TWENTY-FOUR
The morning light spilled through my windows, golden and soft, as I slipped out of bed, ready to explore Amalfi. Sometimes I can’t believe this is my life—I absolutely love it. Feeling fantastic, I decided to wear a sun dress that tied at each shoulder and was midi in length. The best part it was mainly white with yellow and blue ribbon designs decorating it that perfectly reflected the Amalfi aesthetic. Paired with cork heel sandals, I was the picture perfect vision of embracing an Italian summer. Thanks to the salty air, my hair rocked a natural wave that actually looked like I did it. My wannabe wavy hair doesn’t love the NYC air and usually took some serious coaxing to look decent. So many times over the years, I wanted to just chop it off into a cute bob. This kind of hair reminded me of all the reasons to keep it long. It flowed easily over my shoulder and several inches down my back.
I walked down the street, the crisp air carried the scent of lemon buds and salt water. The quiet hum of the town waking up felt natural. I belonged here. I loved when a place made me feel like I needed to uproot my entire existence and relocate—just like here.
I wandered down cobblestone streets, admiring the colorful buildings and charming piazzas. I strolled through the bustling market, where vendors sold everything from fresh produce to handmade ceramics. I bought a few things, including a beautifully crafted ceramic bowl that I would ship home. The shop owners were friendly and eager to share stories about their crafts, making the experience even more enjoyable.
I strolled past colorful storefronts, bakeries with sweet aromas wafting out, and locals setting up for the day. Sophie’s map guided me along a street with a café called Il Vero Gusto. The smell of freshly baked pastries lured me in, and I couldn’t resist buying a few to snack on. The owner, an elderly woman named Marianna, insisted I tried her special lemon cake.
“E fatto con limoni freschi del nostro diradino,”
she said proudly, handing me a slice.
It was divine—light, moist, and bursting with lemon flavor. I thanked her profusely and continued my exploration, feeling a warm glow from the delicious treat and the kind interaction. I sat outside, watching the world pass by, savoring the simple bliss of the morning.
Later, as I strolled back to the hotel, I spotted Sophie walking across the lobby glowing.
“Charlie!”
she called, her enthusiasm as bright as the sun just like yesterday. “How’s the exploring going?”
“Perfect so far. I enjoyed a little walk and your map took me right by the cutest cafe. It was just busy enough to be delicious without waiting too long,” I teased.
“Good,”
she said with a grin. “Did you see the ceramics shop near the square? They have the most beautiful hand-painted pieces. You have to check it out before you leave.”
We ended up chatting for twenty minutes, sharing stories about travels, favorite foods, and life in Amalfi. Sophie was the kind of person who made you feel instantly at ease, like you’d known her forever.
By the time afternoon rolled around, I was ready to soak up the sun. The hotel pool, an infinity edge spilling into the horizon, was the perfect spot. The turquoise water sparkled under the Mediterranean sun, and the view of the cliffs and sea was nothing short of magical. I floated on my back, eyes closed, letting the warmth melt away any lingering stress.
As the afternoon faded into evening, I got a call from an unknown number.
“Hello?”
I answered, curious.
“Hi, Charlie. It’s Gia Lione,”
a warm voice said on the other end.
“Gia! Hi—the phone said unknown, but I’m happy I answered. How are you?”
“It’s the business line at the vineyard. I previously called from my personal cell. I just was on the phone with my brother to get the details of your meeting. He told me you’re in Amalfi which happens to be our hometown. I couldn’t let you leave without inviting you to the vineyard. It’s in Campania, but it’s not too far away.”
My heart skipped a beat. “I’d love that. Are you sure it’s not too much trouble?”
“Not at all. I’ll handle all the transportation. Just let me know what day works for you, and we’ll make it happen.”
“How about tomorrow,”
I said, excitement bubbling in my chest. I couldn’t wait to see the vineyard and meet Gia in person. Luckily, tomorrow worked out for us both. These little detours were so exciting—I loved the unexpected twists of travel. Unless it’s canceled or missed flights, I definitely hate those. Those suck! This one though—a day at a vineyard, in Italy. Perfection!
The late afternoon sun was dipping lower, casting a warm, golden hue over the pool. I leaned back in the lounge chair, a glass of something cold and citrusy sweating on the table beside me. My book was open on my lap, though I hadn’t turned the page in ten minutes. My mind kept wandering, stuck somewhere between the glittering water and the evening ahead.
The sliding door opened behind me, and Sophie stepped out. She’s still in her uniform from the hotel, though her hair is loose, tumbling over her shoulders in waves.
“Done for the day?”
I asked, sitting up a little straighter as she approached.
“Finally,”
she sighed, dropping into the chair next to me with the kind of dramatic exhaustion I recognized all too well from my service industry days. “What I wouldn’t give for one of those,” she said, pointing at my drink.
I smirked. “I ordered it less than ten minutes ago and I haven’t touched it. It’s yours.”
She pretended to resist but stuck her arm in my direction with grabby hands, “Thank you—to being off the clock.”
“A most worthy reason to celebrate!” I agreed.
We settles into an easy rhythm, the kind that happens when you meet someone who’s refreshingly real. Sophie talked about her day—guests with too many demands and too little patience—and I told her about my plans for tomorrow. She knew of that vineyard. When we veered into travel, it turned out we have a surprising amount of overlap.
“Wait—you’ve been to Mykonos?”
she said, sitting up suddenly.
“A few years ago. That place is a photographer’s dream. Every corner is picturesque. And the nightlife pace is crazy!”
“Right? And the sunsets—ugh, I’ll never get over them,”
she conceded, her voice full of genuine enthusiasm. “Did you eat at that little place by the windmills? The one with the calamari that was practically life-changing?”
“Yes! I can’t believe you know that spot. I’m still chasing the taste of their tzatziki.”
We both laughed, and the conversation flowed effortlessly from there—like catching up with an old friend rather than someone I met yesterday.
As the sun started to dip lower, painting the sky in fiery pinks and oranges, Sophie leaned back in her chair and asked, “You know, we should go out tonight. There’s this place in town that has live music and cocktails strong enough to make you forget your own name. You wanna?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Are you selling the music or the cocktails?”
“Both,”
she winked. “Come on, it’ll be fun. Unless you already have plans?”
I shook my head, grinning. “Schedule cleared. Let’s do it.”
That night, Sophie showed up at my room at nine, still a bundle of energy and laughs. We spread out every possible outfit I’d packed, debating between breezy dresses and sleek jumpsuits, swapping shoes, and applying makeup like teenagers at a sleepover.
“You’re going with this one,”
Sophie said, holding up a flowy emerald green dress. “It screams ‘effortlessly stunning.’”
“You’re the boss,”
I said, pulling it on. “But only if you wear the silver one. You look like an Amalfi goddess in it.”
“I haven’t had this much fun in a while and we haven’t even gone out yet,”
Sophie admitted.
We burst out laughing, posing dramatically in the mirror before heading out. As we walked, Sophie asked me about boyfriends and why I wasn’t traveling with anyone. I gave her the short version of the story, but told her a mild version of The Luca Experience in Paris. I’m not sure why I just blurted it out, but I wanted to tell someone—it was too exciting not to share. I didn't want to tell Lena all the details over a text and we hadn’t connected for a phone call in a few days. I would see her in a week or so, and she would get every single detail. She would demand them. All of them, no matter how descriptive.
The night was a blur of vibrant music, strong cocktails, and dancing under the stars. Sophie took me to her favorite spots—a lively bar called La Sirena, where the mojitos were dangerously good, and a tucked-away club called Luce Notturna, where locals danced like no one was watching. The music beat in my ears even after we finished dancing. My body felt alive!. Maybe that was partially due to the alcohol, but who knows?!
We didn’t stop until the early hours of the morning, stumbling back to my room, shoes in hand. The air was thick and warm, so we threw open the balcony doors, letting the faint breeze sweep in.
Sophie flopped onto the bed beside me, laughing. “Okay, I have to ask. Will you see this guy from Paris again on your trip? Won’t you see him again at some point if you’re doing business with his vineyard.”
“Luca?”
I said, my words slurring slightly from too much drinking. “He’s… well, he’s local to here. Charming, maddening, gorgeous. He texted me a few times yesterday. It felt a little flirty, but Paris is over. Probably all business moving forward, but who knows,” I laughed at myself.
“What? He was texting you, so he was obviously thinking about you.”
“True. He’s so much fun and I know I’ve mentioned it fifty times already—he’s so pretty. Dreamy. It’s almost disgusting, but it’s not.”
Sophie’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “We should text him. No explanation. Just a selfie of us looking hot as hell.”
I laughed, too tipsy to resist. “You’re ridiculous. Let’s do it!”
“You’re going to thank me later,”
she said, pulling me onto the bed and angling the camera just right. We leaned in close, our hair messy, makeup slightly smudged, but our smiles wide and carefree. This is one of those moments that’s basically a summer anthem.
“Perfect,”
Sophie declared, hitting send before I could think twice.
I groaned, laughing as I buried my face in the pillow. “What did we just do?”
“Made his night, obviously,”
Sophie said, collapsing beside me.
Five minutes later, we were both passed out, the balcony doors still open, the sound of the waves lulling us to sleep.