“I will!” he says. “I want to come to London. Maybe one dayyouneed a chef?”
“Anytime, Luca,” I say, laughing, kissing him on the cheek.
15Tuscany
EVERYTHING IS FRANTICon the ferry to the mainland. There are kids, prams, families, dogs, mountains of luggage, and very little clear information as to where we are going.
I fish in my handbag and grab my phone, pulling up the information on the booking. “We have to look for cabin 243.”
I do a double take—there’s only one room. Am I sharing a cabin with Leo? Shit. Of course I am. He and Dad were probably going to share.
“Leo, did you get your own cabin?” I say, calling out to him as he bustles with the other boarding passengers into the small corridors that lead toward the cabins. He doesn’t hear me.
“What is your cabin number, Leo?” I try again.
“You said 243, right?” he calls back, arms full.
“Yes!Myroom is 243,” I call out, my heart picking up pace a little.We’re sharing.
We wander endless corridors until Leo stops outside a small silver door and dumps the bags, rubbing at his shoulder as he waits for me to join him. I’m dawdling. I am both terrified and thrilled at the prospect of being forced to share a room.
I push the door open, and Leo follows me in. Ahead there is a large porthole window looking out across the ocean. Beside the window are a television and a minibar, and opposite the window sits one double bed.
“How the other half live, eh?” Leo says. Then he sees my face, my cheeks scarlet. “Oh shit. Are webothin here?”
“What a cock-up,” I reply, trying to look upset, when all I can think about are the things I could do under a blanket with Leo on a gently rocking boat.
“One way to put it,” he mutters, raising an eyebrow at me.
I try to sound as outraged as him. “Absolutely terrible oversight. Who was in charge of the booking?”
“Yourdad,” he says, stating the obvious. “I was meeting him in Florence, so of course it’s just one cabin.”
“I’m sure he’s cackling down at us,” I mutter, trying hard not to laugh now. “He loved a misadventure.” I glance over at Leo, who looks vaguely panicked. Better rein it in.
“Well, let’s make the best of it,” I say, with the cool determination of a Scout leader during a hailstorm.
“Okay,” he says hesitantly.
Leo looks at me, his brows furrowed. There is a long pause. “I’ll just go up on the main deck.”
“No,” I shoot back a little quickly. “I couldn’t do that to you.”
“Olive,” he says sternly, his own cheeks taking on a pinkish tinge. “I’ll just go up on the main deck. This isn’t going to work, is it?”
I should agree to this.
“Just stay in here with me,” I say, betraying myself, heart thumping in my chest. “We can figure something out. The bed might be two singles pushed together.” I lift the blanket and am a delirious mix of concerned and excited that it is,in fact, just one bed. “We can build a blanket wall.”
“A blanket wall?” he says, unconvinced.
“I’ll feel so guilty, I won’t sleep if you’re up there,” I say, cursing myself for my traitorous tongue.
“It’s okay, Olive,” he says, his mouth firm. “I’ll be fine. I’ll just crash out on one of the seats. I’m so tired I think I could sleep on a horse.”
I frown at Leo and then start to second-guess myself. Would he rather spend twelve hours on the top deck, upright and rigid, than spend the night in a room with me? This is embarrassing, and I have to stop insisting.
“We’re doing six hours each, then,” I say firmly. “You first, then I’ll swap with you. You’re already hungover and exhausted and you’ll be no use to anyone tomorrow if you don’t get some sleep.”
