Leo breathes slowly out, looking across at the bed, his shoulders slumped forward. Then his eyes close in resignation.
“Blanket wall?” he says, a wry smile on his face. “Then we both get some sleep.”
“I’d suggest we top and tail but I’m sure you don’t want my toes in your face.”
Leo’s wry smile widens.
“I’m honestly offended you’re worried about it,” I say, pulling open the minibar fridge and fishing out a mini-bottle of wine. “Do you think I’m going to ravish you in your sleep, for fuck’s sake?”
“Put that back,” he says.
“Youareafraid I’m going to ravish you in your sleep,” I say.
“No,” he says, shaking his head. He leans over and unzips his bag,pulling forth a bottle of champagne in a chilled sleeve. He touches it. “Ice-cold, still.”
“What’s that?”
“This is a Gambino Winery Spumante,” he says. “I thought this might be the right moment to celebrate the end of the first chapter—so to speak.”
I am touched he bought a bottle of bubbles for the ride. “Are you sure? You looked a little green around the gills today.”
“I’m okay. We can rest in Tuscany.”
I gaze hungrily as he strips off the foil and then unwinds the metal cage on the cork. A moment later, it’s popped and he’s pouring the cold, bubbly deliciousness into two glasses. I bite my lip as he pours, pausing to allow the bubbles to settle. Then he looks at me and grins.
“To us?”
“To us,” I say, smiling, while I picture reaching across and slowly unbuttoning his shirt, running a finger across his bare chest. I have to steady myself slightly on the countertop.
“Better find your sea legs, Olive. We’re not even moving yet,” says Leo, watching me stagger.
16
LEO AND Iare halfway through the Spumante when I head into the bathroom to change. What Ishouldbe doing is putting on a long-sleeved T-shirt and a pair of trousers, but instead I come out in a pair of very short terry-cloth shorts, red with a white stripe, and a white tank top. I have shaved my legs and applied a thin layer of tinted moisturizer and a little lip balm. It’s a fine balance between ready for bed and just-in-case ready for action.
Leo takes one look at me and then looks quickly back at his book.
“You all done in there?” he asks.
“Yep. Your turn,” I say, settling into the seat next to the little porthole window.
Leo emerges from the bathroom in a short-sleeved pale-blue-and-white-striped cotton PJ set, still clutching his paperback. It is ridiculously adorable.
“A present from my aunt.” He laughs.
“I’m looking forward to meeting her,” I say, my feet up on the round windowsill as the boat chugs its way across the sea to Rome.
The sun is setting, and the long strands of cloud are deep red and orange. I try not to be too offended when Leo rolls up the spare blanket and then arranges and rearranges it in the middle of the bed. The whole thing is a silly performance really. We’re adults. When he attempts a second construction using his own pillow as reinforcement, I start to laugh.
“What?” he says. “Yousaid blanket wall.”
“Looks a little overengineered,” I reply.
He gives up with a chuckle, tossing the pillow back down, and takes a sip of his sparkling wine.
“It’s not too much for you, is it?” I say suddenly, feeling worried I’ve pushed him. “Be honest. We can still do shifts on the top deck.”
“If it’s cool with you, I’d prefer a bed,” he says, the corner of his mouth quirking. “Even if it’s with you.”
