Chapter 41
Capri
Hayes
Saltwater splashes my face as the private ferry from Napoli to the Isle of Capri cuts through the choppy sapphire water.
I’m standing with one arm around Brady and other is holding the camera in front of us, trying to get the stunning orchards that cling to the rocky cliffs soaring above the coastline into frame.
“Aisha should like that one,” I say to Brady as I lower my arm so I can have both around his waist. I’m even more motivated to earn that bonus now so that Brady can use it to start school and join me in Boston. I squeeze his small body tightly and pull him closer to me.
I’m still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that we woke up this morning in Poland with our bodies entwined and not enough time to have one last round of initiating this new phase of our relationship.
But we did it anyway. I stayed close to him all night, sometimes putting my leg over his or kissing his back softly.
When I woke up, I could feel his dick pressing against my thigh so I rolled toward him and let him know I was feeling the same exact way and pressed into his side.
We almost missed our connection in Rome but thanks to Brady charming a gate agent, who he claims was “family,” we were able to board after the flight closed.
We hit some rougher water so I lead him to one of the benches and sit next to him. “Look at those cliffs and the sun hitting the water. It’s absolutely exquisite. There must be so many beautiful places to swim or hike,” Brady says.
“Hike?” I ask and twist my head in confusion. “You mean hiking between stores while I carry bags, I assume.”
“No, I mean actual hikes, with you.” He turns and puts his hand on my chest then bites his lip.
“Though I will need to buy some better boots for that, so it does mean some shopping.” He smiles up at me.
“I found a ton of beautiful trails in the Hamptons this past year. There’s one through a marshy swamp with beautiful views of the bay. ”
“You, Brady Gibson, have chosen to step in, and I quote, ‘a marshy swamp.’” I can’t hold back a laugh. “What happened to your position on the not-so-great outdoors?”
He moves his body so he’s in front of me and I can wrap my arms around him.
“What can I say? You aren’t the only one who’s changed.
After that night camping in Pennsylvania, I found it wasn’t as bad as I thought.
I walked lot of great nature trails last year.
Mosquitos and humidity remain my mortal enemies, but I like it. ”
He points to a small opening between two rock clusters.
I recognize the magical portal to the Grotta Azzurra where blue water and sunlight create an otherworldly experience.
But I don’t need to visit any tourist attractions or natural wonders to feel like I’m on another planet.
Everything I want to feel I’m feeling right now, watching the scenery go by while holding the world’s greatest guy and thinking about our future together.
Then I remember that for our future to work we need to earn that bonus. I don’t want Brady to have to rely on his family in any way.
“Let me get another one,” I say, and take out the camera. It only took us until our fifth country this summer to get it right. I kiss Brady on his sunburnt nose and grab a shot as my lips make contact.
“I don’t know about that one. My nose looks so red. I forgot to put on sunscreen this morning, you know, because your dick was inside me.” He pokes my ribs with his finger.
“Brady!” I cower down to make sure the captain of the boat can’t hear us. Brady loves to say outrageous things to make me giggle. “Don’t worry about it. I like the way your freckles come out when you forget. It’s freaking adorable.”
He covers his face with his hand. “We aren’t in Poland anymore, so you think you don’t have to tell me the truth,” he teases.
“I am telling the truth, and I plan to here in Italy, in Boston, wherever we’re together.”
We pass a triangular-shaped villa with multiple balconies and soaring white columns covered in purple flowers.
Terraced gardens surround the grounds and a wooden staircase built into the rocks leads all the way down to a dock on the water with a small patch of sand where people are sunbathing and swimming.
“That’s Villa Sulla Costa,” Brady says, sitting down. His voice shakes a bit. “That’s where the Beckenberg wedding is.”
“When does your family arrive?” I ask. During the flight over Brady decided he would tell his mother about his plans as soon as they arrived in Capri. I told him I would be by his side the entire time but he’s definitely nervous about their reaction.
“In a few days, I think,” he says, and a flash of worry crosses his eyes.
“I will be right by your side.”
“I know my parents aren’t your favorite people in the world after they manipulated you in Chicago…”
I don’t let him finish. “That’s over. I’m focused on the future. The future with you, the real Brady Gibson. I love seeing you become more yourself. Knowing what you want to do. And going after it. It’s very sexy.” I nibble his ear and flick the lobe with my tongue.
“Yeah,” he says, his voice cracking with a hint of uncertainty.
“Brady, I know this is going to be hard, but there’s a chance your mom might understand.”
“There is a chance my mother might wear something from Target instead of Dolce and Gabbana. There is a chance that my sister won’t continue her endless feud with one of the Kardashians at the wedding.
There is a chance a dormant volcano will swallow the island this week.
There is no chance my parents will understand. ”
I can’t really make sense of Brady’s relationship with his parents. They love each other but it’s formal and distant. I know Brady thinks I can be that way sometimes and I’m beginning to see the connection. He doesn’t want to be reminded of their coldness. It’s my job to make him feel loved.
I reach over to grab his hand and rub my fingers across the space where his wrist meets his hand.
The grey streets and tan roofs of Poland were a fantasy, but the azure blue water and sunshine of the Amalfi coast are reality and I need to support Brady in his decision.
I’m going to show him I’m not going anywhere.
The boat makes a sharp turn toward the smaller dock for private ferries. I wipe the saltwater off of Brady’s cheek and I can see in his eyes that he’s nervous about what’s going to happen on this small island. “Everything is going to be okay. We’ve got this.”
“Hayes, when you say it, I can actually believe it.”
At the end of the dock, I see a tricked-out emerald and white vintage golf cart with a striped canvas roof that has golden yellow fringe dangling. A figure with swirling black scarves waves at us from the driver’s seat. It’s Aisha.
We disembark and I go first so I can hold out my arm for Brady. He holds it tightly and I point to the puddles on the steps so he doesn’t slip.
“So nice to see you both again,” Aisha says, getting out of the golf cart. I can tell it’s a restored club car. Electric, maybe running off thirty-six volts. “I’m so sorry to hear about your detour in Poland. I hope it wasn’t too inconvenient.”
“Not at all,” Brady says with a big smile across his face, holding on to my shoulder to steady himself.
“It was exactly what we needed,” I say, putting my arm around him.
Aisha removes one of her scarves and takes a step toward us before removing the black sunglasses that cover most of her face.
“Something is different here, eh? This is not the same pair of guys who showed up jetlagged in London.”
“No, I don’t think we are,” Brady says before I can. He stands on his toes to stretch up and kiss me on the nose.
“Well, London is nice, but it’s not Capri.
” Aisha gets in the driver’s seat. I hope she knows what she’s doing.
The steering on these things is loose at best. “Italy is the place for romance. Let’s get you settled.
” We hop in the back seat. She has an easy way with us, smiling, her tone carefree.
Different than that last meeting in London.
She had a job to do, and she didn’t think we were doing ours – which we weren’t.
But now things have course corrected on levels she isn’t even aware of.
We putter along the switchback street up to the hotel past gelaterias with lines of tourists holding cups of creamy treats and tourist shops selling straw sandals and little bottles of pale limoncello.
Behind us, the Tyrrhenian Sea we sailed across is a swathe of endless deep blue. Color and sunshine everywhere.
At the top of hill the hotel’s mid-century marquee, from its days as a cinema, glows faintly in the afternoon light and the original green and yellow tiles shimmer above the entrance.
We had a grand old movie house like this in Alabama.
My dad talked about dates with my mom there.
But it was abandoned and eventually run-down.
Here everything has been polished and restored.
The original sign with elegant letters that spell Cinema Lux glow in soft green neon and rise vertically above the building.
Small light bulbs outline the words and twinkle slowly even in the sunshine.
I can imagine post-war Italians coming here for a little fantasy and magic.
Inside, the details have been creatively repurposed.
The old concession stand is now the check-in desk, with a glass counter displaying antique maps, herb-scented soaps from local farms, and vintage postcards.
I see one of Frank Sinatra with Sammy Davis Jr. on the beach in Napoli and another of Sophia Loren giving side-eye to Jayne Mansfield.
My dad loves that era so I make a note to pick a few up to take home.
The walls of the lobby are lined with movie paraphernalia. A black and white clapboard from a movie called Contempt, film reel spools and even a vintage director’s megaphone that must have been used on the set of silent movies.
“Do you smell that?” Brady asks, his sunburnt nose wiggling to catch the scent.
“Is it popcorn? Maybe it’s soaked into the walls.”
“Sort of,” Aisha says stepping toward us.
“I worked on this hotel’s signature scent myself.
This one is lemon zest, green fig and jasmine with a hint of sea salt and popcorn,” she says with pride in her voice.
It sounds like a bizarre mix but here all the parts fit together beautifully.
“Your luggage is already in your room. I’ve sent you an itinerary and we can regroup tomorrow or whenever.
Take your time.” She straightens her compass necklace and smiles brightly, transforming into someone more carefree.
“This is Capri, after all. It’s too beautiful to rush anything.
” Aisha heads out of the lobby, puts her hand on the door to leave but turns back before she opens it.
She looks at Brady, then at me, then at both of us.
“Yes, there is definitely something different about you both.”