A Place in the Sun

by R.S. Grey

  “She’s already got someone booked for a month from now,” Gianluca said with a proud smile.

  Katerina clapped. “No way! That’s awesome, Georgie.”

  “There will still be work to do,” he continued, “but I can do it during the day when the guests are out exploring.”

  “He wants to fix up that little balcony on the top floor, so the guests can use it.”

  Her brows perked up. “That’ll be brilliant. I reckon they’ll have a perfect view of the sea up there.”

  I know it’s silly, but I was thrilled by the idea of Gianluca continuing to work at the bed and breakfast even after it was open for guests. I was eager to move in and start managing the place properly, but I didn’t want our days to change. Right now it was easy. We didn’t have to make plans or go on dates. I didn’t have to linger by my mobile, eagerly awaiting his calls and texts. Every morning, I found him at the bed and breakfast, just like the day before. I didn’t know what would happen once he finished up and truthfully, I didn’t want to think about it. For the time being, our arrangement was working just fine.

  “I’ve told Georgie she can go ahead and move her things into the first floor.”

  The plumbing and electrical were finished on the bottom floor. I’d painted the bedroom earlier in the week, trying to stick close to the original sunflower yellow, and I’d left the windows open for a few days to air out the fumes. The only thing left to do was gather my things and move to the opposite corner of the square.

  “I’m excited to move out of that tiny hotel room.”

  Chiara had all but ignored me since our beach trip all those days ago; it’d been painfully awkward to sidle past her in the mornings.

  “That’s awesome,” Katerina said. “You’ll have a real kitchen and living room.”

  “Well, it’s technically for the guests, but I suppose I could hang out there when we haven’t got any reservations.”

  She nodded and reached for her wine glass. “I think this calls for toast. I can’t believe you got this moody bloke to fix that place up with you. It was long overdue.” I laughed as she continued, “To Georgie!”

  “To Georgie!” Massimo added.

  I glanced across the table just as Gianluca lifted his glass. To them, he looked the same as always, but I saw the playfulness in his gaze as he lifted his glass for me, that little smirk playing on the edge of his mouth.

  “To Georgie…”

  “I think we ought to throw a party,” Massimo suggested. “To celebrate.”

  “A party?” I shook my head. “No way! We’ve just spent weeks fixing the place up. I won’t have people trash it just before we open.”

  Katerina perked up. “How about we do it up at Gianluca’s villa! The weather is still perfect and we have to take advantage of it! We could keep everyone outside, and we don’t have to invite loads of people, just a few friends. We could have a proper cookout and put on a bit of music. It’s so far away from the square that no one would complain.”

  That actually sounded nice. The three of us turned toward Gianluca, hopeful. He didn’t seem too keen on the idea, but I leaned forward and smiled. “C’mon, I think it’ll be fun. We deserve to celebrate all of our hard work.”

  With our legs twined beneath the table and memories of our morning still fresh in his mind, I knew he’d caught my double entendre. He nodded and offered up a dimpled smirk aimed right at me.

  “All right. Let’s do it.”

  IN THE WEEKS leading up to the completion of the bed and breakfast, Georgie and I were busier than ever. I helped her move her things into the first-floor bedroom (she had accumulated a significantly greater number of shoes since that first day we carried her bags across the square) and she spent an entire day getting settled in. I was upstairs replacing a patch of crumbling plaster in the bathroom later that evening when she called my name to show me the finished look.

  She’d completely transformed the dark, neglected room. The massive window on the right wall was flung open and there were no screens to dampen the moonlight spilling into the room. She’d replaced the old bedding with fluffy white pillows and soft blankets. Furniture was sparse and mismatched; she was using an old wooden stool as a nightstand, but she’d stacked a few paperbacks and set a vase of white hydrangeas on top of it. I’d brought her the flowers from the market that morning.

  “It’s already loads better than that tiny hotel room. This space feels like my own.”

  She was standing in the center of the room with a proud smile on her face.

  “It’s brilliant, right?”

  I nodded and stuffed my hands into my pockets so I wouldn’t be tempted to step forward and wrap them around her waist.

  I wanted Georgie.

  Constantly.

  Thoughts of her kept me up at night. That body of hers was enough to tempt any man, but I’d pushed off sex, laying down an arbitrary line and telling myself I couldn’t cross it. Georgie was more to me than a quick lay.

  God, what utter bullshit.

  If I was being honest with myself, I was scared shitless. I didn’t want to push things too far with her, to get to a point where I felt vulnerable again. I tricked myself into thinking that our mornings spent in her bed were nothing to worry about. If we were just having a bit of fun, fooling around and slacking off on work, there was no need to digest it, to take stock of my growing feelings. I told myself if we weren’t actually having sex, I was a safe man.

  I was wrong.

  …

  One afternoon, Georgie and I were lying in her bed, taking our time waking up from an afternoon nap. Sunlight streamed in through her window, heating the room enough that climbing out of bed seemed impossible. I was on my back, staring up at the ceiling and drawing slow circles on Georgie’s back. It was the first time we’d been in a bed to sleep and it felt strange to have our legs tangled together with our clothes on. It brought up feelings of guilt I tried hard to keep buried. Allie would have understood my need to have sex, but this intimacy, this lying in bed with Georgie just to be close to her was different. It would have broken Allie’s heart.

  “We should get up,” I said.

  “One more minute,” she countered, her breath warm against my neck as she nestled another inch closer.

  We’d agreed there would be no strings attached, but that wasn’t really how strings worked. It was just a platitude uttered months ago, back when I didn’t know what it felt like to lie with Georgie in my arms, to feel her fingers drag through my hair, to feel her soft breath drift across my chest. And her smile—being on the receiving end of one of Georgie’s smiles was like feeling the summer sun as it breaks through the clouds.

  I pushed the unsettling thoughts from my mind, kissed the top of her head, and sat up. I needed to get out of her bed.

  “C’mon, I think we should skip out on work for the rest of the afternoon. I want to take you out on the water.”

  She blinked the sleep out of her eyes. “On the water? Like a boat?”

  I grinned. “Exactly.”

  That was one of the other great things about being with Georgie in Vernazza: everything was new and exciting for her. There was something about leading her through fresh experiences, even if they had become routine for me, that allowed me to recapture some of the wonder I’d lost over the years.

  My old fishing boat was bobbing lazily in the harbor with faded red paint and just room enough for two. Without waiting for instruction, Georgie jumped in, clinging to the low railing to steady herself.

  I handed her two fishing poles and then stepped in after her. I kept waiting for her to complain. With her wealth, I was sure she’d been on a few boats in her lifetime, none of which resembled this old clunker.

  “How far do we have to go until we can catch fish?”

  I smiled. “We could fish here, but I’ll take us out a little bit.”

  I turned on the loud motor and directed us out to sea. Georgie held down her sun hat and laughed as we started battling wi
th the choppy water. I didn’t take us out far, hardly a few yards beyond the breakwater. Vernazza sat behind us, the pastel buildings rimming Georgie on either side. She reached into the small bucket for a worm, slipped it onto the end of her hook, and grinned over me.

  “I’ll bet you didn’t think I’d be able to manage that, did you?”

  “You’re full of surprises.”

  She spun her pole to the right and cast her line. It was a bit clumsy, but I was impressed she knew how to handle a fishing pole at all. I fixed my line and followed suit. For a while, we sat in silence out on the water, bobbing with the waves and enjoying the sounds of Vernazza in the distance.

  A heavy gust of wind whipped up out of nowhere and nearly carried Georgie’s hat off before she reached up and grabbed it.

  “Sometimes I can’t stand how windy it is here.”

  I shook my head. “Italians love the wind. We can even tell the weather by it.”

  “Really?”

  I nodded, though she couldn’t see; she was facing the water, checking her line and watching for fish.

  “There are the warm winds from the Sahara called scirocco, and westerlies from Corcisa called libeccio. They pick up moisture from the sea and carry storms into the villages. When we feel those winds coming, we know to close up our windows and stay off the water.”

  “Hopefully we don’t have those today.”

  I smiled. “We’re in luck—we have the wind from the north, la tramontana. It affects life in Cinque Terre more than anything. La tramontana sweeps cool air down the Alps, across the sky, and clears the clouds and rain away. Kids go out to play and it’s good for tourists.”

  “Well then that’s the wind I like. What’s it called again?”

  “La tramontana.”

  “Right. Tramontana.”

  “Georgie, your line’s moving.”

  “Oh! A fish!”

  I laughed and helped her reel it in. It was only a small sea bass, but Georgie held it up, proud of herself.

  “We’ll cook it up for dinner, right? It will be heavenly with the fresh zucchini Katerina brought me earlier from Massimo’s farm.”

  Her eyes were wide with hope, her cheeks flush and pink from the wind. She was grinning from ear to ear and holding the unlucky fish, waiting for my response.

  “We’ll need more than that for dinner,” I said, pointing to the small creature.

  She laughed and leaned forward to press a quick kiss to my mouth. “Well then, I suggest you work on catching one of your own ’cause I’m not sharing.”

  “OH BLOODY HELL. How much farther have we got?”

  Katerina and I were still at the bottom of the hill that lead up to Gianluca’s villa. We were lugging a case of wine, some bags from the market, and our clothes for the party. We’d managed to make it round the church just past the square before she threw up her hands and deemed the trek impossible.

  “Katerina, we’ve only got to go up the hill. We can do it.”

  “We already have our hair done! I don’t want to sweat so much my curls fall out.”

  It was chilly outside with heavy, fat clouds covering the sun.

  “I don’t think you need to worry about that. Here, give me the wine and you go on. I’ll catch up to you.”

  It was finally the day of the party and I was so excited. Gianluca and I had worked endlessly the last few days to get the bed and breakfast ready, so much so that we’d hardly had time for ourselves. I’d been running into La Spezia for supplies and decorations for the rooms. By the time I would arrive back, Gianluca was usually gone off getting building supplies or smack-dab in the middle of a project he couldn’t step away from, like replacing the main light in the first-floor sitting room with a pretty vintage chandelier I’d found at a resale shop in La Spezia. By the time we were finished each day, I’d dismiss dinner in favor of a shower and early bedtime. I was exhausted but determined not to show it. It had been my idea to fix up the place, and I couldn’t complain now, not when we were so close.

  Our first guest was due to arrive in a two weeks: Taylor Dubrow from Seattle, Washington. We’d emailed over the last few days and she seemed very nice. She was staying on for a while and I’d already thrown together a care package for her filled with Cinque Terre must-haves: lemon candies, olive oil, and hand-rolled pasta. If I could have, I’d have put fresh baked focaccia inside of it as well, but I’d just have to take her to get some once she arrived.

  “Looks like the rain isn’t going to hold off,” Katerina said, a few yards in front of me on the trail. “It’ll be storming in no time.”

  I frowned.

  We were due to cook outside and grill up a ton of fish, meat, and veggies. We’d have to cram ourselves into Gianluca’s house if it rained and I knew he wouldn’t like that. He’d told me as much the day before when I’d listed the people Katerina, Massimo, and I had invited.

  “That’s too many people.”

  “It’s not even ten!”

  “I’d have preferred it to be just you and me.”

  I’d grinned at that—any girl would—especially since it’d been days since we’d had a chance to be alone together. I swore to him it wouldn’t be too many people, but it wasn’t true. I’d left off the fact that Massimo had called round to a few pals in La Spezia. Ten people could easily double if they’d all agreed to attend. I grimaced at the thought, took a deep breath, and followed Katerina up the hill. I was determined to make it a fun night no matter what.

  Gianluca and Massimo were waiting for us outside his villa, fixing up the grill and starting to heat the coals. They were using the second-floor balcony as a bit of protection from the rain; it was just enough space that Gianluca could still grill outside if it started pouring.

  “You should have called for us,” he said, rushing forward to relieve me of the wine and grocery bags. “I’d have come down and helped you carry all this.”

  I grinned. “We are independent ladies with large muscles, thank you very much.”

  He bent down in greeting and pecked my cheek, nothing too conspicuous since we were in front of Katerina and Massimo. They knew we’d become good friends, but I’d yet to tell Katerina we were fooling around as well. It wasn’t like Gianluca had forbidden me from telling other people about us, but when I’d open my mouth to tell her, something would stop me, this little voice in the back of my head telling me to keep the relationship private. Maybe a part of me was a bit ashamed by the setup, but I stowed that thought away and replaced it with more likely ideas. I knew Katerina would pester me to make it official—why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free and all that—but truthfully, I didn’t mind giving away my milk for free. And, to be perfectly clear, I hadn’t yet given away the whole carton, but I hoped that would change tonight.

  “Gianluca, did you invite Chiara tonight?” Katerina asked, waggling her brows for emphasis.

  He frowned. “Why should I?”

  I looked at the ground and pretended to be intrigued by a cactus growing up near the barbecue.

  “Don’t play coy. I just thought you two were really hitting it off when we went to the beach a while back.”

  “No. We’re just friends.”

  I smiled, but then wiped it away when I remembered Katerina had a perfect line of sight to me.

  “Right. Okay.”

  Massimo laughed. “Don’t pester him, Katerina. If he wants to live the life of a celibate monk, we’ll let him. Good news is, I invited a few lads Georgie might enjoy chatting with—”

  “Oh! You shouldn’t have done that. I’m perfectly happy to just hang out with you guys tonight.”

  Katerina frowned. “What happened to looking for a relationship—a ‘proper Italian man’?”

  I croaked out a laugh. “Did I say that? Hmm, well if you’ll recall, my whole reason for fleeing London was to escape from matchmaking. There’s just too much pressure involved.”

  Gianluca nodded. “Right, so then we won’t concern ourselves with all that.
Everyone will be here in a few minutes, so let’s worry about all the vegetables that still need to be chopped up.”

  I grinned, happy for the change in subject. “I’ll do it.”

  If Katerina and Massimo were suspicious of Gianluca and me, they didn’t press it. Katerina and I slipped into the kitchen and dropped our things on the broad wooden table. I wasn’t ready to change into my party clothes, but I reached into my bag and pulled out my dress so it wouldn’t wrinkle. It was fabulous, with little straps over the shoulders and a short skirt. The thin material was light blue, nearly white, and even though it wasn’t practical for the cool evening, I knew it would look brilliant with my tan.

  Katerina had been inside Gianluca’s villa more than I had, so she flitted around the kitchen, pulling out cutting boards and knives for us. I washed all the vegetables in the sink, scrubbing off the rich dirt from Massimo’s farm. The zucchini still had the giant yellow flowers on the end. The peppers were massive and misshapen, not like the aesthetically curated ones you get at shops in England.

  “Hey! You’re supposed to be chopping, not eating.”

  I winked over at Katerina. “Just doing a quality check.”

  “Mmhmm,” she hummed, stepping over and opening her mouth for me. I slipped her a slice of red pepper and she grinned while she chewed.

  “I think we should set these aside and eat them raw. They’re so good as they are.”

  She nodded. “I agree, but we can take everything else out to Gianluca. The grill should be hot by now and there’s just enough time to change and fix our makeup before guests start to arrive.”

  We’d only been inside for a few minutes, but by the time we carried the food out for the boys to grill, the sky had already darkened another shade of navy blue. Swirling clouds gathered over the sea and though the sun wasn’t due to set for another few hours, it already looked like night outside.

  “I hope everyone still makes it,” I said, handing off the bowl of raw vegetables to Gianluca.

  A massive gust of wind whipped up around the villa just then, forcing a few strands of my hair across my face. Gianluca leaned over and pulled them away, grinning down at me.