“I say ten,” I counter at once, reaching for another pebble.
For a while we’re silent, concentrating on the task. But at last we have a teetering pile of ten stones. Dutch reaches his hand out to high-five me, but impulsively I shake my head.
“One more! Let’s make it eleven.”
“Eleven!” Dutch raises his eyebrows teasingly. “I like your style. Go on, then.”
As I reach for another pebble, I suddenly feel ridiculously nervous. I know it’s only a game, but we made this pebble stack together, and I really don’t want to knock the whole thing down when I could have settled at ten. In fact, I’m not sure why I even wanted to add another pebble. I guess it’s that voice inside me, constantly asking, What else could I be doing?
Tentatively, I place the new pebble on top and withdraw my hand—and it stays put!
“Result!” Dutch lifts his hand again, and this time we do high-five and I feel absurdly elated at our joint achievement.
“This takes me back to my childhood,” says Dutch lazily, lying back down on his towel. “I love architecture, design, that kind of thing. Guess it began with building sandcastles on the beach.”
“I used to love building sandcastles on the beach!” I say eagerly. “And I love design too. I collect interesting furniture. It’s, like, a hobby of mine.”
“Furniture?” Dutch lifts his head with interest. “What kind? Because I’m—”
“Wait!” I cut him off with a horrified gasp. “Sorry! I shouldn’t have said that. We’re not supposed to reveal our hobbies.”
“Too late.” He chuckles.
I’ve also just hinted that I live in England, it occurs to me. Honestly, I’m rubbish at this.
“I’m not necessarily from England, by the way,” I say quickly. “I might have been double bluffing. Maybe I don’t even have a permanent abode.”
“Aria.” Dutch shakes his head incredulously. “Do we need to stick to the rules?”
“Yes! We need to try, at least. Only one personal question each, and you still haven’t asked yours. But here’s an idea,” I add in sudden inspiration. “Let’s talk about the future. When you’re ninety, what will you be doing? Give me a snapshot.”
“OK.” Dutch nods and thinks for a moment. “I’ll be looking back over a full life. I hope I’ll be content. In the sunshine somewhere. The good sunshine,” he clarifies with a quick grin. “And I’ll be with friends, old and new.”
He sounds so sincere, I feel a little pull at my heartstrings. He could have said so many other things. He could have said, “I’ll be on my yacht with my fifth wife.” That’s what Russell would have said. In fact, now I recall, that’s what Russell did say.
“That sounds perfect,” I say in heartfelt tones. “And…same. Good sunshine, friends around me. Plus I’ll be eating ice cream.”
“Oh, so will I,” says Dutch at once. “For sure. The only reason I came on an Italian holiday is because of the ice cream.”
“What flavor?” I demand.
“Is that tomorrow’s personal question?” counters Dutch, and I laugh.
“No! I’m not wasting a personal question on that. Forget it. I don’t need to know.”
“Shame.” His eyes crinkle at me. “Then you’ll never know how much I love nocciola.”
“That is a shame.” I nod. “And you’ll never know how much I love stracciatella.”
I lie back down on my towel, too, and Dutch’s hand idly strays over to take mine. Our fingers enmesh and I can feel his thumb circling my palm, and then he’s pulling me all the way over to his towel and finding my mouth with his.
“You taste better than nocciola ice cream,” he murmurs in my ear.
“You don’t really mean that,” I murmur back, and Dutch seems to think.
“OK, tied,” he allows. “Tied with nocciola ice cream. And you beat mango sorbet.”
“I beat mango sorbet?” I open my eyes wide in mock-amazement. “Wow. I don’t even know what to say. That’s a compliment I’ll never forget.”
And of course I’m joking…but at the same time I’m speaking the truth. I’ll never forget this charmed, intoxicating, sunlit day.
As afternoon turns to early evening, we finally stir. We’ve been lying, kissing, dozing, and idly chatting all afternoon. As I get up, my limbs are stiff and my legs are patterned with the imprint of twigs, but I can’t stop smiling dreamily.
We gather our things and head back toward the car and, as we do so, pass some teenagers playing a game of football on a stretch of scrubby land. The ball suddenly veers toward us, hitting