Chapter Fourteen
Andrew comes toward me with three glasses pinned in his hands.
“Let me help you.” I reach out and take mine. I can’t quite meet his gaze, though.
“Are you all right?” The freckles on his face pinch together as he bends his knees to catch my gaze.
“Fine.” I force myself to look up at him.
“You know, I’m his best friend, but I don’t recommend falling for him.”
“It’s not that.” So, in addition to Jasmine, Luca, and me, Andrew also knows this isn’t real. So much for not telling anyone.
“Are you sure? He’s an easy fellow to fall for. At least, most girls seem to.”
I shake my head. “That would probably be an easier problem to solve than the fact that I really, really don’t belong here. But I have to be here as long as the deal runs.”
“Ah, I see. Well, I wouldn’t let that get to you too much. Most of these people aren’t really worth knowing. Besides, you don’t strike me as someone who cares what people think.”
“Everyone cares what people think. And it’s not what they think, it’s what they say.”
“I see. Well, let’s make sure we have some fun and don’t hear them.”
He gives me a sweet smile.
I blink back some tears. “Thank you.”
“Anytime. I’d offer you my arm, but—” he says as he gestures with his two full hands, and I laugh. I take Luca’s drink from him, and we find Luca on his way to our table. “For you,” I say as I hand him the glass. I try to sound completely normal. Luca picks up my cue and we spend the rest of the night putting on our best show yet. I’m seated between Luca and Andrew, and they tell me stories about stupid things the other has done over the years. The people at our table are acquaintances and friends of theirs, and everyone is laughing and telling funny stories. They talk about St.Moritz and the Caymans and places I’ve never heard of. Luca and I dance, and I’m glad he made me get the trail runners for the hike to the abbey as he pulls me out for song after song. Then he drags me through the silent auction, asking if there’s anything I want him to bid on, but the trips to Swiss ski resorts and exclusive Bali spas aren’t any more real to me than being his girlfriend is, so I just say no, thank you.
Somewhere after dessert and before we leave, Andrew wins the use of a fancy sailboat for a day from the silent auction, and the two of them make plans for us to go sailing tomorrow to a small island not that far from Rome, called Ponza that a lot of locals go to in summer. I’ve heard Jack talk about it at school. When I tell them I’ve never sailed before, it’s like I’ve given them a present.
“You’re going to love it,” they say in stereo.
“Are you two sure you know what you’re doing?”
They both laugh. “You’ll be fine, lass, dinna fash,” Andrewsays.
“That means don’t worry. Andy’s a crack sailor. I just do what he tells me.”
“Not true,” Andrew replies. “Luca and I both grew up sailing with my parents. When we were in academy, we always said we’d take a year off and sail around the world.”
“But here we are, day tripping to an island near Rome.”
“He has too many family obligations,” Andrew says. I don’t know how this can be true when Luca can spend his whole summer in Rome chasing a diva, but Andrew seems serious.
“All right, let’s go,” Luca says suddenly. Across the room, Jasmine is leaving with her entourage, and I figure he wants to get back to the hotel, since this is the last night she’ll be in town for a while. When he and Andrew drop me off, they both remind me not to forget about our sailing plans.
I watch my phone the next morning as I eat breakfast at the little kitchen table that overlooks the courtyard. But Luca doesn’t call with his usual tabloid recap, and it starts to feel like a cat and mouse game, as if my phone knows what they’ve said about me but doesn’t have the heart to tell me. Finally, I look at the tabs myself.
Luca and I are there, and we look really nice, I think. Then I read the caption. Luca Kinnaird with his latest girlfriend, Astoria Herriot, fashionably poor in an altered Christian Dior from four years ago.
“Fashionably poor? What does that even mean?”
“What did you say, honey?” my mom asks as she walks in and grabs the teakettle.
“Oh, nothing.” I finish my toast and go back to my room to read the article. I’m not exactly the laughingstock Jasmine predicted, but my wardrobe choices are still a big cause for concern in my budding romance, as the magazine asks if Luca and I are from different planets too far apart. The article doesn’t say I can’t fit into Luca’s world, but there’s enough meat between the lines to make six-foot submarine sandwiches for an NFL team. I check the other tabloids. One says I looked “vintage adorable” in my “throwback gown” and gushes about how kind everyone was to “the gala’s own Cinderella,” while another says that “Astoria Herriot made a good try, but she clearly doesn’t have the assets to run with the jet-set crowd. This sweet, but regular, girl should give up before she embarrasses herself.” Too late for that. They predict Luca will tire of me by the time the annual Rock in Roma festival starts in a couple of weeks. I guess if nothing else, this will make Kelsey and her minions deliriously happy. It may even be a good excuse to break up with Luca when the time comes. But it’s still not an experience I want to re-create for the next six to eight weeks.
Despite my expectations, Luca doesn’t call or text. Maybe he’s too busy getting an earful from Jasmine about how I should have worn her Bride of Frankenstein dress. Or maybe he’s mad at me for not wearing it. That idea bothers me more than it should.
I think about running out to buy a Chiara Ferragni swimsuit for today, but I don’t have three hundred euros or whatever it would be to drop on one. I should never have gotten myself into this mess. And yet, my dad’s scholarship is sitting there on my shoulder like angelic Sylvester telling me to be nice to Tweety.
A little after ten, Luca texts that he and Andrew are downstairs, so I grab my things and tell my mom I’m going.
“Okay,” she says. “I can’t wait to hear all about it! It’s so nice to see you doing things with friends like this.”
“Yes, it’s great. A lot of fun.” I pop out the door, hoping to drag my sarcasm with me before she hears it.
When Andrew sees me, he gets out of the passenger seat to climb in the back, but since I’m small and he’s nearly as tall as Luca, I insist on taking the back seat of the Portofino.
“Don’t mind him,” Andrew whispers as he holds the door for me. “Jasmine was still harping on your dress this morning. She wasn’t happy about that sightseeing spread the other day, either.”
So that explains the designer abomination. I slip into the back seat. Luca gives me a careless hello, and the Ferrari roars off. Andrew makes a few failed attempts at conversation as we drive to a marina forty minutes south of Rome, but Luca doesn’t seem to be in the mood to talk any more than I am. I’m not sure how much is because his girlfriend has gone off on her European tour and how much is because he’s mad at me.
I spend most of the trip arguing in my head all the things I’d never say in real life, like how his remarkably unkind girlfriend tried to sabotage me with a dress that looks like it crawled out of Hester Prynne’s local swamp, or how shallow his universe is with its fashionably poor threshold, or how none of them even have the right to critique anything about me in the first place. I really let him have it. In my head, anyway.
When we get to the marina, Andrew goes off to the harbormaster to check in, while Luca and I lean against the car and look at the bay.
“So, what kind of boat are we going out in?” I say after a few minutes. It’s a beautiful day, and I don’t want to spend it angry.
Luca turns his gaze to me for the first time since I got in the car. For a moment or two, he just looks at me. This is going to be a really long day. Then he wrinkles his nose and says, “Well, for starters, it’s technically a yacht.”
I smile. “Pardon me.”
Luca chuckles. “It’s an easy mistake.”
“Well, at least I didn’t think it was a canoe.”
Luca breaks into his first smile of the day. “Actually, if I’m not mistaken, it’s that one there, with the blue sail.” He points to a huge boat with a bright sail wrapped around whatever beam thing they are wrapped around when not in use. He laughs when he sees my mouth fall open. “It’s a French-made beauty. That’s why Andrew was so keen to get his hands on it. It’s a cutter rigged Beneteau Oceanis 40.1.”
“How big is it?”
“Forty feet.”
“And you two are going to manage all those sails by yourselves?”
Luca shakes his head at me. “It’s not 1950, Story. These babies practically sail themselves. And a cutter has three sails. But, aye, we both could take it across the world if we ever got the chance. You trust me in the Ferrari, don’t you?”
“I guess so.”
“I know you do. You don’t clutch the door anymore or push the imaginary brake pedal you wish was on the passenger side.” He does a little pantomime, including pretending to brake until I laugh.
He puts his arm around me. “Story, don’t be so scared of life, or you’re never going to actually live.”
I look down. “You sound like my mom.”
“She’s right. Why are you so afraid all the time?”
I glance over the harbor, glad my eyes are hidden behind the superexpensive glecks he gave me. “The world is a scary place.”
Luca doesn’t say anything for a few moments. Then he pulls back. “Aye, but that’s not why you’re scared of it.”
I poke the asphalt with the toe of my Converse while he waits for me to answer.
“I don’t know.”
“I don’t really believe that. But you can stick by it if youlike.”
I let out a sharp breath. “It was scary growing up without a dad.”
Luca nods slowly.
“Even before he died, we were on our own for a long time. My mom had to worry every time we moved whether she’d get a safe enough duty station for a single mom and who could watch me while she was at work until she found someone she trusted. I remember being terrified when I was little that something would happen to her. There was no way my dad could have raised me. And then I learned to be scared of what people would say. Believe me, people have no qualms about telling you what a loser your dad is, and how he deserves everything bad that happens to him because he’s a selfish lowlife. It’s almost better that he’s gone, which makes me feel like such a horrible jerk. But most people won’t ask what happened when I say he’s dead. And when they do, I just say he was sick and change the subject. But you’re always living with this skeleton in your closet, except he’s not a skeleton to you, he’s your dad and you want the world to see him the way you see him, secretly, in your heart, like a dad should be, the way he could have been without the substances. But you know they’ll only see the embarrassing remnants if they ever find out, so you hide.” I finish out of breath, all the anger washed out of me.
Luca’s been biting his lower lip as he listened. “I’m sorry, Story. I keep being a jerk to you when I really just want to be nice.”
I rest my head against his shoulder. “You’re not being a jerk, trust me. I’ve had plenty of people be jerks to me.” As soon as I finish, I realize I shouldn’t have leaned into him. I guess I’m so used to him holding my hand or putting his arms around me that I didn’t even think. I pull back too suddenly and catch the surprise on his face before I look away.
“The thing I don’t get is that you’ll go and explore all those places, by yourself, like the Porta Alchemica.”
“When it’s daylight, after I’ve read enough about them and plotted the map to get there and back. I mean, I’ve still been harassed on the streets, like any girl, but I never push the envelope too far. I know where the boundaries are.” At least, I always thought I did, before Luca came into my life.
Andrew runs up to us. “We’re set. It’s that one over there.” He points to the boat Luca thought it would be.
Luca turns to me. “Shall we go push some boundaries, just a little?”
I nod.
“Just remember the first rule of sailing: if it doesn’t seem safe, don’t do it. I promise, I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“Aye, aye, Captain,” I say, and take his outstretched hand.