My Italian Doctor

Chapter Thirteeen

I jumped at the knock on the door, despite me knowing he was on route. I almost skipped to the door to open it to him.

"Hello Miss Hughes, it's pleasure to see you again."

"No fair, I don't know your surname."

"Last name?" I nodded at him, there were so many small differences between English and American English, it had become amusing how often we both got confused. "It's Rossi, George Scott Rossi." He held his hand out for mine but when I gave it to him he raised it to his lips instead of shaking it. The tingles it sent into my skin ran all the way up my arm. It was enough to make my knees slightly weak and I altered my standing position slightly to negate it.

"What do you want to do tonight?"

"It's still early, so I thought I would take you sightseeing around Verona. Show you some of the famous sights."

"Sounds perfect." I grabbed my new bag and slipped on my new shoes, glad that I had opted for some lower than I would usually buy. He grabbed my hand and practically pulled me out of the door. He was like an excited puppy, desperate to share his city with me.

As we walked out of the double doors hand in hand, my attention was pulled by the most amazing vintage Vespa parked right outside. It was royal blue with a cream bench seat and chrome detailing. I was about to comment on it to George when I watched him collect the matching helmet from the bench. "This beauty is yours?"

"Well, actually it's my grandad's. He left it here with his family when he moved to America, so when I moved back I got it out of storage and restored it. It's the best way to get around the city, the streets are so narrow in places." I stroked my hand along the front, truly impressed by how well he had restored it. It appeared he had much more extensive skills than I had given him credit for.

"How old is it?"

"It was built in 1944, still as strong as the day it was built though." I could see the prideful glint in his eyes and it made me smile. It clearly meant a lot to him. I took the helmet he offered me and put it on, pausing while he adjusted the straps for me before bopping me on the nose. I leant up and tried to kiss him, but it didn't work out between the two helmets and we collided and bumped heads. "Come on, hop on."

I had always considered Vespas to be a girly option, but he looked nothing but raw masculinity on it. I slid on behind him and wrapped my arms around him, it was snug but somehow that made it all the more romantic as he zipped off without hesitation. He seemed to be swerving all over the place as he dodged people and other obstacles. I hadn't expected it to feel quite so thrilling and dangerous.

When he stopped, I was confused. "Where are we?"

"Our first stop. Your hotel happens to be in the most historical district and the most tourist-centric one too." He had pulled up on a really busy shopping street and it felt like there were people everywhere. It was almost claustrophobic. I could see a sign right in front of us that led down another small street.

"What is Casa di Giulietta?"

"The home of Juliet from Romeo and Juliet." He looked at me expectantly but frankly, I didn't get it.

"The home of a fictional character?"

"Actually, there are theories that she was not in fact fictional. That both she and Romeo were real people." I couldn't help but get excited by the way he was talking.

"Big fan?"

"Yes, absolutely. It has become an element of pride for the Italian people over the years and many of the tourist attractions here are centred around it. Come on you will love it. It is much less about the play and more about real people not just then but now too." Before I had the chance to argue further he was looping his arm around my waist and taking me along with him down the tiny street. There were so many people coming towards us that it obstructed my view of what we were heading towards. When they cleared, we stood on the edge of a courtyard and the sight before me was more than I could ever describe.

The air was thick with emotion, women were sat on benches writing on small scraps of paper. Some were even leaning against the walls writing. Pieces of paper dotted the walls that had already been left behind by their owners. I spotted two teenage girls in the corner crossed legged on the ground one writing and sobbing while the other had a supportive arm around her shoulders trying to comfort her. So many different languages filled the air but it was clear that they were all speaking the language of love.

There was a young couple reenacting the balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet and I almost laughed at the sight. I had never really considered myself a romantic person but at that moment, I could have been convinced. I shrugged George's arm off me and stepped towards the wall, fingering one of the notes carefully. It wasn't in English so I couldn't read it.

"Dear Juliet, the man I love has moved away. He asked me to go with him but I didn't want to leave my family. I had hoped he would change his mind, but he did not. Now I am alone and cannot stop crying each day. Should I have followed him?"

"Thank you, is it Italian?"

"This one is yes but there are letters in all sorts of languages here. So many people desperate for Juliet's help." As if strengthening his point, I spotted one clearly written in Chinese.

"Why do they not just follow their heart?"

"Because my dear Emily, when your heart is full of love often your brain has to lose some logic to allow for it." I looked up at him and I knew he was talking from experience. For a second I wondered if he was referring to me, but it couldn't be, he hardly knew me. "People still find comfort in Juliet and her story. There are a team of volunteers that respond to the messages and give hope and guidance to the heartbroken."

I had to admit it was much more moving than I had thought it would be. It was less about the fictional character and more about the ongoing quest for love. The heartbreak and reunions that went along with every love story floating in the air all around us, it was impossible not to feel it.

I seemed to spend so long looking at that wall, losing myself in the words of others. By the time I paid any attention to the world again, it was much less busy in the little courtyard and I had realised that the sun had already begun to set on the city. As I looked up at Geroge he laid his lips tenderly on mine. "I guess you enjoyed our visit here?"

"I really did. I didn't expect to but it just wormed its way into my heart. You would have to be truly heartless to not be moved by this place."

"There's one thing left to do before we leave. We need to wish on Juliet." He pulled me towards a statue in the corner of the courtyard. The bronze statue was beautiful but paled in comparison compared to everything else. I hadn't even noticed it until we were practically right in front of it. "Touch her breast."

"What now?"

"You heard me, specifically the right one."

"I am not touching the statue's breast. It feels so wrong, perverted."

"It's tradition."

"I don't care, I'm not doing it." I couldn't stop giggling at the mere idea of touching up a lump of bronze. He grabbed hold of me at the waist and lifted me off the ground one-handed. Holding my hand in his and reaching up so we were both cupping the young girl's breast. It felt more than a little icky but ridiculously funny all at the same time. "What am I supposed to do now?"

"Make a wish." I had no idea what to even wish for, my mind went completely blank. In the end, I wished that the rest of my time in Italy would be happy and uneventful. "Strictly speaking it brings good luck rather than wishes but I'm sure it extends to both."

"Now, you tell me."

"I wanted to know what you would wish for."

"Well, I'm not telling you that. You can put me down now."

"If you insist, but if I had my way I would never put you down again." There was something about the look in his eyes that drove me crazy. Time and time again he had me throwing caution to the wind and doing things completely out of character. Before I knew what was happening we were behind the statue lent up again the wall complete with a trellis digging into my back. The green leaves hung over us but provided little cover.

His mouth crushed mine with such force that I thought my head would crash through the brickwork. His hands roamed up my shirt as though there was no one in the world to see my naked flesh exposed to the world. I should have felt uncomfortable, and self-conscious, but nothing even remotely like that surfaced. The smell of him was so intoxicating that it left me unencumbered.

I tugged at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin beneath my palms. When the fabric finally gave way to me, I whimpered as I felt his warmth against my skin. It seemed like we could barely have a normal conversation without it descending into passion-induced clutches no matter where we were at the time. At that moment, I made another wish, I wished for that intensity of passion to never end.