3. Emily
3
EMILY
PRESENT DAY
What was supposed to be a three-hour long ride turns out to be more than five.
But it’s hard to hate how long the drive is when the view is beautiful. The sapphire Mediterranean Sea gleams below us as the wide highway slowly gives way to narrow single lane roads. Mountains rise up—seemingly right up to the sea—and I can’t help but marvel at the brilliant white houses clustered above on the cliffside, decorated in dazzling red barrel clay tiles of varying hues.
The taxi pulls in front of a cobblestone plaza and I recognize the large fountain carved into a fifteen-foot-high wall of the Amalfi Central Hotel. Pavers are green with damp moss. Angelic faces—worn away by weather—jut from the fountain. Water bubbles from their cracked lips, the soothing sound relaxes me.
“Here we are,” the driver says as he passes a credit card reader over to me.
What little sense of relaxation instantly turns into panic when I spot the bill.
Three hundred Euros!
What the actual fuck!
But there’s nothing I can do now except insert my card into the reader, and agree to pay him for this highway robbery of a ride. At least he’s still willing to help me with my bags when I exit the car. With another toothy grin, he gives me a wave, steps back into the driver’s seat, and peels away.
I swear I can hear him laughing as he disappears out of sight.
The Amalfi Central Hotel is a medium-sized building with a skinny balcony surrounding the second level. Yellow paint coats its outer walls, making it stand out from the otherwise white buildings of the town.
It looks like a lemon, and since the air is heavy with the scent of the fruit, it’s all I can picture it as.
Nadia loves the smell of lemons, so this hotel was a no-brainer.
It takes about ten minutes to check in, haul my suitcase up the narrow steps to the suite, and reach the maroon door with a golden 8 on it. By the time I open the door, my shirt—already damp from the Italian heat—is drenched in sweat and sticking to my chest and stomach.
I need to change into something clean, I think as I push my way inside.
But as eager as I am to put on something dry and non-sweaty, I take a moment to appreciate the room.
There are two large beds with tall wooden posts that rise to the ceiling. Mint-green wallpaper with a white diamond pattern extends over every surface, including the floors where the lavender rug doesn’t hide it. I peek into the bathroom; the sink is shaped like a seashell, and the soap smells like the lemons on the trees outside.
I did my best to find a place where there are reminders of the beach all around us.
But the best part is the balcony. I spent hours on the phone, squeezing out every little detail Nadia wanted. Somehow, in every phone call, she’d tell me that she wanted to sit on a balcony on the Amalfi Coast with a glass of wine in hand, the salty sea breeze in her hair, digging into a plate of freshly made tiramisu in front of her.
I push the glass door aside, letting the warm air into the room. It’s still hot in the bright sun, but the salty sea breeze wafting off the waves directly into my face offers just a tantalizing hint of relief.
I hurry over to my bag. There’s still one more thing to do before Nadia arrives: set up the balloons. The special-ordered lavender, glitter-filled balloons arrived just in time before I left for the airport.
Popping my bag open, I reach inside, moving clothes around to find the balloons.
Wait, hold on.
Since when did I pack a black and silver button-down? Or a cobalt blue tie? Or a pair of Prada lace-up black shoes in a men’s size twelve?
“What the hell?” I whisper.
There’s a sharp knock on the door. Oh shit, is Nadia here already? I thought I had more time!
Still casting confused looks at my bag, I open the door and my eyes bulge even wider when I spot the last person I expected to run into in the world.
Familiar mahogany hair, ice-blue eyes, gray slacks and sienna dress shirt, and a tiny mole just beneath his right eye that shifts up when he smiles.
It’s him!
The handsome stranger that I ran into at the airport five hours ago.
Before I can say something, he holds up a black bag.
“I believe there’s been a mix-up.” His voice is just as crisp and deep as I remember. But my attention is drawn towards the pink Hello Kitty bag on the handle. It’s the same as the one I have on what is clearly not my bag.
“Is that mine?” I ask. “Wait. How … No, why do you have a pink Hello Kitty tag? More importantly, how the hell did you find me here?”
His grin grows wider, and my heart swells right along with it.
“I did what anyone does after arriving: open my bag to change out of my clothes … only to find things that were decidedly not mine.”
Yep, that checks out.
“From the dresses to the heels to the scandalously tiny swim suit in there, and based on a conversation I had with a woman who insisted on not taking a free offer, I assumed that the owner of this bag must’ve been on her way to a bachelorette party.”
I fight to keep the blush from searing further up my face.
Guilty as charged.
“Since this is one of the most popular hotels for bachelorette parties, and I happen to know the owner … I figured it didn’t hurt to ask if a beautiful woman with chestnut hair and blue eyes recently checked in.” Chuckling, he sets my bag on the floor. “How’d I do?”
“Pretty damn good.” I pause, and add hopefully as my heart skips a beat. “Are you staying here then? Since you happen to know the owner and all?”
He laughs again, and this time, I know I can’t hide myself blushing anymore because my whole face—no fuck that, my whole body—feels like it’s on fire. He looks me over, those beautiful ice-blue eyes lingering a moment before they meet mine. The slight, knowing smile—like he’s holding a secret he can’t wait to tell me—grows on his beautiful lips, and sends another surge of heat shooting through my core.
“Not here. But close by. You should visit Salerno if you have the time. The views of the sea are stunning.”
The views here are pretty great too. I ogle his long legs as he walks into the room toward his bag. He bends over to close it, and I can’t help but sneak a look at the firm ass that’s barely contained in his gray slacks. Trailing in his wake, like a whisper beckoning me to lean in for more, is a hint of light soap and aftershave.
“Thanks for finding me.” I feel another drop of sweat rolling down my side as he stands up. Suddenly, I’m aware of just how close we are to each other, and just how closely I’m studying every detail on his handsome face. “You really saved my ass there.”
He leans down, and my mind is suddenly filled with the image of his full lips crushing against mine. His powerful hands pulling me close into his muscular body. The warm sea breeze caressing our bodies as he trails kisses down my body and …
I really need to turn on the A/C.
“Maybe I’ll see you around.” He flashes me another smile and walks past me.
I almost shout Don’t go! But instead, my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth until I finally I blurt out, “Yuppers!”
Fuck. Yuppers? Who the hell says yuppers?
With a final quick glance from his seductively curious eyes, he vanishes down the stairs, the bag rolling gently by his ankles. The light scent of soap and aftershave trails in his wake, tempting me to follow.
I almost do.
Shutting the door reluctantly, I jump straight up when the knock comes. He’s back? I yank the door wide open, excited by the prospect of Mr. Sex-on-Legs returning so fast.
Instead, I see Nadia standing in the hallway, her orange plastic roller case at her side, and her attention straight down the hall where the hot, sexy stranger was just a moment ago.
She whips her head toward me so quickly it sends her blonde hair flipping and her gold sunglasses sliding off her forehead to the floor.
“Emily.” Her lips open into a big, knowing smile. “Who. Was. That?”
“Nobody,” I assure her.
Oh God, why am I blushing? It’s not like anything happened.
“Oh my God, you’re such a terrible liar!” Sliding her bag inside, Nadia bumps the door shut with her hip. “First of all, you go, girl. And second of all, if I weren’t getting married, I’d be fighting you for a chance to see what he’s packing!”
“Careful now, you don’t want me to tell Lawrence.”
“Oh please, as good-looking as Mr. Tall and Sexy might be, I still lucked out with Lawrence. I mean, it’s not every day you have a guy who’s got a footlong?—”
“Okay!” I hold out my arms to stop her before she gets going and won’t stop. “Hi! How are you? How was the flight? How was the drive?”
She practically throws me straight to the floor as she hugs me. “Ahh! We’re here, Emily! We actually made it!”
“Happy to see you too,” I giggle, straining in her grip. “But you’re choking me.”
Her response? Hugging me even tighter.
“Oh my God, that drive! It was ah-may-zing! And the people? And the buildings? Did you see that fountain right out front? We have to get photos there with the other girls!” She’s rambling now and not even giving me a chance to respond. “Emily, this is wonderful! I know this must’ve been hard, what with you breaking up with Phil and all.”
And even though I know she doesn’t mean to, but the mere mention of Phil is like a splash of cold water on my face.
She doesn’t even know the reason for the breakup.
She has no idea what Phil did.
For a moment, I have a powerful desire to just … spill my guts. Don’t. Don’t bring the mood down! You can tell her later, after everything is over and we have to go back to face reality.
She stares down at me with her bright green eyes. Some of her hair has gotten tangled in the peacock feather earrings she has on.
“I think both of us need this,” I tell her. “Actually, I’m not sure who needs it more.”
“I know, right?” Kissing my cheek twice, she helps me to my feet. “Now that that’s out of the way. Spill the tea, bitch. Who. Was. That. Man? And if you say nobody again, I swear to God, Emily, I’m going to find him and march him back here for some real answers.”
“Good luck with that, because it’s the truth,” I reply. “We bumped into each other at the airport, and grabbed each other’s bags by accident.”
I sure as shit would like to know him, though.
“I think he’s into you.”
Snorting, I roll my eyes extra dramatically, making sure she sees. “Okay, relax.”
“Look, I’d be into you too if I were a guy who just got a good look at what your momma gave you.” She points at my sweat-soaked shirt.
Shit! It’s almost transparent! Fresh heat runs up my face. Did he see? Of course he saw! There’s no way he didn’t see! Suddenly I remember his gaze lingering for a moment before he looked me in the eye.
And that knowing smile.
Yeah, he definitely saw.
“I can’t believe that happened!”
“Don’t sweat it, Emily.” Nadia winks. I fight the urge to roll my eyes at her pun. “If you’re not giving hot strangers in Italy a show, then what are we even doing here?”
“I have to change.”
I quickly make my way over to my bag, unzip it, and start looking for something proper to change into. On top of my crumpled clothing is a small slip of paper. The handwriting is neat, tidy, and decidedly not my own.
I promise I didn’t look through your belongings too closely. But if I did , I would tell you that the lavender dress will drive every man in this town crazy.
Be careful when you go out in it, Kitty Cat.
“Emily, are you smiling?”
I shake myself and try to tuck the note in my suitcase under some jeans before Nadia notices. “Am I?”
“Oh my God,” she squeals when she sees the corner of the paper peeking out. “Did he write you a note? Come on, show me! I want to know what Mr. Tall and Sexy said that’s got you grinning from ear to ear!”
“Nadia, stop it,” I say. “I’m here to make sure you have a fun time. The last thing I want is to have you wondering about random guys ogling me.”
“And the last thing I want as your bestest best friend is for you to duck out on fate.” She’s standing with her arms akimbo, watching me. “Or to miss out on good dick.”
That gets a rude laugh out of me. “That’s just a coincidence and nothing else. I’m not chasing strange tail on this trip, Nadia. Guys aren’t on my mind.”
“Because of Phil?”
My back tightens up at the second mention of Phil.
“No, but … Maybe it should be. God, I wish I never dated that guy.”
For so many reasons...
“Emily,” she says. “I’m not asking you to find the love of your life here. Just parachute into a bed with a hot stranger, have some fun, and break a few hearts of your own. Anything’s better than moping over that loser.”
“I guess. But wouldn’t it be great to go back in time and change things?”
“I know you don’t want to talk about what caused the break up.” Nadia searches my face. Shutting her eyes, she releases a long exhale. “But you can’t fix a past that refuses to be changed. You’ve gone out of your way to take care of other people—whether it’s me, your parents, your sister, or that asshole Phil.” I start to argue but she holds up a pointed nail to stop me. “Be selfish, for once in your life.”
“I just … Sometimes I feel like there are things that happened in my life that I could have changed if I was smarter … or kinder … or a lot of things I’m not.”
And might never be.
Coming closer, she lifts my hands in hers, holding on like I’m about to drop off a cliff. My heart is racing like I’m about to.
“You are the smartest, kindest, most considerate person I know in my life,” she says. “Forget the past. Just focus on doing something about your future,” she says solemnly.
Yeah … About that.
I can’t tell her.
If I do, she’ll just want to give me an even bigger pep talk when this weekend should be about her, and not me. So, despite my own heavy heart, I reach out and squeeze her hands tight. My smile is the only thing holding back tears—but whether they’re tears of appreciation or something else, I don’t know.
“Thanks, Nadia.”
“You’re welcome.” She returns my smile, wrapping me in a hug. Her voice is a singsong in my ear. “Which is why I’m making you a promise.”
I tense up with a nervous laugh. “Oh no.”
“You have my blessing—no, fuck that—my order to abandon any and all maid of honor duties if you have a chance to hook up with a hot guy.” She smirks and jerks her head toward the door. “Especially that hot guy. I mean, he’s already got a preview. It’ll be a damn shame if he doesn’t get a taste of the main course. Know what I’m saying? What was his name, by the way?”
I open my mouth … Then I stop.
My heart gives a tiny thud as it drops into the pit of my stomach.
“He never told me.”