But this thing with Roarke…
I flop onto my narrow bunk, staring at the ceiling."Jules, I'm forty-three years old.I'm too old for workplace romance disasters and too old to pretend they end in fairy tales and gumdrop dreams.”
"You're also too old to be living in your ex's apartment in Sorrento," Bianca points out."Isn't that why you took this job?To get enough money for your own place?"
She's right.
After Ricardo's affair with the food blogger client from the yacht charter we’d both worked on, I'd been stuck crashing in the apartment we'd shared, too broke to afford the deposit on something new.
This job was supposed to be my ticket to independence, not another complicated entanglement.
"Besides," Julianna adds, "Mamma and Papa would have loved this.Their little sea sprite finally back on the Mediterranean, falling for someone who actually appreciates her."
My throat tightens at the mention of our parents.
They'd died when I was sixteen, their dream of sailing around the world cut short by a drunk driver in Naples.
But they'd given us fifteen years of homeschooling on various boats, showing us that life could be an adventure instead of an itinerary.
"I'm not falling for anyone," I lie.
"Sure you're not," Bianca laughs."And I'm not currently painting a portrait of the hot guy from the marina café."
A knock on my cabin door saves me from further interrogation."I have to go.Roarke's grandmother is taking us to lunch."
"His grandmother?"Julianna perks up."That's serious girlfriend territory, Mia."
"It's not serious anything.It's lunch."
But as I hang up and open the door to find Roarke waiting in the corridor, looking devastatingly handsome in linen pants and a blue shirt that matches his eyes, I'm not sure I believe my own words.
Three hours later, I'm sitting in a charming bistro overlooking Cannes harbor, completely enchanted by Mémé Ada, who's regaling us with stories about Roarke's childhood while Isla feeds Captain Feathers pieces of her croissant.
"He was always so serious, this one," Ada says, patting Roarke's hand affectionately."Even as a little boy, making lists and organizing his brother's toys by color."
"His brother?"I ask, glancing at Roarke curiously.
Ada's expression grows wistful."Daniel was the opposite.All laughter and chaos, like our little Isla here."She reaches over to squeeze Isla's hand."He would have loved seeing you so happy, ma petite."
Something passes over Roarke's face, a shadow that makes my chest tighten.
"Daniel sounds wonderful," I say carefully, sensing delicate ground.
"He was Isla's papa," Ada says gently.“Roarke’s younger brother.My grandson.We lost him in a sailing accident last year."
The words suck all the air from my lungs.
I look at Roarke, seeing the careful mask he wears, understanding now why he needs such control, such order.
"I'm so sorry," I whisper."I didn't know."
Roarke's jaw tightens.“The man truly was fearless.”He glances at Isla who’s too busy cooing at Captain Feathers.“She’s all him and none of me, that’s for sure.”
"Nonsense!"Ada says firmly."You’re the best parts of Isla.The parts with stability.Love.Protection.And look what Daniel's fearlessness gave us."She smiles at Isla."Sometimes the best gifts come from taking risks, but sometimes they come from the courage to stay and fight."
As the afternoon fades into evening, Ada announces she's taking Isla and Captain Feathers back to her villa for a sleepover, despite Roarke's protests about propriety and schedules.
"Pah!"she waves him off."The child needs grandmotherly spoiling, and you two need to stop looking at each other like teenagers afraid to hold hands."
