They start up a dirt path that snakes around a squat visitor center. A bird with inky black feathers and a bright white beak skims the tops of the foliage before landing in the nearby water with a splat. Michelle, who’s trying and failing to get her land legs back, identifies it as a coot.
“Where are the picturesque gardens and villas? The decadence? The opulence! I need it. Icraveit,” Selina says, casting a disapproving eye around the reedy expanse interspersed with purple sprigs of wildflowers.
“In the sixties, a count owned the island and built a villa using existing structures, but in the seventies, the island became public again. This is a protected wildlife oasis overseen by the province of Perugia,” says Dario. Charlie can sense Selina rolling her eyes even behind her humongous sunglasses.
The day swelters around them, but Charlie holds excitement close to his chest. This is his first time on an island. LandlockedPennsylvania has nothing on this sort of natural wonder. He relishes getting to watch Dario play tour guide again.
Their first destination is a pentagonal fortress with watchtowers at every corner. Sandstone and limestone stack up into the sky. Dario leads them inside, where they climb centuries-old stairs to the top walkways that give them an aerial view of the lake and the surrounding land. The factory was stunning, but this structure takes Charlie’s breath away. He snaps a photo on his phone.
“Would you mind taking one of me?” asks Selina, coming up beside him and glancing at the picture he took. “I had to fire Michelle. I think she’s purposefully trying to make me look bad now after my oily comment. I thought I was being helpful. I didn’t realize she’d be touchy about it.”
“Sure,” Charlie says, stowing his phone away and accepting Selina’s.
“Where do you want me?” she asks.
He glances around for the perfect spot, nervous he’s going to do a lousy job. “How about by the watchtower?”
Once she’s situated, she smooths down her top and pokes a long leg out from the part in her sarong. “Tell me when.”
Selina, a total professional, tilts her head up to find her natural light. The sunrays kiss her already-bronze cheeks like they are thanking her for existing. Charlie counts down from three, then takes a bunch so Selina has options.
“You have a good artistic eye,” Selina says afterward.
“You think so?” Charlie asks, uncertain of the compliment.
She nods and flips her long black silky hair over her shoulder. “You wouldn’t believe the number of photographers I’ve shot with who don’t understand lighting or composition. When I’m working solo, I’m the subject of the image, but everything in the frame needs to tell a story, especially in fashion editorial, whichI’m doing more of. I can’t stand artists without confidence or vision.”
“I can understand that,” Charlie says as they walk on, feeling bad about how he assumed she was singularly self-involved. It sounds like her quest for beauty isn’t out of narcissism but about creative satisfaction. Charlie relates to that life goal.
Up ahead, Dario looks out on the lake with reverence, a small smile playing on his lips.
“I feel the same way about men,” Selina says almost conspiratorially. She whips around so she’s in front of Charlie. He trips over his own feet at the sudden roadblock. “Tell me. Is Dario a confident kisser?”
“Oh, um—” Charlie fumbles for words. He’s never been one to kiss and tell.
“¿Fue tan malo?” Selina asks.
Even though Charlie doesn’t remember much Spanish from his school days, he understands her meaning from her torqued expression.
“No, it was good. It was nice,” he says, uncertain what she’s looking for. He’s not about to explain how his heart thundered, his pulse raced and his head spun with newfound feelings. That would be too embarrassing.
She purses her lips like she doesn’t believe him. “Who made the first move?”
“I did,” he says.
She sighs. “I assumed so. I do prefer to be chased, but my mother would say ‘Selina, ponte las pilas.’ I need to get going if I’m going to get my man. Hasta luego, Charlie!”
Down the walkway, Selina hooks Dario’s arm in hers, tugging him into a stroll. Once they disappear from Charlie’s line of vision, a stab of jealousy punctures him in the gut.
Last night, as he kissed Dario, it was easy to forget all about the other contestants. Easy to forget that they were not the onlytwo people on the entire planet. But now, without a clear view of what’s happening between Selina and Dario, Charlie’s mind runs wild and his stomach sours.
Selina has high-up connections in the fashion world and legions of followers to sweeten the marriage deal for the chocolate maker. Charlie has no dowry to speak of. No platform or influence or flair for public image. Plus, Selina hasn’t seemed all that serious about Dario until now, acting more like someone who just enjoys flirting as opposed to someone who could settle down if a proposal were made.
Next to the fortress is the Church of San Giuliano. Charlie kneels and prays for patience and objectivity to get him through this week. He signed up for this, and it is going to be an uphill battle.
Literally.
The next part of the hike takes them up through a picturesque olive grove. Stout, bushy trees bracket them as they weather the incline. Beau splits off from the water-glugging pack and stomps through the tall grass. He plucks an olive from a low-hanging branch.
