Chapter 39
Nico bails us all out. Of course he does. Because he’s Nico.
Since the very moment I met him, he’s shown me exactly who he is.
Conveniently, Nico doesn’t have to front any cash.
He simply sweet-talks the policeman—or blackmails, depending on your interpretation.
Turns out one of the officers is the son of one of his mom’s oldest friends, and Nico happens to have some not-so-flattering photographs of said policeman from the last time Italy played in the World Cup, losing horribly, sending him down a vicious bender.
Whatever photographic leverage Nico has is embarrassing enough to get us out of jail for free.
Bribery and blackmail: It can end wars and buy your way out of the most secure prison.
If only I had snapped a photo of Freddy splayed out in the middle of the street, tied up in the tablecloth.
It could have been my retirement plan if he ever runs for Congress.
While this isn’t some high-stakes operation, it most definitely still feels like power. Nico is well connected, and I see now a man not to be messed with.
Lorenzo, who waits for us by the entrance with a bunch of Nico’s friends, is taking most of the credit, though, puffing out his chest and showboating.
“You should have seen Nico—he was frantic, calling us one after the next. Practically begging us to drop everything to help you all out.” He leans in with that glimmer in his eye.
“I was busy, of course, but do you think I could leave three gorgeous women locked up in jail, in my very own town?” He tsks.
“Not on my watch.” Lorenzo then zeroes in on me.
“I’m still waiting for that invitation to visit, Sora,” he adds, flashing his stark-white teeth.
Nico overhears Lorenzo from where he’s standing by the front desk. He discernibly rolls his eyes, and I try to conceal a smile. Even though I owe Nico a gigantic apology, and things are still totally out of sync with us, it will never get old, seeing his buttons get pushed.
“I haven’t forgotten, Lorenzo,” I say. “You are welcome to visit us anytime. My parents have a very nice lumpy couch that’s calling your name.”
Lorenzo feigns being hurt, putting his hand over his heart and trying to rub out the pain.
Nico wraps up his conversation with the policemen; they all seem to be over the blackmail that just transpired and are hugging Nico goodbye. He walks over, looking only slightly less stressed than he did when he walked in. “Are you okay?” he asks me, face strained and serious.
“Yes,” I say, my eyes wide as I meet his. “Thank you for coming, Nico. You didn’t need to do all of this.”
He simply nods and says, “Good.” Before he turns around and walks straight out the station doors.
Welp. Things were definitely still awkward. I can’t tell if he is still angry with me, just being cold, or if he hates my guts now.
It doesn’t seem that anyone else caught on to Nico’s frigidity, so everyone migrates outside after him. We all stand clustered in front of the police station as we figure out what to do next.
“You’re coming out on the boats with us, right? We were getting ready to go fishing when Nico got the call,” Lorenzo says.
Aurora links her arm with Mari’s, and Mari lights up like a Christmas tree.
How had I missed that she had a crush? I vaguely remember seeing them flirt the day we went fishing, but I was so caught up in my own drama that I missed all the signs that truly mattered.
I never even asked Mari about it. It’s obvious that they’ve been hanging out, maybe the entire time we’d been avoiding each other.
I grin, maybe a little creepily, at them. She deserves a European romance.
Anya meets my gaze, and I give her a little shrug. “Why not?” she answers. “We’re not really dressed for it, though.”
“Nonsense. I have swimsuits, shorts, towels, anything you need is on my boat,” Aurora offers. “Actually, I might have one with me now…” She starts to dig through her bag, pulling out a book to get to the stuff beneath.
Mari’s jaw goes slack. “That book! I’m reading it right now!”
“I love it,” Aurora says. “I had a second copy, but I left it at Nico’s B and B by accident and he can’t find it.”
Mari’s face goes white. “Wait. Did you write notes in the margins?”
“Yes!” Aurora beams. “Have you seen it?”
Anya and I exchange shocked glances as Mari’s eyes almost literally sparkle like the main character in a shōjo manga.
There’s no argument after that. What were we going to do, keep Mari from her destined love because of a few swimsuits?
I’m exhausted—we barely slept all night—but we only have a week left on the Amalfi Coast before we’re due to move on.
I’d jump at any chance to be out on the water, regardless of how tired I am.
Plus, I have to figure out how to apologize to Nico.
He has yet to speak more than four words to me total, and I don’t want to leave things like this.
The group starts to walk in the direction of the harbor.
We aren’t far—the smell of salt water hangs in the air and I can hear waves lapping onto the shore.
Nico leads the pack, keeping a steady, brisk pace.
We throw around the idea of having a fishing competition—whoever catches the most fish doesn’t have to do any of the cleanup chores.
Lorenzo declares himself the winner before we’ve even left land, and it makes me throw my name in the hat too, just to try to dethrone him, even though it’s obvious Mari will sweep the deck with every last one of us.
It’s still dark when we reach the marina; it’s not quite yet five a.m. The echo of our footsteps on the rickety planks float through the air.
Everyone is chatty, laughing, as Mari and Anya give a recap of what happened last night.
No one has noticed that Nico and I haven’t joined in.
I wonder what he thinks of all of this—I’m acutely aware of where he is in proximity to me at all times.
What if Anya and Mari are wrong? What if he doesn’t like me the way I’m realizing that I like him? Worse, what if they’re right?
Aurora’s boat is tied up next to Nico’s. We linger on the dock while we divvy up who is going where. Slowly, the majority of the group trickles onto Aurora’s larger boat, while Mari, Anya, and I hang behind with Nico.
Nico hops in and takes out a few life jackets, trying to keep himself busy.
Mari and Anya exchange glances before following him aboard.
I get on the boat behind them without a word—it’s not like I’m trying to stay on the dock by myself.
I take a seat on the bench in the back, as far away from Nico as physically possible in the small space.
While I’m settling in, Anya leaps the few feet over the water onto Aurora’s boat.
“It’s getting a little too crowded,” she shouts.
“What?” I look around at all the empty space.
Aurora sticks her arm out, beckoning to Mari.
What is going on? I’d figured we’d split up how we had previously: Nico with us three and his cousins and friends on the other boat.
But there is some obvious plotting afoot, because before I know it, Mari is moving in the direction of Aurora’s boat too.
“Where are you guys going?” I start to panic, grabbing Mari’s arm before she can jump.
“Sora, you thought you had everything all planned out. But remember what I said about the best parts of being alive?” Mari says.
“The unexpected bits,” I say. “I remember.”
“Well, now’s the time to embrace it.” Mari lifts her eyebrows suggestively.
I glance toward Nico. The muscles in his arms flex as he works to undo the rope that ties his boat to the dock.
There is so much here that is uncertain.
So much that is complicated by hurt feelings and angry words, and time, and distance, and circumstance.
So much still that we don’t know about each other.
But what I do know is that he’s always made me feel safe, feel seen.
Feel like I matter because I’m me. And recently, he’s made me feel truly alive.
Mari grins at me, then grabs hold of Aurora’s hand and hops over to the other boat too. Their large boat starts to reverse as Nico and I stand there, stunned.
“What is happening?” Nico asks.
“Collusion,” I answer.
Nico yells to Aurora in Italian, and they trade a few barbs. Finally, Aurora yells in English so she knows I understand, “The fish don’t like unresolved sexual tension!”
I blush, then thank God that it’s still dark out and Nico can’t see.
“We’ll be right behind you!” Aurora yells, but soon she leads the boat off toward the horizon, leaving us in their wake.
Nico is all flustered. He engages the choke, starts the engine, and gets his boat moving behind theirs, but they’re already far away.
It’s quiet, and the tension hangs thick in the air.
“Bastards,” I mutter under my breath.
“What was that?” Nico asks, staring straight ahead.
“Nothing.” I shake my head. I might have thought twice about this boat ride if I knew we would be alone like this.
I sit back on the bench near the back of the boat to do what I’ve found myself doing so often recently: use the silence to string together the right sequence of words to tell Nico how sorry I am.