12. CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER TWELVE
Sunlight burned the backs of my eyelids. I indulged in its warmth, caught in the last glorious moments between sleep and waking. Finally, my whole body stretched the length of the bed, a few joints popping, relieving any remaining tension. I smiled, eyes pressed shut.
I hadn’t woken once all night and beamed at the realization. It meant I would be raring to start this new leg of the journey bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. I opened my eyes as I sat up, throwing back the sheets, and froze.
It was morning. As in sun-filled, birds chirping, people already going about their day kind of morning.
No!
I lunged for my phone. My heart stuttered at the time. I was late. Over an hour late. I scrambled out of bed, stubbing my toe violently on the coffee table leg. Cursing, I wrangled on a T-shirt and shorts at random. I was running a comb through my hair while simultaneously attempting to brush my teeth when a knock stopped me from flying about the room.
“Coming!” I garbled around the toothbrush. I hopped a path through my discarded clothes, slid the dead bolt, and opened the door.
“Sorry, sorry,” I rambled. “I overslept. Or my alarm didn’t go off. Or—I don’t know.”
I went mute as I watched Emil’s expression shift in quick succession. Anger and worry gave way to relief, which settled into intense focus, probably because I was babbling at the rate of a high-speed train. But, even then, what lingered in his eyes was caution, of all things.
“Are you okay?” I asked when my brain and mouth restored their connection.
“Yes.” His hard gaze searched behind me, and I mirrored him, wincing at the disaster zone I’d left in my wake.
“I really am sorry.” I stood to the side, offering him entry, while still taking the temperature of his mood. “I’ll finish getting ready as fast as I can, then we can go.”
At last, he relaxed a fraction. With a tight nod, he entered. I kicked stuff out of the way.
“Help yourself to anything,” I volunteered over my shoulder. “There’s a kettle for tea or coffee and…well, that’s it.” I grimaced as I gripped the bathroom doorframe.
“It’s fine, Mallory,” he said, his voice quiet. “I’ll be here when you are done.”
I shut myself in, sucking in a breath before going to the sink to rinse. Toothpaste rimmed my mouth, making me look like a kid who was still working on their technique.
Cute. Really cute, Mallory.
My reflection rolled her eyes at me as I dutifully went about making myself as presentable as possible within a five-minute deadline. When I emerged, Emil was carefully folding my scattered clothes. My stomach flipped.
“Oh god, please don’t,” I moaned.
His hands continued to work. “I don’t mind helping.”
Internally, I prayed he hadn’t found any discarded underwear. I did a thorough search for anything left behind. When I was sure I had everything except for a few stray bathroom items, Emil patted an impeccably neat pile of clothes.
“Are you good?” he asked.
“Yes,” I answered. “Thank you for your help. I’ll grab the last of it.”
“Sure.” He scratched absently at his chin. “I’ll move the car and meet you at the bus station lot. What can I take down for you?”
“Nothing. It’ll all fit in Bertha.”
“Bertha?”
The heat in my face raised to third-degree flames. I pointed halfheartedly to my pack beside him.
He lifted an eyebrow at it, but made no comment. “Okay, see you down there.” He hesitated for a moment at the door before he walked out, closing it behind him.
I could practically feel my blood pressure drop when I was alone again. A few deep breaths steadied me. Then I focused on the task at hand. One thing at a time, one step at a time.
I left a heartfelt thank-you note to Ivan on the table, along with a tip. With a pang of sadness, I dropped the key into the lockbox, wishing I could have said goodbye to him in person. My shoes pattered down the familiar path, and I hesitated when I reached the street. I couldn’t help taking a final look at the bridge while I was here. I hurried to it, closing my eyes a few times to be certain I had it picture-perfect in my memory. With a sigh, I turned on my heel and retraced my way to the station.
Emil’s car sat idling, but he stood at the open rear hatch. He wasn’t alone.
Mia.
My steps faltered, watching as he took what appeared to be an intense tongue-lashing from his irate sister. She pointed at the car before shoving the same finger into his chest, then gestured toward town. A few of her words reached me through the gentle breeze, but it didn’t matter that they were foreign. Her hands snatched at thin air, emphasizing whatever point she was making quite clearly, even from a distance. Anger and fear melded as one within me. What the hell was her problem with me? And would she make him reconsider?
As she grew still, Emil’s arms crossed. His eyebrows rose in a challenge, his words too soft to hear. She shook her head. Not in defeat, but in disbelief. She turned on her heel without another word as she stomped off—of course, straight toward me.
Our eyes met, and the fury in hers was alarming. I wondered if I was in for it next, but her quick stride brought her right beside me, and she simply kept on going. She muttered something unintelligible, but her tone said everything. Annoyance flashed through me, but I quickly bit back the retorts on the tip of my tongue. Lashing out wouldn’t help, and she was leaving, so whatever Emil had said to her, it was done, for now.
I drew in a shallow breath, studying the pattern of cobblestones beneath my feet, until I found the courage to look up. He watched me carefully. Even still, the tightness around his eyes released a little when I offered a small smile.
“Hey,” he said, shifting a few things in the trunk to make space.
“Hi.” I stuffed Bertha in. “Sorry again for the late start.” I shifted uncomfortably.
“Don’t worry about it.” His hand waved dismissively, but he didn’t quite meet my gaze.
Elephant meet room.
“Is everything okay?” I asked. “You know…with her?”
He busied himself with organizing the already sorted luggage situation. “Mia is overprotective sometimes. She means well.”
“Does she think I’m kidnapping you?” I said with a laugh, trying to lighten the mood.
He lifted a shoulder. “Something like that.”
“Didn’t she notice we’re taking your car?”
He nodded, but didn’t elaborate. “Ready?”
Drop it, Mallory , the voice in my head insisted.
“I suppose.” Longing moaned in those two words. He looked at me curiously, and I smiled. “I really like it here. It’s sad to say goodbye. ”
His stoic mask wavered slightly. He followed my gaze, staring back at the now-bustling town. It was just another average day for everyone else.
“Yeah.” Emil turned away and headed to the driver’s side. I held on to the view a moment longer before joining him in the car.
Our road was familiar at first, swerving down the same route we had already taken to the Kravica Nature Park. But soon enough, we passed the turn and found ourselves in new territory.
“Which way are we going?” I had the detailed country map he kept in his car spread across my lap, tracing the tiny lines with my finger.
“I thought we’d head toward Split, then take the coast up along northern Croatia and through Slovenia. From there, Venice is not too far.”
I nodded. “Last night I checked my reservation, and it said the desk would be open until 11:00 p.m., so we’ve got the day to do whatever we want.” I folded the map with satisfaction. My job was done. Emil seemed to know the way. Now I could simply go along for the ride. A deep breath filled my chest. I let it out with a content grin.
The car cut through the sharp mountains, their jagged peaks gradually filed down to rolling hills covered in scrub brush. Knee-high brown grasses billowed in a delicate dance, courtesy of the nearing sea breeze. When the edges of the Adriatic finally swam into view, it was somehow more perfect than the filtered photographs in a magazine spread. Twinkling hues of emerald and sapphire melted into taupe as the ocean gave way to sandy beaches combined into nature’s artist palette.
“Wow,” I breathed.
“Wow,” Emil agreed.
The coastal town of Split glimmered as our first official destination together. At this point, we had been driving for two hours and were both grateful for an excuse to stretch our legs and explore.
We parked near the Riva promenade and wandered away from the sea. Beautifully polished stone streets and buildings surrounded us. The flow of the crowd led to a market pitched beneath wide-brimmed trees. Emil pointed out fruits and fish, which were specialties of the Mediterranean coastal region. We sampled a few items, including honey-sweet figs and mouthwatering plums, buying some to take with us in the car for snacks.
From there, we roamed the streets of the old town, stopping first within the towering remains of the Peristyle of Diocletian's Palace. It wasn’t hard to picture it in its heyday. People still gathered in the square, much like I assumed they’d done for hundreds of years. Even with the modern clothes and cell phones, the well-preserved ruins catapulted us right into the heart of the city’s long history.
Eventually we moved on, braving the harsh sunlight after the shade, following the wide streets into the belly of underground cellars running beneath the old town. Merchant stalls filled the space as we escaped into the cool reprieve of the subterranean market. Many shops showcased jewelry, trinkets, clothing, and artwork, but the vast caverns stretched far beyond the spots of light flooding the entrance.
I perused a stand selling delicate mesh pouches filled with dried flowers and herbs, the variety of scents tantalizing. The woman behind the counter approached after a few moments, pointing out her favorites.
“And this?” I said, picking up one to read the handwritten label: lavender.
“This comes from the island of Hvar,” she explained. “They are well known for it.”
I weighed the petite bag in my hand. Easily transportable and, a bonus, would make Bertha smell amazing. “I’ll take it,” I said, handing it over to her with a smile.
“Good choice,” she complimented as she rang me up.
Emil had wandered into a different section on my left, which held antiques and other more “manly” souvenirs. When he found me again, it was with my nose practically pressed against the glass display in a jewelry shop. In one case, repurposed spoons and forks were twisted into elegant bracelets and rings, some inlaid with colorful resin or sporting leather bands. The cabinet in front of me showcased handcrafted jewelry straight from a storybook, delicate and light, glittering with rough-cut gemstones.
“I see you’ve done well,” he joked as he eyed my gift bag.
“It’s small!” I countered with a laugh. I looked at his hands, but they were empty. “Nothing catch your eye?”
It took a second before he looked away from my face and into the glowing display case. “Which one do you like?”
My nose wrinkled. I didn’t need anything else, though the prices were more than reasonable. “They’re all pretty, but I’m just looking to look.”
The salesperson’s shoulders slumped.
Emil leaned over the glass countertop. “That one?”
How had he guessed?
It was a silver necklace, the twisted metal forming the pendant as thin as twine. It looped around the chain into a dewdrop shape, and, at its center, tiny crystal gems surrounded a dainty pearl.
I shrugged. “Maybe.”
The merchant stood straight again.
“But I already got something,” I insisted. “I don’t want to buy too much. We still have a ways to go.” I spun on the spot, moving toward a tunnel I hadn’t ventured down yet.
Emil followed me, but he kept fidgeting as I moved from a stall with purses, then to another with sun hats. As I sifted through an array of beautiful scarves, I glanced up, hidden behind my eyelashes. His eyes were locked on a wicker basket in a blank stare, clearly bored.
“Go ahead and look around,” I urged him.
He jumped a little before he looked at me, his face sheepish. “Are you sure?”
“We can’t get too lost. If I can’t find you, we can meet at the stairs.”
“All right.”
When we reconvened at the sun-drenched staircase, his hands were once again empty.
“Still no luck?” I asked.
“Not today.”
We ascended to the street level, the brightness blinding after the dark labyrinth, but it was the late afternoon heat that pulled us to a stop. Behind me, Emil’s stomach grumbled. I smirked, and he ducked his head in embarrassment.
“Should we find food?” I suggested.
“Probably a good idea.”
Full-fledged restaurants lining the streets bursted with tourists, so we wandered farther outside the town center. Eventually, Emil spotted a takeout window selling cevap?i?i, which it turned out were mouthwatering sausages tucked into a warm, soft pita. Served with it was a roasted red pepper sauce, which added a bright zing to the rich meat.
With our hunger satiated, the heat was now our immediate adversary.
“Want to head to the harbor?” Emil’s body shifted before I answered, but I followed eagerly.
I swiped my hand across my forehead. It wasn’t just the heat. The humidity was stifling.
I jerked my chin at the sea. “I want to dunk into that and not get out until nightfall,” I quipped with a laugh.
The ocean dazzled beneath the sun slipping lazily toward the horizon. Along the shore, we joined the crowd strolling the bone-white promenade at a relaxed pace, breathing in the briny air.
“Can we sit?” Emil asked after a bit, stopping in a narrow patch of dappled shade.
“Yes, please,” I agreed, plopping down on the warm, bright walkway.
We settled on the ledge, our feet dangling over the water. A refreshing breeze wafted off the surface, occasional gusts spritzing us with salty drops.
The setting was bliss now with the puff of wind. The view was hard to abandon, and we lingered longer than intended. When we had finally said our silent goodbyes to Split, we headed back to the car and continued our journey along the shores of the Adriatic.
Despite the late hour, we stopped often to revel in the quaint beauty of the villages and admire the pristine white-sand beaches. Fluffy clouds moved at an impressive pace as we turned the corner into night, barely on the edge of leaving Croatia and entering Slovenia. There, thick trees and lush undergrowth lined the roads as we wove inland for the first time in hours. It felt like we had just passed one border before we reached the next, arriving in Italy before I could even fathom having already driven through Slovenia. The countries were all so close to each another, tied up together into a perfect gift.
Darkness closed in on all sides. The sleepy towns and rural roads blended outside of time and space. No indications other than the rare street sign pointed to our location. Eventually, my mind started to wander, swept away into the night.