Epilogue
“Actually, my mom helped me check off this bucket list item,” I say, licking my cold, creamy ice cream as it melts down my large waffle cone and drips onto my hand.
“No way! Does Pat’s Famous Ice Cream mean nothing to you?” Gabriel teases.
“But we didn’t have ice cream in a cone,” I point out. “The bucket list item was specifically ice cream in a cone.”
“Ice cream, you say?” Gabriel scoots his metal café chair closer and kisses the side of my mouth, where some chocolate remains. “Hate to break it to you, but if we’re getting all technical, that’s gelato, not ice cream.”
I pretend to pout. “Ice cream isn’t ice cream. Pizza isn’t pizza.”
“We fail Operation Bucket List again,” Gabe adds.
“Then we’ll have to conduct more ice cream recon missions,” I exclaim. “You did help with one more item on my list this evening, though. This is our official first date.”
He counts on his fingers. “So, the picnic, our multiple photo shoots, the gala dance—”
“Didn’t count. Because we never said those were dates.”
“Wow, guess you’ve been keeping score.” His eyes lock on mine. “And your first kiss? Did we technically check that box off?”
I waggle my brows. “If I don’t check that box off, does that mean we get to keep practicing until it’s real?”
“I do like the sound of that,” he says, leaning forward for more “practice.”
The locals sipping their Aperol spritzes beneath striped umbrellas nearby seem like they couldn’t care less about our sickly sweet PDA.
Nessa, in a breezy sundress, and Shaw, rocking shorts and a polo, are here, of course—perfectly incognito.
And with glasses of lemonade and panini with prosciutto and mozzarella, they actually look like they’re enjoying themselves.
They didn’t get Hawaii, but no one’s complaining now.
I lean my head on Gabe’s shoulder, blissed out in the Italian coastal town we’re vacationing in, the buildings cascading down the hillside like a painting. Narrow cobblestone streets wind around houses, occasionally revealing a sudden, breathtaking glimpse of the moonlight-drenched sea.
Couples stroll hand in hand and someone nearby strums a guitar. The breeze is a comforting blend of salt, citrus, and espresso. Everything moves a little slower, as if the whole town is in no hurry to leave summer behind. Sitting next to Gabe, I feel the same.
Gabe takes several photos of the town and then one of me, switching between his father’s analog camera and his digital one.
I squint. “I thought you were done with your application.”
He grins. “Those were for my mom.” I grin too, glad Ruby is now fully in the know about supporting Gabe’s art school plans.
After the runaway success of the jubilee, Tita Karra’s investors came through, giving Ruby enough breathing room to hire more staff and freeing Gabe from his duties.
And after she saw her son’s phenomenal photos, including shots captured with his father’s old camera, it came as no surprise he was interested in applying to a prestigious art academy.
What was a surprise was Gabe’s invitation to interview for one of their coveted fellowships.
It could’ve been done virtually, but since I happened to be headed this way, still chasing the final items on my bucket list, I convinced Gabe to turn it into an in-person visit.
He doesn’t say it, but I know the occasional twitching of his hands is him nervously waiting to hear back from the school. Something tells me Professor Ferro is going to come through for him. I just know it. Meanwhile, I do everything I can to distract him.
“And what about that last photo of me? Still trying to make some easy money with the tabloids?” I tease.
Now I’ve got his attention. “Please, I’d make more in an interview on CNN,” he jokes. “A tell-all exclusive about my time with the Pineapple Princess.”
“You’re really the worst,” I say. “Plus, pineapples are starting to grow on me. After all, that prickly, cheery fruit brought me to you.” My back sinks into his body. I turn so I can see his face. His smile makes my blood hum.
I sigh with contentment. “Thank you,” I say, looking him deep in his copper eyes.
“Of course. I’ll never kiss and tell, Abby. Just kiss,” he teases.
“No, not about that.” I squeeze his hands, matching the intense happiness tightening in my chest. “Until I met you, my life had been one big checklist with a schedule that was perfectly planned, but also mind-numbing.” I gaze out at the sea, where two boats bob in the waves.
“I wanted to impress my parents, but you taught me to also live for myself.”
He pulls me close. “If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be here, let alone have pressed send on my application.
You’re my muse, Abby. You inspired me to follow my dreams and”—he waggles his brows—“I’ve got a portfolio full of photos of you.
” I laugh as he shows me my “brain freeze” scrunched-up face on his phone.
A swift movement catches my eye as Nessa touches her ear with a look of concern. She flashes Shaw a pained look as she climbs onto her Vespa. Seconds later I know the source of her chagrin.
A delighted Elle shrieks as she zooms by aboard a red Vespa, holding on to the back of a boy I’ve never seen.
I trade glances with Gabriel. “Sit this one out?”
He shrugs. “I seem to recall ‘be spontaneous’ on your bucket list?”
“I think we’ve checked that one off multiple times,” I deadpan.
“Except you’re never one to turn down extra credit,” he teases. He’s not wrong.
Gearing up for another exciting summer night underneath the stars with my very own certified smokeshow photographer, I grab my helmet and head for our Vespa nearby.
Besides, there’s no reason Operation Bucket List can’t last longer than one summer. Or that we can’t keep adding new goals.
As Gabe climbs on behind me, I give him a sly grin. “One more pose?” I lean in, and he’s already guessed what I had in mind as our lips press together and his camera clicks.
In fact, I think we’ve just snapped the first photo of what comes next.