A Place in the Sun

by R.S. Grey

  Another email from Andie pinged on my laptop and I read the subject line:

  PEE ON A STICK, YOU STUBBORN IDIOT.

  See what I mean? Shockingly unstable, that one.

  Still, she might have had a point. I had literally bought out the village’s supply of pregnancy tests. I could have sat outside the lone pharmacy, waiting for a couple to go rushing in, then price-gouged them on their way out. Since I owned a monopoly, I figured it wouldn’t hurt my position to get rid of one or two.

  I thought I really might take one then. I opened my bedside table and reached for the pink and white box, but then I heard footsteps in the common room and Gianluca’s voice filled the bed and breakfast.

  “Georgie?”

  Oh god.

  I slammed the drawer closed and jumped up to conceal it. Gianluca opened the door after a gentle knock and I feigned a big, easy smile.

  “HEY-OOO there.”

  He furrowed his brows, clearly suspicious. “Wow. Hi.”

  “Hello again.”

  He laughed and shook his head. “What are you doing in here?”

  At once, both of our gazes fell to the open crackers sitting on my bed.

  “Are you feeling all right?”

  “Yes. I was just reading…and I wanted a snack.”

  It was the truth, technically.

  “Right well, c’mon. I’ve got something to show you.”

  I frowned. “Where? Honestly, I’ve got to stay here and…”

  He shook his head and reached out for my hand, all but dragging me from my room. My stomach flu had flared up earlier, but the crackers had settled my stomach for the moment; I just had to hope they would last for a while.

  Massimo and Katerina were waiting for us outside. I hadn’t seen Katerina since our blowup on the mountain, but one look at her told me she wanted to make up. I didn’t lay into her—I regretted the way I’d shouted at her as well—and without a word, I stepped right up to her and held out my hand for her to shake.

  “Truce?”

  She grinned, bloody relieved, and pulled me into a hug. “Truce.”

  “Sorry I was an utter cow. Pun intended.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  “Well that was fast.” Massimo laughed. “I thought we’d be standing here for at least a half hour while you two had another go at one each other.”

  “We’re very ma-tour,” Katerina laughed, looping her arm through mine and tugging me into the square.

  Everyone seemed to know our destination but me.

  “Where are we going?”

  “To finish that hike we started a few days ago.”

  Oh, murder me. They expected me to climb mountains in my state?

  “Let me at least go change into some proper shoes.”

  Katerina shook her head and kept walking, forcing me toward the train station. We hopped on and headed toward Manarola. Out of the five villages in Cinque Terre, I’d spent the least amount of time there, hardly any at all, in fact. It was where I’d stormed off the other day, so I was familiar with the train station, but the group led me down a stone path toward the sea.

  I was concerned about my sandals and sundress, but I looked around and noticed no one else had their hiking gear on either. Gianluca was wearing shorts and a white linen shirt. Katerina carried a hefty straw bag stuffed to the brim with what looked to be beach towels.

  We continued down the stone path until we arrived in the center of Manarola, an area I’d never ventured to before. There were pastel buildings and restaurants bustling with tourists, but unlike Vernazza, Manarola was positioned high up on cliffs, giving us a spectacular view of the surrounding sea. Tourists were crowded at the iron railing at the edge of the main square, posing for photos and dipping over the edge to look down. That’s where Katerina dragged me, right to the edge. I looked down and gasped.

  There was a massive, naturally formed swimming grotto just below. Crystal clear water surrounded a jagged central rock formation that children were climbing on and then jumping off of. A few fish darted around the edges, staying out of the way of the swimmers. Sunbathers relaxed around the grotto, making use of the smooth granite rocks, worn down from use over the years.

  “Are we going down there?”

  Gianluca had come up behind me, boxing me in against the railing. “We’re going to swim.”

  “I didn’t bring my suit.”

  “I know.”

  They told me it was a rite of passage to take a hike from Riomaggiore to Manarola, strip off your sweaty clothes, and jump into the water as a reward for all your hard work. Since I’d stormed off the other day, we hadn’t had the chance.

  Now, we were going to make up for it.

  Gianluca led me down a steep staircase cut out of the granite rock. We carved out a bit of space for ourselves, sliding out of our shoes. The boys tugged off their shirts and I glanced up, aware of all the tourists watching us. I had on a pair of blue underwear and a matching bra, nothing more scandalous than the majority of the bathing suits I’d seen in Italy, but I still felt self-conscious tugging my sundress overhead.

  Massimo was already in his skivvies, about to jump into the water. Katerina had stripped off her clothes and was folding them beside her beach bag.

  “Nervous?” Gianluca asked, glancing back at me over his shoulder.

  For a moment, I just looked at him standing there with the sun shining overhead and the turquoise water at his back. He had beautiful tan skin. Broad, muscular shoulders. Heavy lashes. Thick brown hair and a devilish smirk. He was the most romantic-looking man I’d ever seen, and at times it hurt to look at him. In another world, he would have been an arrogant asshole. No man is that good looking without taking advantage of it, but Gianluca wasn’t like that. He had a heart of gold, a gentle soul, and I knew that once he loved, he loved forever.

  He reached his hand back for me. “Come on, we’ll go in together.”

  …

  Later that night, alone in the bed and breakfast, I finally worked up the courage to take a test.

  THE DAY AFTER we swam in Manarola, I finished gathering Allie’s things from my house. I shipped a good bit of her stuff to her parents back in London, passed on a few lightly worn dresses to Katerina so she could resell them in her shop, and kept a few photos and trinkets in a small shoebox, sealed with tape, for myself. My house felt empty. My closet was half-bare, my medicine cabinet had been depleted of her old prescriptions, and my walls were blank canvases once again. I’d taken down every hint of her and rather than the guilt I’d expected, I felt relief. After all this time, it felt good, right.

  I’d build a new life with Georgie in that villa. She’d fill the place with color and laughter and life. And while I feared loving someone else, knowing I could lose them just as easily, it wasn’t strong enough to override the new sense of optimism Georgie had infected me with.

  Georgie was youthful and vivacious. She spoke her mind and rarely let anyone else get a word in when she really got going. She was bold and beautiful, adventurous and so full of life, she made everyone around her feel it as well.

  I was in love with her.

  I knew it now, but the trouble came in the fact that it might have been too late.

  In the days since my birthday, she’d been distant and aloof, not quite cold, but guarded. Her smiles came slower, more forced. Her thoughts were somewhere else, and though I tried to pull her out of her quiet moods, I knew it wouldn’t work. Georgie was too stubborn for it. Even swimming in the grotto, she’d tried her hardest to keep her distance.

  The next day, I went into Il Mare early and spent the day working up on the third floor, but Georgie was M.I.A. I saw Taylor when he arrived back home in the evening.

  “Have you seen Georgie around?” I asked.

  “Oh, we had breakfast this morning and then she was heading to swim, I think. Did she not tell you?”

  I swallowed down my anger that Taylor seemed to know more about the woman I loved than I did.
/>
  “No.” I shook my head. “She didn’t tell me.”

  I waited for her. I had a plan. The moment I saw her, I would lay down my heart for her, plead with her to stay in Vernazza and share her life with me. I wanted to make up for lost time, to explain to her that my heart wasn’t split in half anymore, that she owned it all.

  When darkness fell and I still hadn’t heard her come in, I started to worry.

  Why hadn’t she come home?

  Why was she trying to avoid me?

  I packed up my tools and decided to head up to the villa in case she might have been waiting for me there, though I knew it was a stretch.

  During the walk home, I overanalyzed our last few encounters. What if Georgie had finally realized I wasn’t worth the trouble after all? I’d been assuming she’d jump into my arms when I finally told her about moving on from Allie, but what if it was too little, too late? My imagination ran wild with dark thoughts of what my life would turn into if Georgie left. Everything would go back to the way it was before. I’d have Massimo and Katerina, sure, but there was little else.

  I grabbed a beer out of the fridge and stood outside, watching the waves crash against the breaker.

  In truth, it’d taken me five years to fall in love again. I didn’t let people in easily, and now the woman I wanted more than anything was pushing me away. For good reason, I reminded myself. In recent weeks, I’d taken my sweet time unraveling my feelings, keeping her at arm’s length, trying to work out my baggage before unloading it in her lap.

  After that thought, I went back inside for a second beer, then thought better of it and pulled down a dusty bottle of whiskey. I’d stayed away from alcohol after Allie’s death, too scared I would spiral out of control. Now, I needed it. I relished the burn, the physical symptoms that accompanied heartache.

  A few shots later, when the edges of my world started to blur, I finally noticed a light on in Georgie’s room at Il Mare. She was home, safe, and though I longed to see her, my drunken state promised disaster if I ran down and tried to explain myself now.

  No, I stayed up there, fixed on the hazy yellow glow from her window, preparing for the next morning. There was no way in hell I would just let Georgie walk away from us without showing her that I was ready to move on. At the crack of dawn, I’d march down to Il Mare and make the promises she’d been so desperate to hear from me. I could prove to her that I was ready to move on.

  I was ready for strings.

  GIANLUCA LEFT AND I couldn’t sit still. I’d been hiding in my room at Il Mare like a coward all evening, even keeping the light off so he wouldn’t know I was there. Pathetic, I know, but now my chocolate reserves were running low and Mopsie was clawing at the door, angry with me for keeping him away from his coveted plush mouse. We all have needs, Mopsie. Mine centered around avoiding Gianluca at all costs.

  Tomorrow was a big day.

  The biggest day of any big days.

  “All right! All right, I’m letting you out,” I said to Mopsie after he’d shot me what could only be described as a menacing glare. I slid off my bed and stood on atrophied knees, pried the door open slowly just in case Gianluca was still hiding somewhere.

  He wasn’t, and even Mopsie was a bit sad about that.

  Il Mare was eerily quiet and I had half a mind to go up and ask if Taylor fancied some company, but he’d brought home a girl a few hours ago and I doubted they wanted me to join in their love fest. I was shite enough at managing one lover; I didn’t need to add two more.

  Truthfully, I had a lot on my mind. Too much. Tomorrow was a big day. Had I mentioned that? Big. Decisions loomed heavy in the distance, and instead of focusing on them like a healthy adult, I cleaned my room. Top to bottom, every single floorboard, every nook and cranny.

  I found a leftover lemon candy wrapper in the closet and teared up, even stuffed it into the tiny pocket on my pajama top for safekeeping. Who’s the hoarder now?

  I did a load of laundry, and then another. I packed my bag for the next day, wanting to ensure I brought enough things to entertain me. I stuffed a paperback inside, and then thought better of it and put them all in there. No point in leaving any. The lemon candy wrapper went right up at the top. It was a poor substitute for Gianluca himself, but it was better than nothing.

  I straightened up the common room, fluffed the pillows, and arranged a vase of flowers on the coffee table.

  Everything was set.

  At 8:15 AM the next morning, I’d catch a train out of Vernazza, and my whole life would change.

  THE NEXT MORNING, I peeled my eyes open and blinked twice, trying to pinpoint where I was. I’d never made it up to my bedroom the night before. I was sprawled out on my couch with empty beer bottles littering the floor around me. I sat up, instantly regretted it, and then leaned my head back against the cushion, overtaken by the sharp ache of my hangover.

  “Merde,” I moaned, pressing the heel of my hands against my temples, massaging gently. Nothing helped. I eventually forced my way into the kitchen, guzzled a glass of the water, and then filled it again. I downed a few painkillers and splashed water on my face. I needed a decent shower, maybe two. My face needed a good shave, but there was no time.

  I needed to find Georgie.

  I changed my clothes and dragged a hand through my hair. I shoved my keys into my pocket and ran for the bed and breakfast, fearing Georgie wouldn’t be there, and as I suspected, she wasn’t. The front door was locked. Her room was empty. Her bed was made and the rest of the place looked spotless, as if she’d spent the entire day before cleaning it from top to bottom. The stack of books she usually kept on her nightstand was gone, and I didn’t want to think about what that could mean.

  I headed to Katerina’s shop, prepared to drag information out of her, but she wasn’t there when I arrived. I knocked on her door and held my hands up to the glass. The lights were off and a sign beside the door said the shop wouldn’t be open for another two hours.

  Fuck.

  I turned and caught sight of The Blue Marlin on the edge of my vision. I needed coffee to clear my head, and it would be a good place to wait. I’d be able to spot Georgie if she walked by and I’d catch Katerina before she made it into the shop.

  Antonio looked up when I stepped inside and offered me a smile.

  “Buongiorno.”

  I nodded and asked for a double espresso and a croissant.

  “That early bird of yours already stopped in for hers this morning,” he said with a soft chuckle.

  I whipped my head up. “What? Georgie’s been by?”

  He nodded and pointed up the path toward the train station. “Just a few minutes ago. She asked me to wrap a few things to-go, said she had a long day ahead of her.”

  I cursed under my breath, turned on my heel, and ran as fast as I could to the train station in disbelief. The road was deserted that early and it only took me a few seconds to reach the stairs. I took them two at a time, surfaced at the top of the platform, and spun in a circle. There were a few hikers waiting for the next train, but no Georgie.

  “Have you seen a girl with brown hair?” I asked them.

  I held my hand up to my shoulder to show her height, but they shook their heads.

  “Sorry, mate,” one man replied, shaking his head. “The platform was empty when we arrived.”

  I tugged my hands through my hair, turned in circles, and then ran down the train platform to see if maybe she was sitting down somewhere. I checked the small tourist shop, but it was still locked up. The tracks were empty. Another train arrived, everyone loaded on, and then I was left by myself.

  She was nowhere and I couldn’t breathe.

  I hunched over and tried to suppress the vomit rising in my throat. My catastrophic thinking from the night before seemed to be coming true.

  It made sense that she would leave Vernazza as suddenly as she had appeared.

  “Man, are you okay?”

  It was the guy from before, concerned. I was still hu
nched over, trying to catch my breath.

  “Anything we can do to help?”

  I shook my head.

  How could anybody help?

  Georgie was gone.

  ON GEORGIE’S FIRST day in Vernazza, she had fainted. On what seemed to be her last, I was the one feeling lightheaded. I couldn’t believe she’d gone.

  Even when I tried to be logical and assure myself that she was probably off shopping or clearing her head in a nearby village, the pessimist inside me would counter, arguing that even if she wasn’t leaving for good this time, eventually, she would. She was in Vernazza on holiday. It was absolutely mad to think she’d stay on forever. Unlike me, Georgie had a life back home in London. She had somewhere to go.

  I sat on a bench at the train station waiting for her for ages. I watched families load in and out of the train, keeping a careful watch for a brunette girl with a wide smile and just a little bit of crazy lurking behind her gaze.

  I confirmed she wasn’t at Il Mare or my villa, and then finally sick of pacing around the village, I threw up my hands and took my boat out to the middle of the sea, far enough away that Vernazza was nothing but a dot on the horizon. My boat was too small to be out this far, but I took comfort in the waves rocking me up and down. I’d come out with hopes of fishing, but I couldn’t work up the will to prepare my line.

  Instead, I entertained ideas of chasing after Georgie. If I loved her as much as I thought I did, wouldn’t I follow her to London? We could start over and date like normal people. I could try to get my old job back at the finance firm. They’d been sympathetic when I needed time off for Allie, and even mentioned I could always come back when I was ready. I still had my flat there. I could get my things out of storage and settle back into my old life.

  Those thoughts didn’t last long though. Vernazza allowed me to be the man Georgie loved. She could have any miserable sod in a suit in London if she wanted.