Gelato

Mia's POV

I watched silently as Federico moved around the kitchen with ease, like he knew exactly what he was doing.

"If I'd known you could cook, I'd have had you making meals for me everyday," I commented as I took a seat on the kitchen island. I'd offered to help him cook a late lunch for us when we had finally left the beach and wandered into the house. But he had told me to sit and look pretty while he put together the best pasta I'd ever tasted— his words, not mine.

He flashed me a wink over his shoulder as he expertly cut up veggies while a delicious smelling sauce simmered on the stove. "That is precisely why I didn't tell you. Mama made sure all of us knew how to cook a decent meal. But I only cook when it's absolutely necessary, or I feel like it."

I nodded. I could imagine his mother staring sternly at him and reprimanding him when he did something wrong while cooking. "How come you feel like cooking today?"

He shrugged. "It's more of a necessity if I don't want to get food poisoning from something you cooked up."

My mouth dropped open in shock. "Excuse me! I'll have you know I'm a great cook!"

He chuckled. "I'll believe it when I see it."

"Fine, then. I'm going to make dinner, and then we'll decide who is a better cook," I declared.

Rico raised his brows at me. "Think you can beat an authentic Italian homemade dish my mom taught me how to make?"

I faltered a little at his words before straightening. "Well, it's not like your mom's cooking it. You are."

He nodded, a small smirk pulling at his lips as he sauted the veggies before mixing it all together.

Soon, he had plated the delicious smelling pasta with a side of garlic bread and red wine. The aroma alone had my mouth watering. And as I took a bite of the pasta, the flavours exploding on my tongue nearly making me moan, I knew there was no way in hell I was going to be able to cook something that topped this pasta.

"Love it, or love it?" Rico asked, clearly proud of himself for what he had cooked.

I rolled my eyes even as a smile pulled at my lips. "Arrogant much?"

"I have a big head, yes," he admitted, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he took a sip of the wine.

I couldn't help but chuckle. "Yeah, both of them are quite big," I agreed, my eyes flicking down to his crotch to tell him exactly which head I was talking about.

He nearly choked on his wine, coughing a little as he looked at me. "The things that come out of your mouth sometimes," he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief.

I chuckled, not saying anything as I focused on devouring the delicious meal he had cooked.

I helped him clear the plates once we were done eating. "You want to go out for some gelato? I know a place close by who serve the best gelato," Rico asked me as rinsed the dishes while I put them in the dishwasher.

I nodded eagerly. "I'd love to," I said as I closed the dishwasher and turned it on.

Rico smiled at me as he wiped his hands on a towel before passing it to me. I smiled back at him, liking the warm, giddy feeling bubbling in the pit of my stomach. I liked how homely this all felt. I'd never really imagined what being with a guy would be like. I'd never thought I'd have a husband or kids or a house with a white picket fence like young girls often did. I'd been too busy trying to keep a roof over our heads and food in our stomachs to think of all this.

But if I had, then I figured this was as close to achieving that dream one could get. Federico seemed like the perfect boyfriend in so many ways. He treated me with care, respected me, always made sure I was safe and always tried to keep me happy. He was someone I could rely on to sort out all my problems, someone I could fall back on in times of need. What more could a girl ask for?

I, for one, was more than satisfied with what we had going on between us.

I briefly wondered if he liked the way I treated him, or not, as he wrapped his fingers around mine and dragged me out of the house and onto the street outside.

"Rico?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you happy with me?" I asked him, point blank.

He seemed confused as he looked down at me, his brows furrowing as he came to a stop. "Of course, I am. What kind of a question is that?"

I shrugged a little sheepishly. I'd never really been someone who could talk about feelings and such easily, but I was suddenly feeling too self conscious about being with Federico. So much so, that I couldn't really stop my incoming word vomit as I looked up at him. "Well, this is my first time being romantically involved with a man. And the way you treat me makes me feel really happy and cherished. I want you to feel the same way, too. So, I asked just to be sure. If you're happy with me, or not. I mean, if not, I can try to change what you don't like, and do more of what you do like. I'm not—" he cut off my nervous rambling by placing a hand on my mouth.

"Cara, I love you just the way you are. And being with you makes me feel like the happiest man alive so you have absolutely nothing to worry about, you hear me?" He asked, removing his hand from my mouth and gently cupping my cheek as he looked deep into my eyes.

I stared at his face, trying to decide if he was being honest or not. But I couldn't see any hints of a lie on his beautiful face. I gave him a slow nod in response. "Okay. If you say so," I said to him, and he placed a quick kiss on my forehead before leading me to the gelato place.

I walked next to him, taking in the picturesque view of the town we were in.

A lot of people in breezy summer clothes milled about the street, talking animatedly amongst themselves as they strolled along the sides of the road. I could see a lot of couples holding hands much like us, which made me look at our own intertwined hands, liking how snugly they fit together. It made my smile widen that much more.

"How far away is the shop?" I asked Rico, looking up at him.

"We're almost there, cara," he replied, nodding to a sign a few feet ahead of us that read GELATO, in bold pink letters.

Though before we could reach the shop, a tall man dressed in all black stopped right in front of us, blocking our path. He seemed to have materialised out of thin air as he looked at us. The man was nearly as tall as Rico, and had a bulky body which made him look big. But it wasn't his imposing physique that had me feeling uneasy, no. It was the way he wouldn't stop staring at me as if he knew something I didn't that sent chills down my spine.

"Ah, happy to finally put a face to the name, Miss Mia," the man said, smirking down at me.

"Who are you?" Rico asked him, his grip on my hand tightening as he pushed me behind him almost reflexively.