Sharon
The chilly wind whipped Sharon’s hair back as she watched the sunset. She sat on the top of Vittorio’s sporty little yacht, a sleek white masterpiece of a sea vessel. Sharon had never been on a boat before, so she’d been extremely excited when Vittorio had asked her to join him. She felt fabulously nautical in a pair for flared navy chinos, boating loafers and a striped white shirt. The air smelled heavily of salt and Sharon took big deep lungfuls. She was happy to be anywhere but the penthouse. She’d been cooped up for almost two full weeks now. A change of scenery had definitely been needed.
Out beyond the noisy cresting waves, the setting sun painted the sky orange and red with splashes of pink and purple. The stunning mosaic of color on the clouds reflected beautifully on the wild water. It was almost as if the whole world was on fire with vibrancy and life.
The yacht, which had been cruising along fairly quickly, gradually slowed and stopped, bobbing gently on the ocean’s surface. A few moments later, Vittorio loped up the stairs from where he’d been piloting the fantastic vessel.
“Pretty view, isn’t it?” Vittorio said. He held two long stemmed glasses and the neck of a fat green bottle between the fingers of his broad hand.
“Beautiful,” Sharon agreed, nodding. “Thank you for bringing me here.”
There was a loud pop as Vittorio forced the stubborn cork out the neck of the bottle. A delicate trail of mist crept out of the mouth. He carefully poured champagne, watching as the bubbles amassed into a thick foam which threatened to spill over the top of the glasses. He passed one glass to Sharon, who accepted it graciously.
Sharon sipped the sweet, smooth wine. The bubbles tickled her tongue and throat. She felt so spoiled. A date on a yacht wasn’t something she’d ever expected for herself. She’d fantasized about it, of course, but never believed for one moment it would ever become a reality.
The pair watched in awed silence as the sun slipped beneath the horizon, leaving them alone beneath a vast expanse of dark sky dotted with stars. Sharon craned her neck to take them all in. The view of the stars was great in rural Kansas and Sharon had been missing the little twinkles in New York. The constant saturation of fluorescent and neon light rendered the stars almost invisible in the city. But out here, on the water, she could see the cosmic swirl of the Milky Way as she had never seen before.
“Wow,” she breathed admiringly.
“Yeah,” Vittorio agreed.
Sharon looked over at him. The perfectly cut lines of his face were bathed in bluish starlight. His dark eyes were turned up, shining in contentment and wonder. When he looked down and noticed Sharon’s gaze, he scooted closer so that his denim-clad thigh pressed against hers. He put a hand under her chin, tilting her face and planting a tender kiss on her lips. Sharon kissed him back, a twitter of excitement brewing in her chest. Being out here, away from the entire world, with Vittorio, was beyond romantic.
“Would you like me to show you around the boat?” Vittorio asked her, in that low, seductive voice that Sharon would follow anywhere.
“Sure.” Sharon stood, careful not to spill her champagne.
Vittorio rose as well, leading her from the top deck to the cabin. Two plush, taupe leather chairs faced the complicated-looking series of buttons and dials that Vittorio had used to pilot their ship out into the water. Everything in the cabin shone. A small granite countertop ran along the back, hosting a single white orchid that accented the room with its beauty and sweet scent.
Sharon followed Vittorio down another flight of narrow steps to the luxury lower deck. In a compact little living room of sorts, sleek white couches adorned with fat purple throw-pillows surrounded a coffee table made of repurposed driftwood. The room opened on one side to a deck. Sharon could see the dark water lapping at the edge of the deck in the fading light.
“This is nice,” Sharon said. She had thought the penthouse was fancy, but the level of affluence of the yacht was almost too much.
“Thanks,” Vittorio smiled. He was clearly proud of his fancy boat, as he deserved to be.
Sharon noticed a subtle frame that hung further back on the wall. The black frame held a beautiful calligraphy print that Sharon couldn’t quite read. She maneuvered around the coffee table and between the couches to get a closer look. She peered at the ornate script, which upon closer inspection read: “Vittorio & Lara: 6-21-2015”
There’s that name again, Sharon thought, immediately tensing up. Lara had been a persistent nag in the back of Sharon’s head and now here she was again. That date was just under three years ago.
Sharon suddenly swallowed hard. Was Vittorio married?
Vittorio realized what Sharon had seen and winced. “Don’t worry about that,” he told her.
“You, uh,” Sharon started, “you said her name the other night. When you spent the night that first time.”
“Oh,” Vittorio said, clearly surprised.
“Was she your wife?” Sharon asked, sickening jealousy seeping into her voice.
“No,” Vittorio assured her. “I don’t have a wife. Probably never will.”
Sharon didn’t like the creeping sensation of disappointment that lingered in her gut when he said that. Obviously, she had never expected him to marry her, but she hadn’t realized that a tiny bud of hope that he might had begun to blossom.
“So, what’s the date?” Sharon inquired.
“You’re really nosy,” Vittorio told her.
Sharon shrugged. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared Vittorio down until he sighed.
“That’s the date we were supposed to be married,” Vittorio confessed. “Happy?”
She wasn’t happy, she was shocked. “What happened? Why didn’t you get married?” Sharon asked suspiciously.
Vittorio shook his head, his jaw hardening in annoyance. “Why do you care?” he demanded, his irritation palpable.
“Because,” Sharon admitted, “I want to… I want to get to know you better.”
Her voice was so sweet and sincere, she could feel Vittorio’s anger start to dissolve. He looked at her with his dark eyes. Sharon could see pain behind them.
Vittorio took a deep breath, then said, “She died.”