Chapter Seventeen
Seventeen
Quint parked the car and I stared out at the stunning view from the top of the hill.
A long strip of sandy beach snaked a trail, hugging the blue waters of the Mediterranean, then morphed into a giant cliff of blinding white rock. As I blinked, I noticed there were striations carved into the sandstone that made it look like steps rising to the top. Blue swirls in the sandstone reflected the stinging blue of water and sky, all merging into a dazzling vision. I turned to him, jaw unhinged.
“This is not like the Jersey shore.”
He smiled. “What is that like?”
I gave a snort. “It used to be paradise, but now I’m ruined. This is stunning. What is this beach called again?”
“Scala dei Turchi. Many tourists flock here. I knew you’d enjoy.”
“ Grazie. I’m so happy.”
His grin was as dazzling as the view, a flash of white teeth against his sexy dark beard and full lips. “You may not be once you see the hike.”
“Don’t you remember? I’m not afraid of exercise.”
“Ah, sì . At least it is not a mountain of bread. Or red balloons.”
I laughed long and hard. “Or a mountain of spiders.”
He laughed with me and tugged my hand forward. “Come.”
We started down a long, twisty staircase, making our way to the beach. There was a small building with drinks and snacks for sale, and we greeted a few people as we passed them on the way down. When my feet hit the powdery sand, I immediately flung off my sandals, tugging Quint forward in my hunger to feel the water.
We dropped our towels and bag, then stripped down to our bathing suits. One glance at his tight black briefs had me momentarily speechless. Lord, he was like an Italian god. All toasty brown skin and carved pecs with tight abs. I had a moment of shyness in my red tankini, but I caught the light of appreciation in his eyes and shrugged off my modesty. I was tired of worrying about my body and how Jason judged my diet and fitness routine. Funny, I weighed more now but had felt more myself in the past few weeks than I had in years. I refused to backtrack.
The water was cool against my heated skin and crystal clear, easily showing the path forward amid the various rocks. Throwing my arms out, I tipped my head back and smiled up at the beaming sun. The beauty of the natural elements surrounding me sank into my core, bringing a buzz of energy. I breathed deep, smelling salt and earth and sunscreen.
When I glanced to my side, I froze at Quint’s look. “What?”
He shook his head. Emotion flickered over his face, along with a touch of longing. He said something in Italian I tried to decipher. “ Grazie? ”
His bottom lip quirked. “ Prego. ”
I blinked. “Wait—what did you say?”
Heat surged between us. I was glad I was in the water to cool off. “Maybe I will tell you later.”
I didn’t push. Instead, I splashed him, then he rewarded me with a masculine roar, and we played in the surf like children.
I didn’t even care about ruining my hair.
After our swim, we donned our cover-ups and began the trek across the beach. “How is it going with your babba ?” he asked. “I know it has been difficult. I’m sure it meant a great deal to him that you stayed.”
“I don’t feel like he hates me anymore. It’s strange sharing stories about my mom. He knows her only as a child, and I know her as an adult. It’s like we’re trying to fill in all the blanks for both of us.”
“I feel that with Carmella sometimes. She is eight years younger and does not remember my mother as well. I have trouble explaining how good she was. How her hugs made me feel like I was safe. How she pushed me to do things that scared me, and when I did, whether I failed or not, she smiled so big I knew I’d made her proud.” His sigh was full of wishes. “She smelled of baked bread and wildflowers from the garden. And when she lost her temper she dropped terrible Sicilian curse words, but if I repeated them, she’d smack me.”
I smiled at the vivid picture in my mind. “You describe her so well. It’s not fair that Carmella didn’t have more time, but she has you. You can be her memory.”
“I like that thought,” he murmured. “Like you and your grandfather.”
We reached the bottom of the massive carved sandstone and began the climb. People stopped at various levels to take pictures, slipping sometimes on the stone and laughing with their group. “How did it get like this?” I asked.
“It’s built-up minerals, mostly shells. Centuries of water and wind wore the rocks down to a smooth surface. It is called the Turkish Steps. You can also find many hidden belvederes to explore and sneak off to. I will show you my favorite, where it is best to take pictures.”
My sandal slid and I fumbled for balance. He grabbed me, tucking me against him, his bare thigh brushing mine. “Careful, dusci .”
“What is that term? I haven’t heard it before.”
He glanced away. I noticed a red stain on his cheek. “Ah, ‘sweetheart.’ Mi dispiace , it just came out.”
I touched his arm gently. “No, I like it.”
This time, he met my gaze and nodded, pleasure gleaming in his golden-brown eyes. “ Bene. Me, too.”
We resumed our climb until the spill of rock sloped beneath us. Some people were trying to walk to the summit, a high angle that looked dangerous. The lifeguard’s calls and sharp whistle warned them to get down, and Quint shook his head.
“Silly tourists. They will do anything for a picture.”
I grinned. “Me, too. Shall we take a selfie?”
“ Sì. ”
I took my phone out and we put our heads together, smiling giddily into the camera. Then I snapped a couple of different shots to capture the idyllic beauty of nature in the wild. It made me feel both giant to be poised so high and tiny as a small part of the universe and its many moving parts. Right now, all the things that used to worry me dissolved like sand spilling through open fingers. This was important. These moments of clarity and quiet shared with people who mattered.
A walk in the olive groves with my grandfather. Making pizza with my cousins. Sharing a meal with my family.
I had a primal urge to pick up a pen and write down all the thoughts and feelings spilling from within and overflowing. Later, I would sift through today and try to piece together the images and emotions with words.
“Let me show you my spot.”
We made our way back down, and then, by the entrance to the steps, he led me through a hidden space that overlooked the opposite side. I caught my breath at the panoramic view. Sunlight bathed the white sandstone, surrounded by every shade of blue, from turquoise and azure to cobalt, setting off the pebbly beach and rocky outcroppings kissing the coast.
We stood together, shoulders touching, lost in the moment. “No wonder you never want to leave Sicily,” I murmured.
“What does your place look like?”
“It’s beautiful in a different way. I’m not around any beaches but surrounded by mountains. It’s a small town with shops and cafés near the Hudson River. Most people own a dog and eat vegan or vegetarian. Many commute to Manhattan for jobs. I love it, but we run at a fast pace. New Yorkers are proud of the ability to push hard and push often. We like money and achievement, and even creativity needs to fit into a certain niche to make a profit.”
He cocked his head. “You have always lived there?”
“My parents lived farther south, closer to the city in Westchester. I wanted to be a bit more rural, so I ended up in Cold Spring. But, yes, we’ve always been in New York.”
“I believe we all end up in the places meant for us. Later, we get to choose in order to fill in the missing pieces.”
I loved the way his statements held profound thought and deeper meaning, making a casual conversation so much richer. “What do you think you learned from Sciacca?”
Quint stroked his beard. My fingers tingled to see if it felt silky against them. My lips. I’d never kissed someone with a beard, and now I couldn’t stop fantasizing. “Hmm, I believe I have learned that not much is needed for happiness. Family. Friends. A beautiful view. A meal made with intention.” Transfixed, he slowly turned to gaze at me, pulling me into his green-gold eyes and holding me there with intensity. “And love. Sicily has taught me about love.”
Time stilled as seconds ticked by and we didn’t break our eye contact.
“What did you learn, Aurora?”
His voice was deep and gravelly, stroking my ears like a caress. I breathed in his scent and offered my own truth. “New York taught me to dream big. To work hard. To believe in myself. Most of all, it taught me grit and the power of moving forward.”
His smile lit me up from the inside. “A worthy gift.”
“Yes. But what you said about the missing pieces? I think I’ve filled them in Sicily.”
He reached out and I stepped forward into his arms.
A clatter broke the quiet, and we turned to see a young mother with two children burst into our space. She caught sight of us and chattered brightly in Italian. Quint moved toward her, conversing easily, kneeling down to talk to the two boys, who seemed to brim with energy and excitement. I watched the interaction, enjoying the way he acted with the children and his gentleness.
And I wondered what would have happened if we hadn’t been interrupted.
We finished up at the beach and headed home.
“Do you have plans for tonight?” he asked.
My heart beat faster. “No.”
“Carmella is home from school and asked to meet you. Would you like to come to my home for dinner?”
My grin was so wide it hurt my cheeks. His sister wanted to meet me. Which meant he’d mentioned me enough to make her curious. “I’d love that.”
Quint nodded. “I will drop you off so you can change and nap. Then pick you up later.”
“ Grazie. I’m looking forward to it.”
I noticed he was smiling, too.
—
Quint’s place reminded me a bit of my grandparents’. It was a tall town house–like structure in burnt umber, with a wrought-iron balcony. Brightly colored bougainvillea spilled over the railings along with pots of fresh herbs. The arched door was a heavily carved wood, and when I stepped inside, I was struck by the warm Tuscan colors and delicious smells scenting the air. “ Sei molto bella ,” Quint murmured, leaning down to kiss my cheek in greeting.
My breath caught at the gesture and compliment. “ Grazie. ” Catena had called, and when I told her I was going to Quint’s, she said she could drop me off since he lived close to the pub. I’d dressed simply, in white shorts and a matching lace top. I’d twisted my hair up and paired the look with fun accessories, from dangly earrings and stacked bangle bracelets to my delicate gold daisy anklet. My necklace was a beaded evil eye I’d purchased from one of the shops in town. I’d spritzed myself with a floral perfume—another indulgence from a local vendor. Quint was also dressed casually in jeans, a pink T-shirt, and sneakers. He looked freshly showered, and his hair curled around his neck, slightly damp. “Oh, I brought wine.”
“ Grazie , come to the kitchen.” He led me through the house, which was small but cozy. There was just enough clutter to make it homey, with photos, colorful mosaics, and books sprinkled around. His laptop and workspace were set up in the corner. The furniture was dark wood, but the couch and chairs were a deep blue with pale lemon cushions.
I smiled as I stepped into the kitchen, obviously his favorite place. “Oh, I love it,” I breathed out, walking over to the butcher-block island and updated appliances. It was a great mix of traditional and modern, and I could tell Quint liked his machines. There were espresso makers, juicers, mixers, and an impressive variety of pots and pans. Ceramic bowls were filled with lemons, blood oranges, loaves of bread, and bunches of garlic.
Quint opened the wine and poured three glasses. “Carmella should be down any minute—she changed her outfit three times.”
I blinked. “Why? It’s just me.”
He grinned and pushed the glass toward me. “You’re a bit of a celebrity. She got a hold of your social media stuff and watched all the videos. I think you have an admirer.”
I bit my lip, hesitant. I was flattered, but I had nothing to offer in that vein lately. All of my current stuff was focused on Sicily and I’d stopped most of the motivational videos. “That’s so sweet, but she certainly doesn’t have to impress me.”
“You’re right. Being related to me should be enough.”
I rolled my eyes, incurring a laugh, and then a young woman rushed through the door and stopped before me. “Aurora? I am Carmella—it’s so nice to meet you,” she said in perfect English. “My brother has told me so much, and I can’t wait to hear everything!”
I laughed at her warmth and enthusiasm, which reminded me of my cousins. Her features resembled her brother’s—the same defined nose, sharp cheekbones, and generous mouth. She was tall and willowy, with gorgeous olive skin. Her eyes were darker than Quint’s, a rich chocolate brown, and held a clear-eyed intelligence. But that was where the resemblance ended.
Her wavy hair was a bold mixture of golds and red. A diamond winked from her nose. Long black-tipped nails gave off a vampy vibe. She wore a short bloodred dress that accented her figure but wasn’t classically tight. Seemed Quint’s sister liked pushing the edge of style, and I immediately related. It must be difficult without her mom, but I bet Quint worked hard to fill both roles.
“No, the pleasure is mine. I’ve heard so much about you. I’m honored to be here. And I love your outfit! Red is your color.”
Carmella beamed and my heart melted a bit. “ Grazie. I can take you to the shop in town—Ava makes the most beautiful dresses and they are affordable. I will tell you what places to avoid—they are tourist traps. They double their price if you speak English. It is bad.”
Quint poured another glass of wine and shook his head. “Carmella, that’s not nice. Who are you talking about?”
She wrinkled her nose and the diamond winked. “Georgina, that hag. She told me when she sees a bunch of tourists, she doubles everything, then brags about it.”
“Isn’t that Jordan’s mom? The girl who dated one of your ex-boyfriends?”
Carmella glowered. “ Sì. She is like her mamma —not to be trusted. Lei è una faccia di culo. ”
I couldn’t help my excitement. “I know that curse word! It means assface, right?”
Carmella winced and Quint sighed. “Very good. I’m teaching Aurora Italian, Carmella. Thanks for helping her with the bad slang.”
“ Prego! ”
I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing. Quint pointed to the bottle. “Do you want wine? Aurora brought it.”
“Sure!” She took the glass and slid into the chair while her brother began putting food on a plate. “I cannot believe you came to Sicily to meet your family. I am so sorry about your mamma . When I lost mine, I was sad for a long time.”
“Thank you. It’s been hard, but I think you had it worse. You were so young.” Carmella nodded. I caught the flash of pain on her face and realized grief wasn’t a passing thing that eventually left for good. I’d always feel the sting, but I sensed it would be in varying degrees. “Discovering all these new relatives has been a gift. I have no one back home.”
Carmella gasped. “None? No aunts or uncles? Cousins?”
I shook my head. “I was an only child. But not anymore.”
“I cannot imagine having no one. Of course, sometimes I wished my brother would go away for a little while.”
“Sure. And you were always a joy to live with,” Quint retorted.
Carmella laughed, loud and full like her brother. “Please tell me all about New York. I love your videos so much—they inspire me. You have so many followers and you are beautiful and famous. How did you do it?”
I shifted in my seat, already uncomfortable. “That’s so nice of you to say, but honestly? I’m going through an identity crisis at the moment.”
“What is this?”
“It means I think I may want to do something else. After I lost my mom, I fell apart. But I think in some weird way, it was a good thing, because I realized I wasn’t really happy. While I’m here in Sicily, I thought the time might help me figure it out. See what I’d really like to do with my life.”
Carmella studied me with the same intensity as Quint. And though she was young, and in her own world right now, I felt completely seen and understood. “Are you scared you may lose what you have?”
I smiled. “I think I’m more scared of not trying to be truly happy. Have you felt that way?”
She nodded. “ Sì. I wanted to work in fashion and go to Milano, but Quint convinced me to go to school first.”
Quint laid down a platter full of sandwiches with grilled eggplant, along with a salad and chickpea fritters that I was becoming addicted to. “Carmella was not happy with me for a while.”
His sister grinned cheekily. “I hated him. Called him very bad names.”
“But I was right.”
“ Sì. This time.”
Quint sat down at the table with us. “Now she is going to be a teacher. She is very smart with languages and loves children.”
“Only the well-behaved ones.” We laughed. “I will be the most fashionable Italian teacher ever.”
Quint sighed. “Maybe you take out the nose piercing?”
“Maybe not.”
I grinned at their easy banter. We said grace and began to eat. I’d learned dinner was a lighter meal than lunch, and I found myself embracing the change. Indulging early left more time to digest and exercise and I was beginning to adjust. The sandwiches were drizzled with oil, full of fresh vegetables and creamy cheese. The fritters were crispy on the outside and tender on the inside. Carmella chatted about school and about her dream to meet the right boy and fall in love after she started her career. I realized the younger women in Sicily were like Americans—they wanted it all. We truly were all connected with the same dreams of love, family, and fulfilling work. We just went about getting there in different ways.
Afterward, we nibbled on almond cake, drank coffee, and helped Quint clean up. Seeing him in the role of protector and parent made me fall even harder. Carmella obviously adored him, and though it seemed they’d had some bumps along the way, they both loved and respected each other. It took a good man to give up his own needs for someone else quietly, allowing Carmella the dignity of carrying no guilt. Too many people I knew needed praise and pats on the back when they made a sacrifice.
Not Quint.
Finally, I said goodbye to Carmella, and Quint drove me home. We were quiet for a while, the hum of energy between us occupying my thoughts. Meeting his sister had tightened the bond between us.
At least, from my view.
Except Quint hadn’t made a move today. Maybe he was being careful since I’d just broken up with Jason. I sensed he wanted more than friendship, but I was also used to American men who played games. My past relationships had not been stellar, mostly because of my focus on work and my inability to commit fully.
Now things felt different.
Tamping down my spiraling thoughts, I spoke. “I loved your sister. Watching you together made me happy.”
I caught the flash of white teeth in the shadowed car. “She loved you. I respected the way you talked to her. Being open about figuring things out. I think it was important for her to know even the people she admires are always growing.”
“I never wanted to admit it before. Someone once said the moment you admit you know nothing, wisdom truly begins.”
“That must have been me.”
I laughed. “Definitely you.”
When he got close to the marina, he parked and cut the engine. “Would you like to walk a bit?”
My voice came out in a squeak. “Sure.”
I was over thirty years old, and my palms were sweaty when he came around to open my car door. Nerves jumped in my belly with every step we climbed, standing close, our fingers occasionally brushing. The ocean was quiet at this hour, with the occasional echo of chatter drifting in the wind. We reached the top and stood by the rail, looking at the spill of boats and lights, of stars and moonlight, of dark sky and crescent moon.
“Are you looking forward to the wedding?” he asked.
“I can’t wait. I’m going dress shopping tomorrow with Catena and Teresa. Then eating with my grandparents.”
“I was also invited to your grandparents’ house.”
I tilted my head and stared at him. “You were?”
“I go there often, sometimes with Carmella. I’ve stayed away because I thought it was important you have time alone with your family. But I think it is okay to join you tomorrow, no?”
“Yes! Sì! I’d…love that.”
My cheeks grew hot as I stumbled over my words. A few strands from my topknot escaped and whipped across my lips. He reached out, carefully tucking them behind my ear, leaning closer.
My breath seized as I waited for his next move.
“Have you been practicing your Italian?”
I blinked. His rumbly voice was seductive, and I had to focus hard on the question. “My Italian? Um, yes. When I can. I did catch your sister’s curse word and am proud of that.”
“You are my star pupil.” I felt like drowning in his eyes—the swirl of rich green and whiskey brown. “I should quiz you on a few terms, though.”
I frowned. “Now?”
“Tell me if you know this one. La notte è bellissima. ”
“The night is beautiful!”
He smiled and my gaze dropped to his mouth. “ Molto bene. How about this? Grazie per essere venuta a cena. ”
I concentrated really hard to figure it out, but the view of his gorgeous face was distracting as hell. “Um, thank you for something dinner?”
“Thank you for coming to dinner.”
“I was super close.”
“Last one. Voglio baciarti. ”
His breath rushed over my mouth as he whispered the words, and I shivered. “I have no idea.”
Slowly, his hands reached out to cup my cheeks. His forehead pressed against mine, nose close, mouth an inch away. Everything inside and outside stilled.
“It means I want to kiss you, Aurora.”
My entire soul sighed with longing. “ Sì, per favore. ”
His mouth took mine, sweetly, gently, sipping at my lips like a precious drink of water in the hot desert sun. I bloomed under the leisurely slide of his lips, the silkiness of his beard against my skin, the press of his body against mine. Leaning in, I slid my hands up and around his shoulders and let go of any thoughts.
He kissed me for a long time under the moonlight. The taste of him made me dizzy, so I clung tighter and he held me like a gift he refused to let go of.
When he pulled back and gazed into my eyes, I knew everything had changed.
At least for me.
“Did you love him?” he asked, a tiny crease between his brows.
I didn’t have to pause or think. I answered from my heart. “No. I know that now.”
The frown disappeared. I reached out and stroked his beard. “I’ve been wondering how it would feel if you kissed me.”
A grin lightened his face. “Am I keeping it or shaving?”
My voice felt thick in my throat. “Definitely keep.”
He lifted my hand and pressed a kiss into my palm. “Come.”
I followed him to my door, hesitating. Did I invite him in? Was it too soon? How had it been only a few weeks, yet I felt as if I’d known him forever? It was as if just his presence filled a part of me I didn’t realize was empty. Was this what my mother had experienced with my father? Or was it just part of my journey here, leading me back home to where I could make a new start?
The questions whirled in my head, but I had no time to sort through any answers.
“ Buona notte, bella. ”
His voice was achingly gentle, but his eyes burned like fire, confirming he wanted more, but not tonight. I watched him go and then let myself inside to slump against the door.
Oh Lord, this was getting complicated.
But it was too late.
I already needed to find out what happened next.