house, no matter how grandiose the location, or how beautiful the island, was too much for him. He insisted that he be allowed to spend the time at Paolo’s house.
After talking to Paolo’s parents, they were more than happy for Paolo to have company for a few days.
Which meant that I had Grace all to myself.
Okay, so it isn’t that simple. Of course we’ll be staying at my parents, and Grace has noted a few times that she wants us to give the illusion of being friends. I tried to tell her that my parents don’t care, but she seems to think the information will get back to Vanni or Jana, even though that’s not the case at all.
I have to admit, I’m trying hard not to get frustrated or hurt when Grace seems to be keeping me at a distance. Everything with her is so focused on sex, and I’m not complaining, but obviously things are getting more complicated than that. I just keep telling myself that I know where she’s coming from, and I have to remember that.
The ferry terminal to Elba is down the coast at the town of Piombino, and I spend most of our drive gunning it down the motorway so we can make the ferry on time. Of course, when we get to the terminal, it’s a confusing mess of cars, but eventually we get in line and then drive onto the ferry.
Grace wants to explore, so we walk about the ferry, getting a glass of wine in the cafeteria before we hit the outer decks.
“Wow, the breeze feels so good,” Grace says, smiling, her hair whipping across her sunglasses. She’s leaning against the railing, watching the waves crashing below us. She points to the landmasses dotting the horizon. “That closest one, is that Elba?”
I nod, standing next to her, shoulder to shoulder. I can never get close enough.
“Sì. And that over there is the northern tip of Corsica.”
“Have you ever been?”
I nod. “Yes, but I prefer Sardinia. Perhaps we can go one day.”
She licks her lips for a moment, then gives a nod. “Aye. There are a lot of one days, aren’t there?”
I slip my hand around her waist and pull her toward me, still marveling at how I’m allowed to touch her like this. “One days will always turn into the present, as long as you’re with me,” I tell her, nuzzling my face into her neck. I take in a deep breath of her orange and vanilla shampoo. She smells like happiness.
It’s not long before the ferry motors along the rugged coast of Elba and pulls into the harbor, at the town of Portoferraio. Grace marvels at the colorful red-roofed houses clinging to the cliffs and the tower of the old fortress before we have to head down to the car.
“So, did you grow up here?” she asks once we’ve departed the ferry and are burning around the traffic circles leading out of town.
“I did,” I tell her, adjusting my grip on the wheel. “Well, I was here until I was twelve. Then we moved to Lucca when my father decided to open the gallery. Not too far from where the villa is.”
“That must have been nice, growing up on an island,” she says.
“It had its moments,” I tell her. “My father prefers to be submerged in nature, but I personally can’t be too far from the city. My inspiration comes from people. Here, it is very beautiful, but there is a lot of peace and quiet. Even the tourists rarely find this place. They all go to Capri instead.”
The road quickly goes from suburbs to farmland, and then starts twisting as it winds its way along the curves of interior mountains. Grace seems besotted with the journey, the window down, wind in her hair, ruffling the edge of her short blue dress. The scent of rosemary and dry grass wafting into the car, and Grace has her eyes closed, breathing it in.
The warmth in my chest spreads like a rising sun.
I am in trouble with this woman. I know I am. I can’t even look at her anymore without having myself tested. And it’s not just my body being tested, even if I can resist looking at her pale legs or the soft curves of her cleavage. It’s my heart that’s being tried.
I’ve always been confident around women, and I’ve never had any problems attracting them. I think my appeal isn’t just my looks, but that I never seem to