Chapter 6
JULES
“Mi scusi,” I asked the hostess. “Lei parla inglese?”
“Sì,” she said, glancing from me to Delaney.
Most did here, which was great. My basic Italian had major limits when my brain wasn’t functioning due to lack of sleep. “A table for two, by the water, please. And we’d love to start with two glasses of white wine and an antipasto.”
This morning, we’d woken up to a knock on the door from a housekeeper with a bag of chocolate croissants, two bottles of water and a fifty-euro loan, courtesy of the boutique hotel’s owner who we’d gotten to know pretty well over the last day.
It was almost noon, and tourists had begun to arrive by ferry and train to the town.
One thing we’d quickly learned about Monterosso was how much busier it got during the day as people, like us, explored each of the five Cinque Terre towns.
Weaving through people, we’d made our way to restaurant number three. This time, we’d got lucky.
“When we walked by here the other day”—Delaney pulled out her chair—“I never in a million years thought we’d be in this predicament.”
With a small table between us, our chairs facing the sea and umbrella keeping the Italian sun from melting us, it really was the most incredible of spots. One we’d planned to visit earlier, until “the incident.”
Ordering an antipasto platter and two glasses of wine, I asked Delaney again about Parker’s ETA. Yesterday was a complete blur.
“As far as I know, they’re still on track to get here by early afternoon.”
“They?”
Our waitress came with the platter filled with meats and cheeses—one almost as big as the table between us—and two glasses of vino rosso.
“Grazie mille,” I said before she hustled away.
The tables to our right and left, all positioned similarly to ours in a straight line looking out over the sea, were now nearly filled.
I took a sip of wine, trying to put the nightmare of the last twenty-four hours from my mind as I waited for Delaney to respond.
She had a sort of… odd look on her face.
“Did I say they?”
The wine glass froze on my lips. Instead of sipping it, I pulled it back down.
“You did.” A creeping suspicion tugged at me. Delaney was definitely guilty as hell, which meant that wasn’t an accidental slip. Parker and his three buddies were basically brothers, so there was a 100 percent chance one of them accompanied him.
Except…
There was no way Mason would leave with the baby, and it was hard to imagine Beck leaving town on a whim with the bar. Which left Cole.
“Please no.”
“I didn’t tell you,” she rushed, “because I know he’s not your favorite person. But you have to admit it was kind of nice of him to jump on a plane to Italy, right?”
Cole and “kind of nice” weren’t two phrases I typically associated together.
Uptight prick? Sure. Kind of nice? Not so much.
Groaning, I reached for an olive, popping it into my mouth and turning toward the Ligurian Sea. Focusing on a sailboat and the deep blue and turquoise green water, I took a sip of wine.
“Jules?”
“Uh huh,” I took a deep breath. Box breathing, my therapist called it. In for four, hold for four—
“The fact that you’re doing your breathing thing isn’t exactly encouraging.”
Out for four.
“He’s not that bad. I mean, some women actually think he’s cute.”
I pictured Cole in my mind. He wasn’t cute. He was gorgeous. Cheekbones for days. Dark-rimmed glasses and outfits that screamed “college professor” despite his perfect face. It was the kind of dichotomy that I could easily explore in a story.
If I were to write him into a story.
Which I wouldn’t do because then I’d need to think about him.
“Cute in a serial killer kind of way.”
Delaney laughed. “Now you’re just being dramatic.”
It wasn’t the first time I’d been accused of that, but if the shoe fit…
“It’s fine,” I said, my calm having returned. It was hard to be annoyed with that view. And, of course, when the whole thing was my fault. “I still can’t believe I left it.”
“Jules,” Delaney chastised. “We’ve gone over this a hundred times.
I didn’t notice either. It was an accident.
” She coupled a piece of salami and parmigiano-reggiano and piled them together.
“Could have happened to anyone. Besides, I was the one who insisted on taking our passports. That was so dumb.”
“It wasn’t dumb.” I grabbed a piece of salami too. “If we decided to take the train back, we might have needed them.”
Delaney picked up her phone. “What the hell?” She stood.
“What’s going on?”
Looking toward the direction of the train station, she stood on her tiptoes and peered into the crowd of tourists making their way toward and past us, heading into town.
“Parker just texted. He said they just got off the train and are making their way toward the hotel. I didn’t expect them so soon.”
The very path we were on which was how we noticed this spot in the first place.
As we waited, I thought maybe we’d missed them. But just as I took a deep sip of wine, expecting to need some liquid courage facing not one, but two people who just got on a last-minute international flight because of my stupid mistake, they appeared.
Delaney was already running toward them as I watched Cole approach. If he wasn’t with Parker in his jeans and tee, Cole could have fit in with the locals. He was dressed more like a European in navy pants and a white button down, though his sleeves were rolled up.
I would ignore that little annoying fact.
But as he came toward me, I suddenly couldn’t look at anything but his forearms. As expected, he looked at me as if I were an idiot.
Full of disapproval. No doubt the perfect Cole Ford would never do anything as stupid as losing his passport. And phone. And wallet.
“Have to say, I didn’t expect this.”
While Delaney talked a mile a minute to Parker, Cole took her seat, lifted up a piece of cheese and popped it into his mouth.
Why did he have to show up with rolled sleeves?
“This?” I asked, faking a calm I didn’t feel. If I could have jumped into the ocean right about now, I would have. Unfortunately, it was a little too far away to be a feasible escape plan. Though I did chuckle a bit at the thought.
“I imagined you with smudged mascara in an off-the-shoulder sweatshirt on your bed with Delaney sprawled across it in despair.”
If it were anyone else, I might have laughed. That was a fairly accurate picture of us last night, minus the smudged mascara.
“Off the shoulder sweatshirt?” I asked instead. “That’s oddly specific.”
Cole’s shrug was so tiny, I’d have missed it if I weren’t looking directly at him.
“Seems like you guys are doing just fine without us. Hi, Jules.”
I stood as Parker joined us, hugging him with all the gratitude in the world. “Thank you so much for coming. I’m mortified you had to do it, though.”
“I’ll admit, Monterosso wasn’t on my bingo card for this week but”—he swept a hand out toward the sea—“this isn’t so bad.”
“It’s even better knowing you’ll be able to get home,” Delaney said. When Cole started to stand, she stopped him. “Why don’t you finish my wine. It’s a shame to waste good food and wine. Our hotel’s like a five-minute walk. We’ll check in and take the stuff and come back for you guys.”
For obvious reasons, Delaney was avoiding eye contact with me.
I’d kill her later.
“Want me to take your bag?” Parker asked.
Cole lifted his backpack from the seat to give it to Parker. “Sure. Just drop this in your room for me.” Taking Delaney’s wine, Cole sipped it, made a face, and put it back down.
The thought of spending even one day with Cole, never mind multiple days… it wasn’t the vacation I’d planned for.
Maybe next time don’t leave all of your most important belongings in a public bathroom.
“So,” he said, making himself comfortable on the seat. “Why don’t you tell me exactly how your girls’ trip turned into an international crisis?”