier. Maya raised an eyebrow at me, curious but compliant as I tugged her hand and led her outside.
“Where are we going?” she asked, her voice a soft whisper in the crisp night air.
“To the lake,” I replied, grinning. “There’s something special I want to do.”
We snuck away quietly, the basket swinging on my arm as we walked down the winding path to the water. The moon hung low, casting its silvery glow over the still surface of the lake. The patio by the water was empty, just as I had hoped.
I laid out a blanket, setting the basket down and unpacking its contents, some leftover food from dinner, a bottle of wine, and a small bundle of grapes.
Maya eyed the grapes curiously as she sat beside me, tucking her legs beneath her. When she reached for one, I playfully swatted her hand away.
“ Maya… ” I chided, shaking my head.
“What?” she asked, her confusion obvious.
I held up the grapes. “You don’t know the tradition, do you?”
“Tradition?” Her eyebrows furrowed as she leaned closer. “What tradition?”
“ Le dodici uve. The twelve grapes. You eat one for each month of the year, and with each grape, you make a wish before midnight.”
Maya’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Twelve grapes, twelve wishes? That sounds... intriguing.” She glanced at the clock on her phone. “So we only have thirty minutes? One minute per wish?”
“Exactly,” I said, handing her the bottle of wine. “But we need to be fast. Open this while I start.”
She popped the cork with practiced ease, pouring us each a glass as I picked up the first grape. Holding it between my fingers, I turned to her.
For January,” I began, a playful smile tugging at my lips, “I wish for... good health. For both of us.”
Maya smirked, raising her glass. “A solid start. My turn.” She picked up a grape, inspecting it briefly before popping it into her mouth. “For February, I wish for... less stress. Because, honestly, we’re terrible at relaxing.
I laughed softly, reaching for my next grape. “For March, I wish for my research to finally bring some meaningful results.”
“For April,” Maya added, her voice laced with mischief, “I wish you’d finally let me reorganize your closet.”
I gasped, clutching my chest in mock horror. “ Maya! Wishes are supposed to be meaningful!”
She grinned, her dimples on full display. “Oh, it’s meaningful. Trust me.”
We continued, grape by grape, sharing our wishes as the minutes ticked by. For May, I wished for more time with my family. For June, Maya wished for fewer delayed flights. By the time we reached November, the stars above us seemed brighter, the air heavier with unspoken anticipation.
“For November,” I said, holding up my grape, “I wish for... clarity. For both of us.”
Maya nodded thoughtfully, her expression softening. She picked up her grape, hesitating for just a moment before speaking. “For December, I wish... for us to keep finding ways to surprise each other.”
The clock struck 11:57 as we reached the last grape. I held it up, the weight of the moment pressing down on me. Turning to Maya, I whispered, “For the last one... I wish we can have another year to eat more grapes together.”
Maya’s gaze locked onto mine, her blue eyes shimmering with something that made my chest tighten. She lifted her grape, her voice steady but tender. “I wish you and I will be together forever.”
My breath caught as her words hung in the air between us. The world seemed to pause, the lake, the stars, everything fading into the background.
“You don’t need to wish for that,” I murmured, my voice barely audible. “That’s already happening.”
Her lips curved into a smile, her hand brushing against mine. “I love you, Carina DeLuca.”
A soft laugh escaped me, and I leaned closer, our foreheads touching. “I love you too, Maya Bishop.”
The first firework exploded above us, casting colorful light over the lake, but neither of us looked up. Instead, we closed the small distance between us, our lips meeting in a kiss that felt like both a promise and a celebration.
Her hands cradled my face as the kiss deepened, her warmth wrapping around me like the softest blanket. The fireworks crackled and boomed, but they were nothing compared to the sparks between us. It was as if the world had disappeared, leaving just the two of us in this perfect moment.
When we finally pulled apart, her forehead rested against mine, both of us breathless but smiling.
“You know,” I whispered, my fingers tracing the curve of her jaw, “there’s one more tradition I need to teach you.”
Her eyebrows lifted in curiosity. “What is it?”
I smirked, standing and slowly lifting the hem of my gown to reveal a flash of red lace. Maya’s eyes widened, her grin turning wickedly amused.
“Well,” I explained, standing and slowly lifting the hem of my gown to reveal a flash of red lace, “there’s a tradition that says you need to throw away red underwear for love and luck.”
Maya’s grin widened as she stood, her voice dropping to that teasing tone. “Your wish is my command.”
Her hands found their way to my waist, her fingers brushing over the lace with deliberate care. Her eyes locked onto mine as she slowly slid the fabric down, her touch sending shivers up my spine. When the red lace finally slipped free, she held it up like a trophy, her smirk triumphant.
“Tradition fulfilled,” she murmured, her voice low and full of promise.
Her lips found mine again, her kisses soft but insistent. The fireworks continued to burst above us, but we paid them no mind. This was our moment, just the two of us, wrapped in each other’s warmth, the world fading away.
As we pulled apart, she chuckled softly, her forehead resting against mine once more. “Happy New Year, Dr. DeLuca.”
“Happy New Year, Bambina ,” I whispered, my heart full and my wishes already coming true.