We both started laughing, turning to face each other. I laughed even harder at the way he looked squished between the two pillows.
“At least you’re laughing now.” He grinned at me.
“I’m sorry.” I ran a finger down his nose. “I know how I can get sometimes when it comes to—and I’m sorry.”
“Talk to me about it.”
I lifted the arm that wasn’t underneath me and let it fall. The weight of what had happened earlier diminished some in light of the laughter, but I could still feel it there, pressing in its usual way. “I can’t. I close up, even when I think about it.”
“You ignore it.”
“Yes, or else it feels like it will eat me alive.”
“I want things to be different for you.”
That was close to an apology from the wrong man and it made my blood boil. “Don’t,” I said, feeling my temper rise. “Don’t you dare apologize for him.”
He studied me for a minute before he nodded. “I’d never apologize for him. I’m apologizing to you. You suffer and my heart bleeds.”
“Oh Dios!Oh Dios!Justo ahí!”
He sighed. “Do you think she realizes she’s speaking Spanish?” His makeshift earmuffs were no match for her ebullience.
“Probably not,” I sighed. “I never realize when I’m speaking other languages. You usually point it out.”
He threw off the pillows, sitting up abruptly. He rubbed a hand over his face and then through his hair. “Get dressed. We’re getting out of here.”
I didn’t even hesitate for a second. I only asked how to dress.For the beach. Scurrying to keep up with him, I threw my hair in a headscarf and squeezed into a dusk-colored swimsuit.
“I like that one,” he said, eyes roaming over me from top to bottom. He seemed to like me in purples.
I nodded, slipping on a pair of frayed jean shorts and sandals, then grabbed for my beach bag, quickly doing recon—thin blanket, towels, a change of clothes for him and me, music player, earphones, a book, my camera—just before he took my hand and propelled me forward.
As we opened our door, Rocco had his hand raised to knock. Rosaria stood behind him, yawning. “You as well?”
“Yeah,” Brando said. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”
It was decided that we would walk to the beach, take in the sunset, and then grab some breakfast afterward. Our escape spread throughout the villa like a wildfire. We were eighteen or more deep by the time we started to move.
I was a little disappointed when Lothario joined us. He had a habit of talking business whenever the mood struck. Rocco and Brando walked a few steps ahead, Lothario chatting low to them. Romeo walked next to me. Thomas, Guido, and a few other men pulled up the rear. The thickest part of our crowd walked ahead.
Stairs in Positano were epidemic. It was going to be a fifteen-minute or so trek down steps that took us on a sloping path to the beach. Some areas were steeper than others, and I utilized the metal bannister when possible. But I also loved to feel the burn in my legs, and by the time we’d reach our destination, body and mind would be invigorated, or ready to take a long siesta on the beach.
Romeo was quiet, almost reflective, as we made the journey side by side. He had been that way ever since Juliette left. I wanted to ask him about it but decided not to. Perhaps he didn’t want the reminder, or for me to bring it out into the open.
I busied myself with admiring all of the doors to the villas tucked into the stone archways along the many stairs. Sucking in a breath, I stopped and couldn’t move forward. The rear party almost slammed into my back. A door was set further into the wall, dark and dank, and something about it made my heart race and my hands grow clammy.
It was too dark to see past the arch leading into the space—it was as though someone hid behind the penetrating darkness, watching and waiting. It was so dark that I couldn’t even judge how deeply set the door was.
“Sissy?” Romeo called.
“What is it, Scarlett?” Guido said, putting a hand to my back.
“Scarlett?” Thomas asked.
Romeo made it up the one step that separated us, shooing Guido and Thomas back. The commotion must have made it to Brando, Rocco, and Lothario, who were three steps ahead. The three of them stopped, glancing up. Brando’s eyes narrowed and he made it to me in under a second.
“What’s wrong?”
