15. Taormina, Sicily
15
TAORMINA, SICILY
Now
N early every item of clothing Alex had packed was laid out on her bed, spilling onto the floor wherever she ran out of room. She had paired endless options together while her favorite “getting ready” playlist vibrated through her headphones. Today needed to be perfect: she would be spending the entire morning navigating the Greek ruins with Danial in the hot Sicilian sun, which meant she needed to look both comfortable and sexy. After much trial and error, she settled on a long floral skirt with flat espadrilles and a blouse that buttoned down the front. (She imagined him undoing those buttons, one by one, in some discreet spot they would encounter on their day together.)
Her body was buzzing with the electricity of anticipation, imagining how she would configure her face when they first greeted each other above deck. After leaving his room the night before, she’d gone back upstairs to finish the game, him following behind only a few minutes later. They spent the evening as normally as possible, laughing with the others and being good sports, mostly from opposite sides of the room. There had always been a thread between them, connecting them anytime they were in proximity, and usually they pulled on it with their little arguments and commentary. But after the moment in his room, the thread felt sturdy enough to ignore. They would occasionally lock eyes, but there was no need to test the connection. Instead, the few moments they shared had been ones of quiet, satisfied acknowledgement.
“Room service,” a sing-song falsetto came from outside her door.
“Come in, Paul,” she replied.
He slinked through the door with a nefarious grin on his face, softly clicking it closed behind him before looking her dead in the eyes and raising a single brow. “Hello.”
She smiled at him, working her wild black curls into a single, thick braid. “I’m going to breakfast, so you have exactly forty-five seconds.”
“I bet you worked up an appetite last night.” He surveyed the many outfit options scattered around the room, laughing to himself. “We’re putting a lot of thought into our look today, I see.”
“My appetite is perfectly normal.”
“Mhm. I need every last detail, stat.”
“About what?” She started replacing the clothes onto their hangers, taking care not to meet his eyes.
“About whatever happened in Danny’s room after he went down on you in front of the whole boat.”
“It was a body shot.”
“I know what I saw.”
“And anyway, I was in there for a grand total of three minutes. Nothing happened.”
“Who do you think you’re talking to?” he asked, sitting himself down on the armchair in the corner of the room. “Now, let’s start with the important stuff: it’s big, right? I just know it’s big, with that voice.”
She met his eyes in the mirror as she freed a few locks of hair to frame her face. “I simply don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Listen, bitch, I will throw you off the side of this boat if you don’t give me at least one detail. There are sharks.”
“You know we don’t get along,” she replied in a faux-professional tone, smiling innocently and shrugging her shoulders as she gathered her clothes.
“ Ugh , what I wouldn’t give for some good old-fashioned hate sex right now.” He pressed on a panel next to him, sliding open one of her empty clothing racks. “Did you like the monkfish, by the way?”
“What do you mean?” She handed him a few hangers, which he neatly placed on the rack.
“Babe, come on. You really think I didn’t plan that lunch to perfection?”
Suddenly, the past few days snapped into clarity: the dinner guest, the lunch, the game? Paul had been stage managing them into a hookup the entire time, and she hadn’t even noticed.
Seeing the realization spread across her face, he smiled. “You’re welcome.”
“You have to be kidding me.” She laughed, replaying the entire week in her mind as she continued to pass off her clothing.
“Of course I’m not kidding you. My wedding gift to myself was finally making this happen, and you two are breathtakingly easy to manipulate.” He slid the rack closed, clicking it into place alongside the rest of the lacquered paneling. “Now, I would like my detail, please.” He extended his cupped hands, closing his eyes.
“Fine,” she took one final look at herself in the mirror before turning toward the door. “I didn’t see it, but I felt it, and you’re right.”
He mimed taking a shot to the heart. “You’re killing me.”
She opened the door, gesturing him out. “Now, I have to get to breakfast. We’re going to be late for the ruins.”
“Fucking on a bunch of old rocks… your mind…” He shook his head, walking past her and into the hallway.
Everyone was already gathered on the deck, sunlight glinting off their glasses and mountains of breakfast spread across the table. Gabriel had evidently spent the night, his arm stretched along the back of Sophie’s chair, absent-mindedly running his fingers through her hair while he read something on his phone. Alex smiled, feeling unusually charitable toward everyone in the world who was currently getting some. Next to them, Guy had his head buried in Dev’s copy of the Financial Times , while Bee was rotating through four different liquids: tea, tomato juice, sparkling water, and Coca-Cola. Dev and Danial were mid-conversation about some tech news, both of their plates piled high with food.
“Good morning,” Dev called over, gesturing to the two open seats at the end of the table.
“Morning,” Alex replied, catching Danial’s eye as an irrepressible smile caught the corners of her mouth. He looked away, blushing behind his rounded sunglasses.
“Hey, Bee, I think you don’t have enough to drink,” Paul observed, grabbing a piece of toast from the basket and slathering it with soft butter.
“Shut up,” she managed, head heavy with the weight of her hangover. “I’m not in the mood.”
“It’s good for you,” he pushed back, biting his toast. “Just because you’re a mother now doesn’t mean you can’t still be Burning Man Bee.”
“Make him stop,” she groaned, turning toward her husband.
“We don’t speak of Burning Man Bee in this house.” Dev smiled, cutting into his omelet. “Or Burning Man anything, for that matter.”
Next to him, Danial quickly shoved a few bites of food in his mouth, grabbing a cornetto off his plate as he came to standing. “Actually,” he said, mid-chew, “we should probably head out, Alex. We’re going to be late.”
The entire table turned to face her; even Bee lowered her glasses to get a better look.
“ Alex ?” Sophie asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I told you.” Paul gestured with his arms at the both of them, leaning back in his chair. “That body shot was a historic peace treaty. They’re friends now.”
“We’re just going on a tour. We both wanted to visit the ruins.” Her tone was unusually clipped, not unlike the one she used at work. “But thank you. What time are we setting sail today?”
“Three sharp, to make it to Greece by morning,” Guy responded, folding the light pink newspaper and taking a sip of his coffee.
“Great. We’ll be back by two, then.” She smiled, crossing to the passerelle.
She could feel their eyes on them still, as she tossed her crossbody bag behind her and bent down to lace her espadrilles up her ankles. Across from her, Danial silently slipped into his leather sneakers and patted down his pockets to make sure he had everything. For once, she didn’t need to hide her admiration of his unwavering diligence.
“We’re never going to hear the end of this,” he whispered, facing away from the crowd.
“What do you mean?” she whispered back, smiling. “We’re just going to see some rocks.”
“Of course.”
Stepping onto the stairs, he turned around and extended his hand. She placed her palm delicately upon it, letting him help her down. It both shocked and comforted her how easy it was to be this way with him, to let the years of friendship they shared before it all fell apart wash over her. It wasn’t just that she had wanted him for so long—she had loved him for so long. Even the smallest gestures of kindness felt like truths she had been waiting years to share.
“Ow-ow!” Paul yelled from across the deck, waving his monogrammed napkin in the air.
“What did I miss?” Gabriel asked Sophie, his accent making the question even more charming.
“Don’t pay attention to them,” Danial insisted, taking her hand more firmly in his as they descended out of view of the breakfast table.
She followed him, observing him from just slightly behind as she often imagined herself doing in the ten years they hadn’t spoken. Everything was as she wanted it: the beautiful, clean angles of his face turning back to make sure she was okay, the dark hair slicked behind his ears just barely coming loose, the finely tuned outfit that highlighted his perfect physique. She felt, looking at him, as if she had curated every detail of him to her own taste. And when he smiled back at her, she melted, her knees weak at the feeling of victory.
“Thank you for letting me join you,” he said, sounding almost nervous as their heels clicked along the dock toward the cable car.
“Oh,” she answered, willing herself to sound casual. “I’m sure you’ll like it, too. You always liked Greek history.”
“I did?”
“Yes,” she laughed, turning to face him. “You don’t remember?”
“I liked a lot of things before I got a job.”
He smiled, but the downward flick of his eyes acknowledged the heavy truth in his statement. Rather than reassure him—or perhaps to avoid the ever-tense subject of their mutual professions—Alex simply reached for his hand between them, clasping her fingers around his own. It was a seamless gesture, two hands coming together as they strode along a dock, like any other couple. And when Danial’s thumb moved, almost imperceptibly, along the back of her fingers, only she knew that it was the most exciting moment of her entire life.