35
B eing on a catamaran with your soulmate and your best friend you hooked up with and also might be in love with is awkward. There’s no way around it.
Maybe it’s the fact that it’s a gorgeous day—not a cloud in the vast sky—or maybe it’s the delicious seafood the crew is serving (not pasta), but Teller has fully embraced Caleb. Not that he was ever a jerk to him, but they gravitated toward other people when we were traveling in a bigger group. Today, they’re fishing, playing cards, and bonding over their shared love of eighties synth music.
If I know Teller, this is his way of showing me he accepts Caleb. He’s making an effort to really get to know him. I didn’t know how much I needed his approval until now. Caleb’s even teaching him how to snorkel. I expect Teller to decline and explain his fear of open water, but he enthusiastically slaps on a pair of goggles, shirks the life jacket I offer, and follows Caleb down the ladder. I watch from the safety of the trampoline net, ready to dive in should Teller require assistance, though he seems to be holding his own. The two of them don’t seem to need me at all, in fact.
There’s a gentle, warm breeze on the spacious deck. We huddle, basking in the sound of the waves slapping against the hull. Mei and Dad chat with our captain, who goes by Frosty and is keen on doling out homemade limoncello shots. Every so often, they clamber to get photos in front of the mansions that speckle the rugged shoreline, as well as the odd mountain goat.
By midafternoon, Frosty docks at Marina Grande, where we take a few hours to stroll around the island of Capri. The piazzetta feels fancy, with its posh boutiques; it’s a contrast to the beachwear shops of Positano. After a jaunt in the Gardens of Augustus, Dad, Mei, and Teller opt for a quick tour of the Church of San Michele. Caleb and I head back to the boat for more swimming. Caleb tries to teach me the proper technique for a butterfly stroke, but I’m in my head, psyching myself up to tell him I’m going to stay. Logically, I know he asked me to, but after the whole leaving-me-in-Florence situation, he still makes me nervous.
I finally blurt out, “I’m staying.” I hold my breath to gauge his reaction.
The sunshine sparkles over the crystal-clear water, making his eyes appear a vibrant shade of turquoise. “What? That’s amazing,” he says enthusiastically. “And your dad is okay with it?”
“I haven’t told him yet. I’m going to. Later today.” Truth be told, I’ve been hard-core avoiding the discussion. I already know how it’s going to go.
“What will we do?” I ask Caleb.
His eyes light up. “I’ve always wanted to go up north. To the Dolomites. Though we don’t even have to stay in Italy. We could go anywhere we want.” It’s a wild feeling, having the whole world at our fingertips—well, on a very strict budget.
“I still can’t believe we ran into each other,” I say, spinning around to take in the view. We’re surrounded by megayachts and beautiful boats and everything just feels perfect.
“Yeah, I guess we have Teller to thank for that.”
My arms freeze. “Teller?” I ask, midcough. What does Teller have to do with this?
His lips part. “Teller reached out a few days ago and told me you guys were heading to Positano. He told me where you’d be staying. He was pretty straight up—said I was an asshole for leaving you in Florence and that I owed you an explanation. That I’d be a total tool for passing up an opportunity to be with someone like you. He was completely right.”
I clutch the ladder hanging off the side of the boat, trying to stay afloat. “Wait. Teller reached out to you? Are you serious?”
He eyes me, the lines between his brows creased with confusion. “You didn’t know that?”
“I thought ...” I think back to that day, coming out of the store with our ugly-ass muumuus, hearing Caleb’s voice call my name over the breeze. “I thought we just randomly ran into each other.”
He snaps his head back. “No, definitely not. Have you seen the crowds? I’m shocked I found you as is. He emailed me when you guys were in Tuscany. I just happened to be using a friend’s laptop to Zoom with my mom when I got his message.”
“What day was this?”
“He sent it Sunday morning.”
Sunday morning. The morning after we’d hooked up. I think back to how distracted he was when I found him on the balcony.
My world tilts and everything blurs, a mixture of confusion and embarrassment swirling around me in a thick fog. I hoist myself onto the boat and park myself with a squish on the padded bench, water dripping everywhere. It feels like someone’s just told me the Earth is, in fact, not actually round. I thought running into Caleb was confirmation that my vision was correct. That we’re supposed to be together.
It wasn’t fate, Caleb finding me again. Not really.
It was Teller.
I barely speak for the rest of the day—not that anyone really notices. Everyone is sapped from the sun, content to sit back and enjoy the views as we boat back to the marina. I’m still angry when my feet hit the dock in Positano. Caleb is oblivious to my mood. Still, we say a brief goodbye, agreeing to meet up tomorrow after Dad, Mei, and Teller head to the airport.
As we journey back to the Airbnb, I laser focus on the dark mop of hair on the back of Teller’s head, as though trying to read his mind. Why would he message Caleb after telling me Caleb is an asshole? And why would he do it the morning after we hooked up? Was it that bad? I need answers.
“Hey, can I talk to you for a second?” I say, charging up the stairs to catch up with him.
“Sure, what’s up?” he asks, pausing so we fall back behind Dad and Mei.
“Why didn’t you tell me you reached out to Caleb?” I ask, not bothering to beat around the bush.
He turns his gaze up the steep staircase and blows the air out of his cheeks. “Because I knew you wouldn’t want me to.”
“No shit! I was letting things take their natural course. This whole time I was walking around talking about fate. Thinking he found me here because the universe willed it. But it was you.” Just thinking about it makes me want to crawl into a hole. “How could you not tell me something like that?”
He lowers his head, grabbing the ends of the towel wrapped around his neck. “Crap. I’m sorry, Lo. I thought I was doing the right thing. I mean, didn’t I? You’re back together. You’re staying. It’s still kind of fate.” I think back to what he said on the beach: Fate, or something like it.
I press my fingers to my temples to ward off the impending headache. “I guess I’m just confused. What was your motive? Did you feel sorry for me or something after we hooked up?”
“Are you kidding me? Why would I feel bad for you after we hooked up?” he asks, like he’s offended I’d even question it.
“I don’t know. Maybe you thought it was terrible and wanted to distract me?”
He lets out a huff, pausing to let someone pass by on the stairs.
“No. It’s just the opposite, actually.” He watches me for a moment. “ I was the one that needed the distraction.”
I spin around to face him on the step below me. “But ... the next morning you were so distant. I woke up and you were on the balcony texting Sophie.”
He squeezes his eyes shut and rakes both hands through his hair. “Shit. I wasn’t. I mean, I have texted her a bit, but I wasn’t texting her that morning. She was the last person I wanted to talk to that morning.”
“Then why did you lie?”
“Because when you came onto the balcony, I was messaging Caleb. I thought you saw it over my shoulder so I panicked.”
“But why did you message Caleb in the first place?”
He sucks in a breath. “Because I’m in love with you, Lo. Okay?”