As I climb the stairs back up to my office, I remind myself that I’ll see Lucy again this afternoon. Whatever crap Renata throws my way today doesn’t matter, because tonight I’ll have Lucy in my arms again. We’ll kiss. I’ll explore her body with my tongue and find all the erogenous zones I missed last night. I’ll learn more and more about what makes her feel good. And then I’ll do it all over again.

God, I love making her come. I know men are supposed to be selfish fucks in bed, but man, all I want to do is make Lucy moan against my mouth like she did last night. I love the way she goes silent just before an orgasm hits, like her body has taken her to another universe. I can tell when I’m sucking, licking, or fingering her just right.

But I have so much yet to learn. So much exploring to do. Lucy’s complicated, refined and so fucking sexy that I can’t believe I even managed to drag myself to work today, when I could have spent the day in bed with her.

By the time I hit the top of the stairs, Renata has positioned herself directly in front of me, lying in wait like a lioness about to pounce on its vulnerable prey. Sorry, lioness. There will be no meal for you today. I’m not vulnerable, for one thing. I’m strong as hell, and there’s nothing you could ever do to persuade me to look at you again. Not with Lucy in my life and my bed. Other women may as well not exist anymore.

“Dylan,” Renata says as I get closer, only she doesn’t exactly say it. She moans it, whines it, like she’s pleading with me for something.

“What?” I reply when I hit the top step, my voice tainted by my irritation.

She moves towards me as I try to step around her, forcing me to back into the wall. “I miss you,” she says.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“Do you?” I ask. It’s a rhetorical question. I don’t give a flying fuck if she misses me. She goes hot and cold faster than a witch’s microwaveable tits. She’s a total mess and I’m sorry I ever made the mistake of getting into bed with her.

She reaches out and strokes a finger along my arm, which I yank away. “Don’t you miss me?” she asks.

“Renata,” I snarl. I suppose I should just tell her to fuck off, but I don’t. I’m just slightly too nice to do that to a mentally unstable person. “We have to get to work.”

“The Villa we’re going to see this afternoon,” she continues. “It’s very romantic.”

“I’m not looking at the building for romance. I want to see how its walls are supported.”

“I was hoping we could bring some lunch and eat together, just you and me.”

I glare at her. I can feel my face turning red with rage. Since I’m not a complete and utter moron, I know what she’s doing. “You think you want me, because I brought Lucy here,” I growl. “That’s it. That’s the only reason, and it’s not going to happen. Look—we broke up, Renata. And we’re not getting back together. If you’re not happy with that simple fact, then I can’t help you.”

Great. She’s pouting again. “But I still adore you,” she says, piling it on as she steps towards me again, stroking a finger over my chest. I grab her wrist and hold it tight. “I miss our nights together,” she whispers.

“Well, I don’t.” With that I drop her arm and walk back to my office, slamming the door hard.

This is going to be a long fucking day.

* * *

The first thing I do when I sit down is check my email. There’s a notification of a Facebook photo album from an old college friend, Gary, who was on the football team with me. The heading is “End of term party, June 2010.”

Holy shit. What are the odds of receiving this message, today of all days?

I click on the link, which takes me to my account. My eyes are greeted by several dozen photos from the night of our party. The night Lucy and I kissed.

As I take a quick look, I see a photo of me talking to my friend Aaron, my quarterback jersey adorning my torso. I can see everyone from back in the day, half-drunk, totally stupid and having a great time.

In another photo I spot Chloe, my ex, talking to my friend Aaron.

As I’m staring at the strange assortment of memories, a gentle knock sounds at my door. I turn to glare at the visitor, who turns out to be Paolo. My face breaking into a smile, I signal him to come in.

“Just checking to see how things are with Lucia,” he tells me, shutting the door behind him.

“Very good,” I reply. “And check it out—an old friend just posted some photos.” Quickly I click through them until I see Lucy’s face. She’s standing by the bonfire, a curious glint in her eye, like she’s looking for someone.

“Is that her?” Paolo asks, admiring my lover.

“Yes, seven years ago,” I reply.

“I see why she’s worth waiting for,” he tells me, leaning in to get a closer look. “Nice tits.”

“Watch it, man,” I retort.

“Mi scusi. I didn’t mean to offend.”

“They are nice,” I admit. “Even nicer now than they were then. But yeah, let’s not talk about them. Listen, would you mind if I sent off a quick email before we get down to business?”

“Sure. Go insane,” Paolo says.

“Go nuts,” I reply, laughing. He waves me off, chuckling, and leaves the room.

Quickly I type up a note to Lucy, pointing her towards the link to Gary’s photos. He’s made them public, so assuming that she has a Facebook account she should be able to look at them. Of course she might not want to, given that the party on the beach was so weird for us both. Still, now that we’ve found one another again, it might be good for an amusing look back on more innocent times.

In addition to the email, I shoot her a quick text, hoping she’ll see it as she wanders around Rome on her own.

When I’ve hit send, I pack up my things and steel myself for the trip to the villa. This is not going to be a good day.

Not until I see my Lucy again.