Delilah's Diary #2: La Vita Sexy Read Online Free

in the shower. I slid up in bed, feeling sore in a pleasant way, sated and yet hungry. My netbook was in my bag next to the bed, and I opened it to write this entry. Luca emerged from the shower about a thousand words ago, kissed me, caressed me, distracted me, and then left to bring back breakfast and let me write. I'm done now, I think, and ready for a shower.
    The question is answered, in my mind.
    I'm going to Firenze with Luca. I don't know if I'll stay at his parents' house or not, but I'll decide that when we get there.

June 13
    Luca drove a pretty little red Citroën DS4. I showed a hint of interest in how pretty the little car was, and like men the world over, Luca was off and running, a flood of half-English, half-Italian exuberance over its performance specs and features and whatnot. What I took away from his impromptu lecture was, primarily, its name, that it was fast, and it was pretty. Most little cars like that get called "cute," but somehow Luca's car didn't seem cute to me. It was pretty, like a sports car almost.
    We left Rome around eleven in the morning after a leisurely breakfast in the hotel room.
    "How long will it take to get to Florence?" I asked.
    "Oh, it is a sort of long drive," Luca said. "Perhaps three hours? If we go direct and without stopping, possible less. But I think maybe we will stop some of the way there and have a lunch."
    I laughed. "You call three hours a long drive?"
    Luca smiled at me. "It is kind of long. Remember, I drive all over Italia selling the wines, so I am in the car all the time. For me, it is not so long. For someone who only lives in one city and does not often leave, yes, it would be trip for a whole day."
    "Three hours is nothing," I said. "My ex-husband's family lives in Montana, and we drive—used to drive, I mean...from Illinois to Missoula for the holidays. Now,   that's a long drive."
    "These places, they are a long way apart?" Luca asked.
    "It's a full twenty-four hours of driving. We live—lived, I mean—near Peoria, which is central Illinois, and his folks lived in Missoula, which is near the far western border of Montana. It's, like...fifteen hundred miles? A little more?"
    "And how often did you do this holiday?"
    "Oh, at least once a year. We'd drive up for Thanksgiving and they'd come down for Christmas. Sometimes we'd switch."
    Luca glanced at me, one hand resting on the gear shifter. "Do you miss him? Tell me truly."
    I stared out the window and the lush scenery passing by, thinking. "I've tried not to think about it. I guess I do, in a way. I mean, I was with him for thirteen years, from high school to just a few days ago. That's like...half my life, with one man. He was wrapped in everything I did, everything I was." I bit my lip, trying to keep the emotions back. "It's been hard sorting him out of my thoughts, out of my decisions. I've been just not thinking about him, since I'm so angry at him. But...really, if I look deep, and hard, I realize I was unhappy. I just didn't understand it, or see it, until after everything happened."
    Luca reached for my hand. "You can talk about it, Delilah. I will not be hurt, or upset. You need to talk about your feelings." I must have smirked at the idea of a man telling me to talk about my feelings, because he laughed and squeezed my hand. "Do not laugh at me. I am not saying I am so good at this for myself, but I know it is needed to be healthy. You have had your life upended. I am your friend, first and most importantly."
    This made my eyes burn and sting. I blinked furiously and squeezed his hand. When I could breathe again, I said, "Thank you, Luca. That means a lot to me. I don't know what to say, though. I just have to keep moving, one day at a time. I've been pretending, even to myself, that I don't care, that I'm too angry to care. But now that it's been a few days...I'm hurt. I gave half my life to the bastard. He was my first and only sexual partner, until I met you. It never even crossed my mind that