“Iris, I mean like, jump down from the truck,” Frankie says, leaning forward towards me with a laugh. “Not jump off a bridge.”“Okay, with how this plan has currently gone,” I say, staring at him with wide eyes, “I think you need to clarify these details, Frank.”He laughs, grinning at me, and then
A slow smile spreads across my mouth. “Cool.”“Very cool,” he says, dipping his head for a moment to press his forehead against mine. “We can do…whatever we want.”“Um,” I say, turning my face away from him to study the street I’ve been too panicked, so far, to observe. “Whatever we want but…where t
“Come on, you sad thing,” Frankie murmurs, petting my head and making me look up at him as I laugh. “Let’s go have a drink by the river.”“I’m not sad!” I protest, laughing still. “Just – overwhelmed and…tired and…it’s so beautiful here and…”“And maybe a little sad?”I shake my head no, still smili
And when I put my wine back down on the table, and lean forward as Frankie is doing, we begin to have a good, long chat about what those next steps should be.We stay in Porto for two nights, getting used to the city and getting some basic supplies. Our money goes further than I thought it would, es
When we get to the top of the hill I grimace a little because… Frankie’s description of the place as “gone a bit to crap” is one hell of an understatement. We stop in front of the gorgeous old villa at the top of the hill, both of us hesitating as we look at the slumped and broken porch, the crumple
“What, you like that idea, ‘Ambi?” he had said, grinning at me, I think seeing a dreamer whose spirit for this sort of work matches his own.“Yes,” I replied, a little breathless, nodding eagerly. “That’s – that’s the sort of place I’ve always dreamed of working.”“Well, you’re a good worker,” he sa
The next morning I wake up in Frankie’s arms, my back pressed to his front, and I bite my lip to hold in my little squeak of happiness. Because absolutely everything about this feels perfectly right – warm, and safe, and correct, and good.And I know – I know that crossing that line with Frankie mak
The workers begin to filter through the large kitchen about half an hour later, claiming their plates and their cups of coffee and tea, each giving Matilde and me warm greetings in whatever language is their native tongue. When Frankie comes for his plate I beam at him, marshalling all the self-cont