I place my hands at her heart. I can’t make myself say it but I hope that it’s enough.
She gives me a small smile and then adjusts herself. I’m pretty much slipping out. “Oh boy,” she says, looking down. “So I guess there was a good reason you haven’t had sex in this car. We’ve made quite a mess.”
I’m not proud to admit that a tiny part of me is cringing at the idea of having cum-stained leather in a million-dollar car, but I’m sure it will come out, and anyway, this was worth it.
She tries to wipe it off with her dress and then moves over to her seat.
“Okay,” I say, zipping up my pants and pulling my seat forward. We both buckle up. “Now that we had a little, uh, rest break, how about we continue on to my parents?”
At that she looks worried, quickly reaching back and placing her sunglasses on, as if it will hide all her sins.
Seventeen
Grace
Who are you? I say to myself as I stare into my compact, wiping away any smudges of mascara from underneath my eyes. I totally look like I just had a wild shag. My face is flushed, my pupils huge, my lip liner smeared. My eye makeup is a mess from having the scarf over it.
And I have no idea who I am anymore.
Not that it’s a bad thing, per se. I just know the Grace Harper of the past would never have sex in public. Twice. Doing it against those Roman ruins was one thing, but then fucking in his Ferrari on the side of the road? Who does that?
Robyn would have done that, I remind myself. And she would have told you all about it, and you would have lived vicariously through her. Now you’re doing the things she would have done. You’re out here living.
I dot powder on my shiny nose, blotting the perspiration on my forehead before I put the compact away. How is that the more sex I have with Claudio, the more alive I feel? Why didn’t anyone tell me that sex was the secret to a more interesting life?
But, of course, it’s more than that. If I can just focus on the sex for now, it will be easier.
“Almost there,” Claudio says as the car takes another bend.
“Do you have, like, hand sanitizer or something?” I ask him. I wiggle my fingers at him. “I don’t think I should be shaking your parents’ hands.”
He laughs. “Check the glove compartment.”
I open it, and find a compact bottle of … leather cleaner. Well, at least it will come in handy for the stain I’m sure will remain on the seat. I take it out and spritz it onto my fingers anyway.
“You are crazy,” he says, watching me.
“You keep your eyes on the road,” I remind him. “This all happened because you couldn’t stay focused.”
He licks his lips. “Oh? And that was a bad thing?”
I look away, but I’m smiling.
Then my smile fades as he slows and exits left onto a smooth dirt road bracketed by shrubs. Dust rises up behind us and the scenery opens up until we’re on a small peninsula, the shining blue sea spreading out on both sides.
“Down there, that’s Cavoli,” Claudio says, gesturing to the right. I stare down at the curving bay, the red-tiled roofs clinging to the hillside before they end at a pebbly beach, umbrellas and sun chairs lined up along it. The water is achingly blue, like a swimming pool, and everything looks like the quintessential Italian paradise.
“It’s beautiful.”
“There’s a path that leads down there from their house. It’s the only house on the whole peninsula. If you’re not too stuffed from my mother’s cooking, we can have an evening swim. The sun is out late.”
I nod but start playing with the edge of my seatbelt, trying to work out my nerves.
“Hey,” Claudio says, eyeing me. “It’s going to be fine.”
“You didn’t tell them we are, you know…” I ask, even though we’ve already talked about this. I wanted to make this trip as low pressure as possible.
He slows the car down as we crawl past a few low, scrubby trees and the occasional cactus. “No. I said I was bringing a friend.”
“But you didn’t tell them I was a writer?”
He shrugs. “No.”
“Why not?”
He wets his lips with his tongue, taking his time to respond. “They don’t like Jana all that much. I don’t want them to dismiss you off the