chapter ONE
“How much further to the top?” Leah whines, clenching her roller suitcase. The casters make a thumping sound, banging against each step as she pulls it up the mountain of stairs.
“We could have taken the bus.” My voice is an I-told-you-so singsong, slightly wincing, as I try to tame the ache shooting up my left arm. It’s my less-dominant one and not made for lifting a suitcase vertically up a hill.
We’re both a little snippy from our long day of travel.
It has been an episode of planes, trains, and automobiles to get us here.
Yesterday morning, we woke up in Columbus and boarded a plane to New York, only to transfer to another flight to Dublin.
After a serious layover and a few pints of Guinness, we boarded our third and final flight to Naples, Italy.
With seventeen hours of travel behind us, we were elated to board a hydrofoil to take us to the island of Capri.
We are tired, we want showers, and a glass of Prosecco wouldn’t hurt either.
I raise my gaze to the incredible surroundings. When the boat pulled up to the Grande Marina of Capri, I had to blink to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. The sight so surreal, Schubert’s Ninth Symphony played in my head as a virtual theme song.
Capri is a massive rock, shooting out from the Tyrrhenian Sea.
Rocky caves around the island can be made out as the water crashes at the base.
Up top, a cloud hides the peak of the mountain, making it seem as if heaven is just beyond the fog.
Cascading down the slope is fresh green, hugging the landscape like a blanket.
As you get closer to the island, the definition and vibrant colors of homes and hotels peering up from the greenery becomes clearer.
Shades of gold, red, and orange reflect off the rooftops.
At the foreground, vendors and shops are bustling with activity.
Tourists are buying souvenirs or trying to get a glimpse of Mt.
Vesuvius, while others are walking to the various restaurants that line the marina.
Stepping off the boat, Leah and I had rolled our suitcases along the stone path of the dock and over to where my map said we could hail a taxi or take a bus to our hotel.
Leah being Leah, hell bent on living life to the fullest, decided we should walk to our hotel, taking the narrow stairway paths that cut through the island.
She said it would be “exciting” and would help us “stretch our legs.” She had no idea how many hundreds of stairs we would have to climb.
“Buses are for tourists. We are here to enjoy this magnificent island, and the only way to do it is on foot!” Leah gives a loud huff at the end of her sentence, as she wraps two hands around the lever of her large suitcase and hoists it up.
“Switch bags with me,” I say. My bag is much smaller and easier to maneuver. I pack light. We’re spending a week in the exotic Mediterranean. How many pieces of clothing could you need?
Apparently for Leah, it’s a lot.
I extend my arm, then quickly pull it back, realizing the one I was offering wouldn’t be of any use.
“No, Emma, your hand.” She stops her progression and looks down at me. “You must be having enough trouble lifting your own. I wasn’t thinking. I shouldn’t—”
“It’s fine.” I cut her off, stretching out my right hand, a constant reminder of the worst year of my life and all the dreams that faded in one awful weekend.
A heart-wrenching breakup with the man I thought I was going to marry?
Check.
The devastating loss of a family member that left my soul aching so hard I found it hard to breathe?
Check. Check.
An accident that crushed my desires and everything I’d worked my entire life for, leaving me virtually numb?
Triple check.
Yes, it has been the worst year of my life and we’re only halfway through it.
I’ve been so anesthetized and empty, that my family pushed their own grieving aside to make sure I’m okay.
All they want to do is talk, when it’s the last thing I need.
That, and have them worry about me. They worry too much.
I shake off the thought and brush away Leah’s concerns. “It’s fine. I’m using my left hand. Keep going. This should be the last set of stairs.”
With a nod, Leah continues up, me following, until we reach a road. Sure enough, our hotel is just to the left. I have never been more excited to see a hotel in my life.
I love vacations, don’t get me wrong. But for the amount of travel and manual labor it just took to get us here, this better be the best vacation of my life. At least I hope it is. Leah gave up a lot for us to experience this together.
We enter the sliding glass doors of the Villa Marina Capri, and a lovely receptionist who speaks perfect English greets us. She takes our passports to make copies, as per Italian custom, and when she returns them, she escorts us to an outdoor waiting area while our room is readied.
I’m a bit unsure about leaving my bag. Ever since my luggage was stolen on a college trip to Cancún, I refuse to let other people handle my belongings.
After Leah assures me this five-star resort is a far cry from that rum-soaked Mexican hotel, I concede, but only after making sure my purse, along with my money and valuables, is with me.
Leah just laughs at my one OCD trait and heads outside with me.
“Oh my God.” The words escape my mouth.
“Oh my God is right.” Leah repeats, sliding her sunglasses up her perfect button nose.
The two of us stand in awe, gawking over the sight before us. If I thought the view coming into port was phenomenal, I was mistaken. This is the most incredible view I have ever seen in my life.
Standing about a third up the mountain, the island below us, and the sea beyond it, is the true answer of why God created the earth. So we can marvel at its beauty.
The afternoon sun is shining bright. The sky is a perfect shade of blue with a few stray clouds. The whiteness of them only illuminates the color of the sky. The rooftops below are a gorgeous copper hue and the sea is all but breathtaking.
With a slight breeze in the air, Leah’s hair blows away from her cheek. Looking over at her, I see a look of melancholy on her face. A look so un-Leah, it makes my stomach drop.
“I knew this was a bad idea. I shouldn’t be here. Adam . . .” The words choke in my throat.
“Adam is the most amazing man in the world.” She finishes my sentence.
It’s not what I was going to say, but she’s right.
Leah’s fiancé, Adam Reingold, is by far the most caring, understanding, and perfect man in the world.
He is the kind of guy you want your sister to marry.
It’s exactly why I feel awful being the one standing here with her and not him.
Leah gives me this knowing look that she’s been giving me a lot lately, followed by a hug.
“Stop it. We’re here and this is happening. This week is about you and me. We are going to have the most spectacular vacation of our lives, and I don’t want you feeling bad for one second. You hear me?” She holds me tighter and I return her embrace.
Sometimes it’s hard to accept she’s the little sister.
Not that she’s younger by a lot. Hell, we’re born in the same year, she arriving the day before New Years Eve.
Irish twins. Most days she’s the wacky, wild sister who dances on bars and runs into oncoming traffic to get across the street.
She never returns things she borrows and loves to sing karaoke, even when the establishment doesn’t have karaoke. It can get quite embarrassing.
Back in Cedar Ridge, Leah owns a bar called McConaughey’s.
Yes, it’s named after the famed actor and has Matthew McConaughey paraphernalia all around.
There’s no good explanation for why the bar exists, other than the fact she is a die-hard fan, and the cliental love to get drunk and chant, “Alright, alright, alright.”
Leah is usually the crazy one getting the crowd riled up.
Yet there are times like this—like this entire year—when she shows more maturity and composure than you would expect from the wild child with the platinum blonde bob and sheared jeans. This year had to be hard on her as well, yet she gave up so much for me, for our family.
Pulling back from her, I let out a large sigh and am relieved to see a waiter approach us with a platter of prosciutto and a bottle of Prosecco, compliments of the hotel. We clink glasses and salute the start of our sisters sabbatical.
“Do you know how much sex can be had in a tub like this?”
Leah is sitting, fully clothed in the empty bathtub in our hotel suite. The large porcelain tub is yet another reminder of the honeymoon this was supposed to be.
“Too bad it will be sexless for the next week.” I say, putting my clothes away in the large wardrobe that sits opposite the massive king-size bed.
“Just because I won’t be getting foamed up in here doesn’t mean you can’t.” She wiggles her eyebrows.
“No.” I shoot her an evil glare.
“What happens in Italy, stays in Italy.” Leah sings, resting her head on the back of the tub and kicking up her feet.
I let out a laugh knowing that is not true.
My sister has the biggest mouth in Cedar Ridge.
The fact she is marrying a cop means Leah not only knows everyone’s business from the bar, but she also gets the lowdown on every speeding ticket and arrest in town.
If I hook up with a random Italian on vacation, every soul within a ten-mile radius will know, and I don’t need my dad hearing about my rendezvous.
My poor dad. He still has a hard time believing I’m twenty-five-years-old.
“I didn’t travel five thousand miles for a random hookup.” Placing my sundresses delicately on each hanger, I look over at Leah’s suitcase, open on the sofa, in the seating area by the door. I’m sure that’s exactly where it will stay.