Chapter 43
I lie there with my head on Nico’s chest, feeling it rise and fall with every breath.
His fingers comb through my hair, tracing tingling trails in my scalp.
I’m in the clouds—happy and rapturous and light, another unexpected experience that’s taken my breath away.
This great love that I had been waiting for was right in front of me, in the only place I wasn’t looking.
While this trip hadn’t turned out at all how I expected, it has exceeded every possible expectation.
I sigh dramatically. “So this must be about the time it happens, then. Just tell me, will it be poison? Or will you immobilize me with chloroform and then dump me into the sea?”
“What are you talking about, Sora?”
“I thought it was obvious. My murder?”
Nico rolls his eyes. “You’re still on that, huh.”
“Always.” I grin, then plant a sloppy kiss on him. “Though there’s still one pressing matter we will have to address.”
“Oh yeah? What’s that?”
“Someone is going to have to let Lorenzo down easy. I think he was already planning our wedding.” I put my finger on my nose. “Not it.”
Nico scoffs. “He’ll be just fine.”
“You mean I wasn’t the love of his life?” I feign shock.
“He has a new love every hour.”
“Ouch.” I giggle as I hold Nico’s pendant in my hand. “What does it mean?” I turn the gold disc over, trying to decipher the images.
“It’s Saint Peter. Patron saint of fishermen.”
“Well, that’s very fitting.” I inspect the opposite side. “What’s the key that is engraved here?”
“He was also known as the locksmith—they say he holds the key to heaven.” Nico bites the inside of his cheek as he thinks. “I’ve always liked that. It’s a reminder to always lead in kindness, to help others. It’s my compass, of sorts.”
“I love that.” While my exposure to religion mostly consisted of jumping on my grandfather’s back as he knelt for his morning prayers on our living room carpet, I appreciate the way Nico pulls inspiration and guidance from it.
His phone lights up the small cabin with a barrage of notifications. He groans, stretching out his arm to pick it up. “I’m sorry, this isn’t normal. Something’s happening.”
“It’s totally fine.” I lie there as Nico scrolls through his notifications.
“Sora…” Nico’s brow creases.
“What’s wrong?” But instead of responding, Nico flashes his phone screen to me. He has TikTok pulled up to a video with over 1.2 million views.
The video starts with Sailor Carter’s bright, perfectly contoured face.
Over it, the text: 24 HOURS AT THE SANTA ANGELICA IN SORRENTO.
My heart stops. I had almost forgotten the favor I called in.
The video opens with a shot from behind, Sailor swinging open the French doors of her room and sashaying out onto the balcony in a robe that has SANTA ANGELICA printed on the back.
That wasn’t there before, but I got it done just in time from a local embroidery shop down the street.
Her breakfast is waiting on a table, a spread of fresh fruit, pastries, and breakfast meats and cheeses, along with a glass of orange juice and grapefruit juice and a large French press of Italian coffee.
“Enough with the cookie-cutter luxury hotels,” Sailor says.
“We have officially entered the era of boutique, personalized stays. When I go on vacation, I want to escape. I want to be pampered. I want to immerse myself in the culture of where I am. And guys, I found the most perfect place on the Amalfi Coast. A literal hidden gem.” Sailor leaves her room and picks up a book from the take-one-leave-one table, then spends some time reading it down by the pool as she lounges under a lemon tree.
The video cuts to Nico’s mom’s garden. It’s bursting with produce: tomatoes clustered on the vine, rows of basil, bell peppers dangling from their stems. Sailor walks through the aisle of the raised beds, her fingertips skimming the leaves.
She plucks a tomato from the vine, placing it in the basket she’s carrying, then grabs a bunch of basil.
I grab Nico’s wrist. “Oh my God, Nico,” I whisper, because I don’t want this dream to vanish.
“You can even take a cooking class with the owner!” Sailor adds as the video transitions to Nico’s mom stirring a gigantic pot of bubbling marinara sauce.
She’s adorable and charming, bashfully grinning as Sailor throws an arm around her shoulder.
Sailor taste-tests the sauce from a wooden spoon, exaggerating a chef’s kiss into the camera.
Now Sailor is on our moped tour, zooming through the streets with the glimmering seascape as her background. “There’s even a guided tour!” Her mint-green Vespa compliments the striped yellow dress that flutters behind her as she rides.
And then she’s out on the B and B patio for golden hour.
I appear, wearing Nico’s apron, and scoop gelato into a glass, pouring a shot of espresso over the perfect dome of vanilla.
The warm liquid melts the outer layer of the gelato, turning it into a frothy, soupy mess.
Sailor spoons it into her mouth as she peers over the edge, looking out over the water.
“There’s nowhere else on the coast where you can find a complimentary affogato happy hour.
I’m telling you, run, don’t walk, to book this place. You won’t regret it.”
And then she’s in bed, lavender silk eye mask shielding her eyes, with an untouched nightcap on her nightstand, a limoncello drop martini with a twisted lemon peel garnish, a figurative cherry on top of this picturesquely designed day.
“That’s a wrap!” Sailor sings as the video fades to black.
“She posted it!” I clap. “I totally forgot.”
“Sora, how did you do this?” Nico asks.
“It’s a long story, but she owed me one. She shot all of it the day before the tour, when you were out running errands. I swore your mom to secrecy. It’s my thank-you gift for all you’ve done for me this past week.” I gaze up at Nico. “Has the video generated any more bookings?” I ask, hopeful.
“Well, my mom texted that the website crashed.” Nico grins. “But she said that when it came back up, the bookings were off the charts. We are booked through the calendar year. Even over slow season.”
“Wait, for real?” I prop myself on my elbows. “That’s incredible! What does that mean?”
“Well, we aren’t out of the woods just yet, but we should be able to dig ourselves out of the hole we are currently in.
I might be able to travel some, go back to school this fall.
” Nico scrolls through his texts, as everyone he knows is blowing him up about the video.
“Also, Lorenzo has offered to run the moped tour.”
“Oh, dear God.”
Nico knows exactly where my mind is going. “He has promised to not fraternize with the guests.”
I laugh. “Good luck with that! Although… that’s somewhat hypocritical of you, wouldn’t you say?”
Nico smirks, leaning in for another kiss. I melt into him. He pulls back slightly, brushing a strand of hair back from my forehead, cupping my cheek in his palm. “You don’t know how grateful I am for all of this, Sora. How will we ever thank you?”
A faint smile crosses my lips. “I can think of a few things.”
“Is that so?” Nico turns on his side so we’re facing, and I burn hot all over.
He kisses my neck, following the line back down to my collarbones again.
He looks into my eyes as he pulls his pendant over his head and loops it around mine.
The medallion settles between us. “I want you to have it. So you have something that transports you back here, with me, wherever you are.”
“Nico, I can’t.” It’s a family heirloom; it isn’t mine to take.
But he stops me from taking it off, lacing his fingers through mine and bringing them to his mouth to dust a kiss against my knuckles.
I go a little misty and lean into him for another kiss.
This is all so different and it’s so unfamiliar, but it feels like the start of a new adventure.
Nico and I have so much to learn about each other, and we have forever to learn it in.
His lips are soft and lingering beneath my own, like he, too, is savoring this moment, pressing it like flowers between pages to come back to again and again.
“It’s nothing compared to what you’ve done for us,” Nico whispers. “You were wrong, you know.”
“That can’t be.” I flick his forehead. “I’m literally never wrong.”
Nico raises his eyebrows. “I was about to pay you a compliment.”
“Oh? Then please proceed.”
“Earlier, when you were so certain Wes was the sun? You had that all wrong.”
“Is that so?”
“You’re the one who’s always been the sun.
That’s why I gave you those lemon seeds.
You don’t need any guy to give you a lemon orchard—you create that beauty all on your own.
From the moment I met you, you had a glow, a vibrancy.
A fearlessness. That’s what you have always been to me.
” Nico tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.
“I will help you plant them, though.” He smiles, surely imagining the mess I’d make.
“I have seen your attention to detail trying to make a bed.” We both flash back to my brief and unsuccessful attempt at helping him clean the guest rooms.
I bring my lips to his, because if I don’t, I might start crying.
“You know the best part of all this?” he asks.
“There seem to be lots of best parts right now.”
“Yes, but the very, very best part is that this is just the beginning. Of everything.”
“It really is,” I agree, before falling back into him. “Okay, now stop talking.”
“Done.”
Out of the small cabin window we watch the sun rise in full, our unexplored beginning.
It’s a sky like I’ve never seen before, purples and oranges and pinks that swirl together like a mess of cotton candy.
And I am swept away in it. This beautiful country and the majestic sunrise and mostly, as he pulls the covers up over us, Nico.