by Nina Singh
“The most rugged pair I brought with me are sneakers.”
“That should work,” he reassured her.
Now that she thought about it, she remembered reading about one of Positano’s more famous, if not less glamorous, attractions in a travel agency brochure. A hiking trail along the cliffside. Not usually a hiker type, she hadn’t given it much thought. Gianni was telling her it was not to be missed. Still, she had reservations.
Gianni had already ordered and had the breakfast waiting for her when she’d come downstairs. She found herself ridiculously grateful that the food was there and ready, particularly the coffee. Laney took a sip of her strong espresso and tore off a piece of the brioche, then popped it into her mouth. “Just how strenuous is this going to be?” she asked.
“You dance every night to bouncy pop songs and carry heavy trays laden with bottles and cocktails. I think you can handle it.”
Dancing and delivering drinks used entirely different muscles and skills than the ones required to ascend mountainside cliffs. Nevertheless, she ran upstairs quickly to change into her athletic shoes and a pair of denim shorts while Gianni waited.
When she arrived back down at the lobby, Gianni was loading up the backpack he’d brought with snacks and bottles of water.
“I’m ready,” she told him. Or as ready as she was ever going to be. Growing up in New England, she’d visited more than her fair share of mountains and thought herself a skilled and experienced skier. But none of those mountains could be considered anything near cliff-like.
She hoped Gianni knew what he was doing here.
In moments, they were boarding a late-model SUV helmed by a uniformed driver.
“We’ll get dropped off at Agerola. And the path will bring us back to Nocelle,” Gianni explained as she buckled herself in the back seat next to him. The way he pronounced the names of the cities in a fluid Italian accent sounded alluring and exotic. “Should take about an hour or so to drive there.”
“Nocelle?”
“It’s the cliffside village right above Positano.” He pointed up toward the sky. “We’ll be over a thousand or so feet above where we started from.”
Well, that implied there was a piece of the overall puzzle missing. “And how do we get down, then?”
“That’s the best part.” The smile he gave her sent a small shiver down her spine. She wanted to pretend it was due to the adventure ahead of them and nothing more.
“How so?”
“We go down the stairs.”
She felt her jaw drop as she took in what he said. “Over a thousand feet of stairs.”
“Can you handle it?”
“I’m not sure. That’s a lot of steps.”
“About fifteen hundred or so.”
They were driving around tight roads through commercial shops and street-side vendors. A quaint scene of seaside life in Italy she probably would have enjoyed more if she wasn’t worrying about how her legs would handle a thousand plus number of steps after hiking a trail for a couple of hours.
“Come on,” Gianni said. “You’re pretty fit. You lead weekly fitness classes. The way you carry all those cocktails and bottles. And those fitness classes you teach.” He did a move as he performed small double kicks behind the seat in what she assumed was meant to imitate an aerobic workout step. A bubble of laughter escaped her lips.
“That’s not quite the same as jumping down miles worth of steps, is it?”
He shrugged. “At least I’m no making you go up the steps. Why I hired a car to get us up there.”
She shuddered at the thought. “Well, thank you for that.”
“You’ll have fun, I promise,” he said as he placed his hand on her thigh above her knee. She couldn’t even help the images that immediately flooded her mind at his touch. Memories of their one night together after the wedding reception.
Different time. Different place.
She’d learned her lesson when it came to this man. No, she was simply enjoying his company as a friend who happened to be familiar with the foreign city she was visiting. He was helping her to make the most of this trip. There absolutely could not be a replay of the events that had led them into each other’s arms. She simply didn’t have it in her to deal with the emotional fallout.
As if sensing her thoughts, Gianni quickly removed his hand. He pointed to a spot outside her passenger-side window. “That place has the best gelato this side of the ocean. Remind me to have us stop there at some point.”
See, his comment was further cementing her point. She would have had no idea where to go to get the best gelato. Heck, it might not have even occurred to her that she wanted any. And she might have missed going on this hiking path altogether if it weren’t for Gianni.
Suddenly, she felt better about her decision to take him up on being her companion for the next couple of days or so. Then she’d be off to Florence for the next adventure. He hadn’t offered to accompany her there, and she wouldn’t ask him to. He was only here in Positano because he could helpfully show her around the area.
A pang of regret tugged at her chest that she’d be alone once again after she got to Florence. But she shook it off. One step at a time. Starting with the ones that would follow their massive hike.
Pretty soon the shops and vendor carts gave way to a narrow stone-lined path surrounded by the greenest shrubbery she’d ever seen.
“How long will we be hiking?”
Gianni gave a small shrug. “Depends how often we stop. You brought your camera like I asked?”
She nodded in answer.
“Trust me, you’ll want to pause several times to take photos. You’re not going to believe the visionary treat that’s in store for you.”
All right. He had her curiosity piqued. “There’s a reason it’s called Il Sentiero degli Dei.”
“What’s that mean?”
“The Path of the Gods.”
So celestial. And a little under an hour later, Laney was well on the way to fully grasping exactly why the hiking path had such a divine name. View after view was more breathtaking than the last. She’d taken countless photos. The crystal blue ocean beneath them reminded her of the finest turquoise jewelry, the greenery a color of rich jade she’d never seen before.
A visual buffet of magnificence that had her gasping with wonder as they reached each new vantage point. By the time they reached the massive array of steps over two hours later, she was panting and her midsection felt tight and fluttery.
Gianni noticed. “Are you all right?” He handed her a bottle of water.
She nodded. “All the excitement. Plus, I’m famished. Those granola bars only did so much to tide me over.” Funny, now that she thought about it, she realized she’d been hungrier on this trip than she could ever remember being. Waiting for the next mealtime had proven impossible most days, and she’d found herself down in the hotel concierge floor to nab a bite, or stopping in a shop along her way to the beach. Who knew going on a bucket-list trip would so arouse a girl’s appetite?
Gianni studied her with concern for a beat, then hoisted his backpack. “Then let’s get down these steps posthaste. We’ll get you an authentic Italian meal you won’t soon forget.”
* * *
Gianni could barely contain his amusement when he led Laney to the front door of a charming two-story box building, rather than to the entrance of a bistro like she’d no doubt been expecting.
“Where are we?” she asked, as he led her up the steps and knocked on the door. “Did you need to run an errand or something?”
Her voice was on the verge of snappy and she looked mildly annoyed. Like his younger clients at the gym would call it, she was “hangry.” He had to get some food in her and soon. This was just the place. “I promised you an authentic Positano meal like no other.”
“But this is clearly someone’s house,” she prot
ested while the sound of footsteps could be heard behind the door.
“Trust me.”
The door swung open at that moment and the familiar matronly face of his favorite zia beamed at them from across the threshold.
“Gianni! Mi bambino. Bene! Bene!”
She stepped out onto the porch and enveloped him in a tight affectionate hug. When she finally let go, she turned her attention to Laney who looked rather shell-shocked. Her expression only grew in surprise when Zia Rosa took her by the arm and led her inside behind her.
“Come in...come in,” she said in perfect English, albeit with a thick Italian accent. “We were expecting you tomorrow.”
“Change in plans,” Gianni answered. “Hope that’s okay.”
“Yeah, it’s okay. You are welcome here any time of day whenever you wish.”
He knew that, of course. Laney didn’t look convinced, however. He made brief introductions, explaining to Laney exactly where they were and who was leading her to a center table and sitting her down on one of the chairs.
“Dinner won’t be for another couple of hours,” his aunt announced. “But let me get you some bruschetta while you wait. And there’s some soup left from lunch. You are both hungry, yes?”
“Yes. But we don’t want to impose, Signora Rosa.” She stopped long enough to send him a fierce glare across the table as he took his own seat. “I had no idea we were coming. Unannounced, no less.”
His zia scoffed, setting a steaming bowl of minestrone and a plate of fragrant bruschetta in front of them both. “Nonsense. Family needs no announcement.”
“Rosa spent years studying international affairs in London,” Gianni explained. “Her English is more proper than mine.”
“I can see that.” Laney seemed to have suddenly lost her earlier hesitancy, once the soup and veggie-loaded tray of bread were placed in front of her. His aunt’s warmth and hospitality had surely helped, as well.
Rosa turned to retrieve more bread from the pantry. Laney leaned over the table as soon as she left the room.
“We shouldn’t have come unannounced, Gianni.”
He waved away the comment. “Stop worrying about it. Italy isn’t like the States. Friends and family often just show up. Particularly family that happens to be visiting from half a world away.”
Her eyebrows drew together, making it rather clear she didn’t quite believe him. “What if she was out? Or if it was a bad time?”
He shrugged. “If it happens to be an inconvenient time, the visitor is just told so. And they wander off to come back and visit another day.”
Laney leaned back against her chair. “Huh. You’re right. That’s completely different from how things are in the States. It’s definitely different from the way I grew up.”
Yeah, he’d gotten the impression even before her sister’s wedding that her family was rather keen on formality and proper decorum. Rules in general.
“Yeah, and there’s always food,” he answered, helping himself to more. Particularly at an older aunt’s house, regardless of the time of day.
Good thing too. He could practically hear Laney’s stomach grumbling from three feet away.
She looked right here, at his aunt’s small wooden table in her cozy kitchen. As if she belonged. And it felt right, to have her in this house, with him. As if she belonged by his side.
There was no doubt Zia Rosa had already taken a liking to her. He would have gotten some kind of stink-eye look by now if that weren’t the case.
Still, he couldn’t help but notice the slight dark circles under Laney’s eyes, the tight set of her mouth. The way she still hadn’t seemed to fully catch her breath. She looked fatigued, weary. He would have to make sure to get her back to her hotel room early so she could rest.
Their long hike and the subsequent trek down the Nocelle stairs had worn her down more than he would have expected.
Just went to show, even when his heart was in the right place, he couldn’t seem to do right by Laney Taytum.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THREE HOURS LATER, after yet another scrumptious meal of seafood and homemade pasta, Gianni took her upstairs to sit on the balcony. Between the view of the ocean in the distance as the sun set and the quaint scenes of walkers and playing children in the street below, Laney felt as if she could be sitting in a painting. Straight out of the Italian Renaissance.
Just more affirmation that besides the awkwardness of the situation, she had made the right decision about Gianni accompanying her. By contrast, if she hadn’t taken him up on his offer, she’d be alone in her hotel room right now with a paperback or trying to discern the Italian on some random television show.
Heavens, she felt tired though. More so than she’d felt in as long a time as she could remember. Her days back home were rather physical, so it was somewhat surprising that she was feeling so bone-deep exhausted.
“Did we over do it today?” Gianni asked next to her, tilting his chair back on its two back legs, reading her thoughts. But then, he seemed to have a knack for doing that. It hardly even surprised her anymore.
“So I look as exhausted as I feel, then?”
“You always look beautiful, Laney.”
Good thing the sun was setting, hopefully the shadows would prevent him from noticing the slight flush that instantly rushed to her cheeks at the compliment.
“But you do look rather tired,” he added. “Sorry if the hike was too much.”
She shook her head, wondering how he was managing to not topple backward as far as that chair was tilted. “Probably still some jet lag lingering on top of the exertion of the hike.”
He looked concerned enough that she wanted to change the subject. “Your aunt is a lovely woman,” she told him. “And quite a cook,” she added, rubbing her belly. “I may never enjoy another meal again after that work of art she set in front of us.”
“She is at that. It’s too bad my cousin is away on business. You would have liked him. He’s quite a character.”
“Then it must be a family trait. Something in the genes.”
She was certain she didn’t imagine the slight wince and the sudden lift of his shoulders.
“Aunt Rosa is my father’s sister,” he said, as if that explained anything.
“I’m guessing you think you take after your mother’s side of the family more.”
The clang of metal hitting the wooden balcony floor rang through the air as he straightened the chair finally to sit on all four legs.
“You could say that.” He stood suddenly. “I’ll be right back.”
When he returned about a minute later, he held a frosty tall bottle full of bright yellow liquid, along with two bottles of water and a couple of glasses.
“Limoncello,” he declared, holding up the bottle. “Homemade by said cousin you have the misfortune of not being able to meet this visit.”
As refreshing as the drink sounded, alcohol was definitely not what she wanted or needed at the moment. She could barely keep her eyes open as it was. But the sweaty bottle of water was practically calling to her.
“Maybe later. I will take the water from you though.”
“Are you sure? This stuff is made from the ripest lemons grown only in this part of the world.”
She absolutely was. “Just the water for now, please.”
He tossed it to her with a shrug. “Suit yourself.”
Tiny effervescent bubbles floated in the air as he poured himself the limoncello. The aroma tickled her nose and she imagined herself walking through a fruitful citrus garden. She would have to make a note to add a limoncello-based drink at the club when she returned to Boston.
Gianni seemed to have gone silent, sipping his drink slowly and staring at the ocean in the distance. The water was growing a darker, deeper shade of blue as the sun lowered farther into the horizon.
&
nbsp; Taking a long drink of her water, she tried to keep the conversation going. “So, tell me about this cousin of yours. He’s clearly some kind of drink master.”
Gianni scoffed, didn’t turn to her as he answered. “He’s not really my cousin.”
“He’s not?”
“No. And Aunt Rosa’s not really my aunt. And my father is definitely not—” He cut off the words, took another drink instead. This time it was way more than a sip.
Laney gave a shake of her head. Obviously, she was missing something.
He made the universal sign of sealed lips in a clearly mocking gesture. “But don’t tell anyone. No one can talk about it. Even though everyone knows.”
Understanding began to dawn. “Oh, do you mean you were adopted?” It was the only explanation that made sense of what he was saying.
“Not quite. I was the product of an extramarital affair.”
Laney bit down on her gasp of surprise. Just barely. She could hardly find the words to respond. Exactly what did one say to such an admission?
Several beats of awkward silence ensued until she finally broke it with the truth. “I don’t know what to say, Gianni. Other than that, from what I can see, you were born into and grew up in a loving family.”
His fingers had tightened on the glass he held. She worried it might shatter in his hand. “That’s the absolute truth. Except for one small yet significant detail.”
“What’s that?”
“The only reason my father calls me his son is because he’d never admit anyone on earth would have the audacity to betray him. Especially not the woman he fell in love with and made his wife.”
* * *
Gianni couldn’t believe what he’d just shared with her.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d talked about his heritage. If ever.
He turned to her now in the ever-growing darkness, fully prepared to see the pity on her lovely face. After all, how would someone like Laney Taytum, with her pedigree of perfect professionals ever understand what he’d just admitted.
But the expression Laney wore was one of clear concern. He wasn’t sure that was much better.