Chapter 21
DELANEY
I’m waiting in the gift shop with Cherie while Marcus and Nick line up to buy bottles of limoncello. We may already have some back at the suite, but Gennaro made a compelling argument that the best gift for family and friends is the best limoncello – his family’s.
‘Don’t buy that stuff at the airport – not for people you love,’ he said, making us laugh yet again. Nick’s right – we’re definitely giving Gennaro a cameo in his movie.
But none of this is foremost in my mind – I’m too focused on Nick, who’s laughing at something Marcus said, laugh lines framing his eyes. Hot.
‘Aren’t we two lucky gals?’ Cherie asks, leaning in close.
‘We are,’ I agree, playing along. Only, is it playing if there are genuine feelings involved? My gaze lowers to Nick’s biceps – with his arms crossed, they’re straining against the sleeves of his shirt. Also hot.
‘How long have you two been together?’ she asks.
I tear my eyes away from Nick, Cherie’s question intruding on my little lust fest. Her head tips to the side while she waits for me to answer. It’s shitty lying to such a sweet person, but what choice do I have?
‘Not long – but it’s nice to meet couples who’ve been together as long as you and Marcus,’ I say, shining the light back on them. ‘And you’ve still got that spark,’ I add, which makes her giggle.
‘Well, you gotta work at that, like everything else. Lord knows Marcus drives me crazy sometimes – and not in the fun way,’ she adds with a conspiratorial wink. ‘Although he is going strong in that department, if you get my meaning.’ She breaks into an infectious cackle, and I laugh along with her.
‘But the truth is,’ she says, her laughter fading, ‘if they’re your best friend, if they’re your person, you can ride out any storm. And there will be storms, Delaney – if I’ve learned anything, I’ve learned that. But when you’re with the right person, the good times will always outweigh the bad.’
‘I got a bottle each for the kids and one for your folks,’ says Marcus.
We’ve been so deep in conversation that he and Nick have snuck up on us. I glance at Nick, but it’s impossible to tell if he heard any of that. Not sure how he’d feel about me getting advice on our non-existent relationship.
‘Ooh,’ says Cherie, peeking into Marcus’ shopping bag. ‘But what about your mom?’ she asks, looking up at him.
He scoffs gently. ‘Come on, she’ll just stick it on the shelf, where it’ll collect dust, then we’ll end up throwing it out when she dies.’
‘Marcus!’
Cherie tries to keep a straight face – and it’s a valiant effort – but she can’t help herself and bursts out laughing.
‘He’s right,’ she says to me and Nick.
‘I almost always am,’ Marcus chimes in, ‘unless Cherie overrules me and tells me I’m wrong.’
She grins at him lovingly. They really are walking, talking couple goals.
‘Well, it’s been lovely seeing you kids again,’ says Cherie, rising onto her tiptoes and hugging Nick goodbye.
I expected them to suggest getting a drink or something, so she’s caught me by surprise. But this also means we don’t have to make up an excuse.
Nick was crystal clear earlier about not making plans with our new friends, meaning he wants us to be alone. And he gave me an unmistakable look. I may not be the sexy starlet type who always gets the hot guy, but I know what that look meant.
Unless…
Oh, fuck. He didn’t mean that – he meant it’s time for us to talk. The serious, adult conversation I’ve been dodging all day. God, I’m a moron. A moron who’s falling for someone I shouldn’t – at least, not until I’m free and clear, which I’m not.
And Nick’s so far from free and clear, he couldn’t see it with the Hubble telescope.
There will be storms, Delaney – isn’t that what Cherie just told me? Only I hadn’t counted on a squall blowing in quite so soon.
Cherie lets Nick go and steps up to wrap her arms around me. I return the hug with a tight squeeze – I’m so glad I got that second serving of Cherie. I may never see her again, but she’s given me great advice. Not even Megan could do that.
‘Thanks for the talk,’ I whisper.
‘You’re welcome, hon.’ She steps back and gives me a warm smile. ‘If you’re ever in Charleston, you look us up, you hear?’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ I say and she grins.
‘Good luck,’ she mouths, patting my arm.
I give Marcus a quick hug, then – as if it’s the most natural thing in the world – Nick takes my hand and leads me out of the limoncello distillery.
We step into the sunlight and I shiver, even though the air is warm.
But it’s not about the change in temperature – it’s my fingers laced with Nick’s, his palm pressed against mine.
Nick lets go of my hand to put his sunglasses on – a stark reminder that our ‘couplehood’ is merely a pretence. I fetch mine from my handbag and slip them on.
What happens now?
‘Where should w—’ I start.
‘So, what do—’ Nick says at the same time.
We both fall silent. We’re looking at each other, but his sunglasses are too dark for me to see his eyes, and I have no idea what he’s thinking.
Out of the corner of my eye, the distillery door opens and a couple from our tour walks out, smiling at us as they pass.
‘We should go,’ I say. ‘If Marcus and Cherie come out, we’ll get stuck in one of those awkward second-goodbye situations.’
‘Oh, good point.’
He heads off in the in the direction of our hotel. Where we have a living room and a balcony – both perfectly good settings for a serious talk.
And where there’s a huge frigging bed.
Is that what I want? To fall into bed with Nick in the middle of the afternoon on this glorious day?
Yes.
But also no.
What’s the protocol of excusing yourself before sexy time to break up with your boyfriend? Is it the emotional equivalent of slipping into the bathroom to insert your diaphragm? An emotional prophylactic?
All this is moot anyway – Nick just wants to talk.
Although, he did give that sexy AF monologue last night about all the things he wanted to do to me.
Argh! Which is it?
‘Would you like to stop somewhere? For a drink?’ he asks, the deep timbre of his voice cutting through the game of table tennis inside my brain.
‘I’m guessing not limoncello?’ I ask, glancing up at him.
He smiles. ‘I might need a break.’
‘Is that why you bought two more bottles?’
‘Gifts.’
‘Ah.’ I don’t ask who they’re for, because one of them might be for Pippa.
Up ahead, I spy a small restaurant with a terrace that overlooks the water. ‘How ’bout there?’ I suggest.
‘Sure.’
We wander over and are greeted right away, then shown to a table at the edge of the terrace. We order Aperol Spritzes and I angle my chair to take in the view.
The water is an incredible blue today – multiple blues, really, the shades merging and capped with white. In the distance, the twin peaks of Vesuvius are razor-sharp against the sky, and Naples unfurls along the coast.
I sit up straighter.
‘Nick? Look, we can see Naples.’
We exchange glances, then both look out across the water. Yep, Naples is definitely ash-cloud-free. We both take out our phones, tapping, swiping, and reading.
‘The airport’s reopened,’ he says, ‘while we were at the limoncello place.’
I read a headline that says the same thing, then skim the article. I look up from my phone, squinting into the distance, and spot a hydrofoil heading this way, sending my stomach plummeting.
‘I guess Europe’s opened back up,’ Nick says, his eyes fixed on his phone. He inhales loudly, his expression mutating into a frown.
The waiter returns with our drinks and sets a bowl of olives on the table between us.
‘Grazie,’ we say in unison.
‘Prego.’
When we’re alone again, Nick taps aggressively on his phone.
‘As you can imagine,’ he says, ‘flights are hard to come by – none at all today, but tomorrow… Hmm… I can get a flight to Frankfurt at two, then…’ He taps a few more times. ‘Looks like I can fly from there to Heathrow tomorrow night.’
My stomach is now in freefall, heading towards the earth’s core. Our little ash-cloud bubble has burst.
And Nick is leaving. Tomorrow.
‘Booked,’ he says, giving me a flat-lipped smile. He reaches for his drink, removes the straw, and takes a long pull, his frown deepening.
My mouth feels like it’s packed with sand. I pick up my glass and take a sip, trying to swallow the lump that’s lodged in my throat.
‘What about you?’ he asks as if it’s only just occurred to him.
‘Uh,’ I croak. I take another sip and clear my throat. ‘I’m going to stay. Take my original flight.’
‘You’ll finally have the room to yourself,’ he says.
‘Yeah.’
Tell him, says the little angel on my shoulder – or the devil – I can’t tell any more, because the lines between right and wrong have blurred dramatically over the past few days.
Tell him!
I draw in a deep breath. ‘I’m breaking up with Nicholas,’ I say, not daring to look at him. I suck on the straw again, drinking a huge gulp of spritz while the silence swells between us.
I’d rather get a bikini wax in the middle of Santa Monica Pier than be sitting here right now. Nick’s silence, that stony expression… Ah, shit. I’ve clearly misinterpreted what’s going on between us.
I fix my eyes on the hydrofoil, now halfway to Capri.
‘Delaney, hey…’ he says in a gentle, placating tone. God, that may be worse than the silence.
He extends his hand across the table towards me, palm up, inviting me to take it and completing the let-her-down-easy trifecta.
What’s my move here? Do I even have a move? Within seconds of discovering he could leave Capri, he had a flight booked outta here. If he wanted to stay – more to the point, if he wanted to stay with me – he would.
He withdraws his hand, and his fingertips drum on the table.
‘It’s not because of you,’ I say, wishing I could suck the words back into my mouth before I’ve even finished.
‘No, I didn’t—’ He cuts himself off and I look over. ‘I didn’t think it was.’
‘Great, glad we cleared that up.’
My phone chimes – it’s face up on the table, a message from Nicholas on the screen:
Landed safely. Let me know if you’re coming.
I look across and Nick’s reading the text. I flip the phone over. Great fucking timing, Nicholas.
‘Sorry,’ says Nick.
‘It’s okay.’
‘So, he’s back in London then?’
‘Yeah. I guess he and Pippa didn’t embark on a passionate affair after all.’ Geez, Delaney! I throw my head back and sigh loudly. ‘That was dumb – I’m sorry.’
‘It’s okay,’ he parrots.
I reach for the spritz and drink deeply. It’s going straight to my head – not surprising considering it’s off the back of a generous limoncello tasting. We tried three types, including one infused with honey – but that reminded me too much of cough drops – and a cocktail called an Amalfi Sour.
No wonder I’m buzzing.
‘So, what about the rest of your time here? What do you think you’ll get up to?’ he asks casually, as if we weren’t this close to fucking last night.
‘Well, True North gave us a bunch of excursions, right?’ I say, swivelling to face him. ‘I guess I’ll do those.’
‘Oh.’
He seems surprised. But what did he think? That I’d spend the next couple of days moping around our suite, pining for him? Why are men so dumb sometimes?
‘Yeah, there’s Villa San Michele… a guided shopping tour of Capri Town… and the spa is supposed to do amazing treatments.’
This time, when I sip from my straw, I lift my chin, channelling Meg Ryan in a 90s romcom – pure spunk.
‘Oh – great,’ he says with forced enthusiasm. ‘Sounds like you won’t even miss me.’
Both our eyes widen as his words hit their mark. He blinks, shakes his head, and looks away.
‘I only meant—’ He stops himself. Huh – maybe I didn’t misjudge things.
After a moment, he meets my eye and mentally I give him kudos, marvelling at how the tables have turned.
‘You only meant…?’ I ask, slipping the straw into my mouth and arching my eyebrows.
He grins. ‘Geez, Delaney – un-fucking-fair and you know it.’
I release the straw then smack my lips together. Even I’m impressed with this sex-kitten coquettishness. Who the hell is this gal?
‘Gah!’ he growls and the couple at the next table look over.
‘Shh,’ I whisper, leaning in close, ‘you’re scaring the tourists.’
‘Hah!’ he laughs.
I sit back and we lock eyes for a long beat.
‘I will, though,’ he says, his voice low and gruff.
‘Will what?’ I ask – no guile, no flirting this time, because I’ve completely lost the thread of our conversation.
He leans across and pins me with a potent look.
‘Miss you.’
‘Oh.’
And I’m right back to being the dorky gal from LA, the one who’s way out of her depth and trapped in a situation straight out of a frigging romcom.