Harry and I stepped out onto the streets of Venice. I smiled as my eyes traveled the sky line. So many old buildings and amazing history hidden within them. Harry took my hand in his and intertwined our fingers. I walked closer to him and started to stroke his knuckles softly.
"Are you alright?" Harry whispered to me. I nodded but I knew I held confusion in my eyes. "You're rubbing my knuckles again."
I smiled, "It must be a stress response. I've never been to Venice before."
Harry kissed my hair, "I won't let anything bad happen. We're going to have fun today." He gripped my hand a bit tighter and pulled me toward a set of brightly colored buildings.
Harry led me into a small pottery shop. We were greeted by the owner, a small middle aged woman with deep brown eyes and beautiful, glossy, black hair. She smiled and gave us both a warm kiss on either cheek. I returned it happily and with grace. Harry looked a bit uncomfortable though.
She pointed to him and giggled, "Americana?"
I shook my head, "Britannico." She laughed some more. I laid my hand on Harry's chest and introduced him, "Harry." She gave a single nod. I motioned to myself, "Enola."
"Bonjourno." Harry smiled cutely at her. We both laughed a bit. His face dropped a bit. HE was thinking we were making fun of him.
"He's cute." The woman smirked at me, speaking Italian.
I shrugged and replied in a poor Italian accent, "He has his moments."
She lifted her eyebrow at me, "Americana?"
I nodded, "I am. My Italian is a bit rusty."
"It's okay. I speak." The woman grinned.
I sighed in relief, "Lovely." WE started to speak about her shop. I was fascinated to find out that the shop had been in her family for years and all of the pottery was done by the men in her family. I listened to the woman with wonder as she told me off her father's latest design. I released Harry's hand and followed the woman to the shelf were the pot was placed. "Oh wow, the color is amazing." I gushed gazing at the bright, firecracker orange with bold red accents.
"My mother makes the paints. She use natural things." The woman, Sabrina, informed me.
"It’s absolutely amazing. She has a gift that's for sure." I smiled brightly examining the tall pot with wide eyes. I felt Harry's hand on my back. I turned back to him and smiled, "Baby, look at this." He chuckled and stood by my side instead of behind me.
"Does leaning in make it look different?" Harry teased with dimpled cheeks. I smacked him in the chest gently. Laughter erupted from Harry and Sabrina.
"Amare?" Sabrina asked. I blushed madly. Harry winked at her. "Beautiful." She murmured to Harry. He gave a single nod. A big smile still plastered across his face.
"Who paints them?" I inquired trying to get the attention off of myself.
"We all do. My grandfather is best. He did this." Sabrina pointed to the piece I was so taken with.
Harry looked at me with intense eyes, "You've never tried pottery before?"
I shook my head, "No. I mean in art school but it was horribly bad attempt." I giggled confessing my poor pottery skills: "I always ended up with a stranger looking mess of clay than what I had started with."
"You're artist?" Sabrina asked with a shocked face. I nodded shyly. "What kind?"
"Should I rattle off the list?" Harry smiled at me. Before I could answer Harry spoke, "She's a photographer, a painter and a sculptor."
"He sounds proud." Sabrina beamed at me. I blushed and hid behind my hair. Not even my mother would speak of my work with the excitement that Harry had.
"I'm mostly a photographer. And I've never done anything nearly as beautiful as these." I gazed around the room in awe. Every piece was so perfectly sculpted and painted. It looked as though the Gods themselves had made them.
"Bollocks." Harry grunted. Sabrina went into a fit of laughter again. "She's amazing. I've never seen some of the things she comes up with. I love her colors and the emotion she puts into them." Harry spoke directly, looking into Sabrina's eyes.
"Amare." Sabrina murmured again. Harry blushed realizing he had gotten a bit intense. Sabrina smiled at Harry and me, "Would you like to see our studio?" Harry quickly agreed not caring how I felt about it. He took my hand in his again and tugged me along. I felt a strange pull with in my mind and heart as I followed him up the staircase. He seemed to be more excited than I was to see the studio. The smile he wore spread light throughout his face, even his eyes were smiling.
When Sabrina opened the door to the studio, I was in awe once again. Pieces of pottery covered every inch of shelving; more than half were still their plain white, waiting to be turned into masterpieces. Sabrina greeted a woman who looked to be well into her sixties, her mother. They spoke to one another softly. Sabrina and her mother gazed back at Harry and me with small smiles. I lifted an eyebrow when they both giggled just as softly as they spoke. I gripped Harry's hand a bit tighter only to hear him snicker quietly. I gently knocked his elbow with my own.
"You worry too much, Noli." Harry whispered before kissing my temple lightly. I rolled my eyes and turned my face away from him. He chuckled once more before tugging me even further into the room at Sabrina's request. I followed slowly. Soon we were met by two men. One looked to be about the same age as Sabrina's mother: her father. The other man looked well into his eighties. He had kind eyes and a warm smile; he reminded me of Harry in that way, such kind eyes.
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