I lead her down the stone staircase, making sure she doesn't trip on the uneven steps. By the time we reach the mouth of the cave, the ocean breeze is beating against our skin. I take a deep breath of the salty ocean spray, letting it renew me.
Grace’s eyes are wide as she stares at the view.
"You like it, don't you?" I say.
"It feels like one of those places you only see in your dreams," she says. "I can't believe it's real."
I try to see it through her eyes. I've been here before. Every time I come here, I only think about how I don't come here often enough. It's a gorgeous black sand beach with tall cliffs on either side. The magic is all in the water. It's a turquoise so bright that it's practically neon.
"How are we the only ones here?" she asks.
"Because the beach only exists when there's low tide," I say. "Sometimes, it's flooded for weeks at a time. It's also dangerous to be out here during certain months, so you won't find it on any map. It doesn't even have a name."
"A beach without a name," she says. "It only makes me love it more."
She beams up at me now, finally giving me that same smile she gave Enzo earlier.
"Thank you for bringing me here, Dante," she says, walking toward the water.
I remain frozen.
My heart is racing so hard inside my rib cage.
A memory from my childhood resurfaces, escaping from the box I try to keep sealed. It plays before my eyes in technicolor, so vivid that my heart squeezes painfully.
My family and I were all sitting around the dining table, finishing up dinner. My parents were annoyingly in love with each other, and my twin sister was asking too many questions like always.
"Mamma,tell us the story about how you met Daddy," Ida asked.
"You already know the story," I said, helping myself to a little more of the risotto. Nobody made it like my mother did.
"I want to hear it again," Ida said, swinging her feet underneath the table.
My parents smiled at each other from across the table.
"It was a hot summer night, and I was working at the gelato shop," our mother said. "Your father was a tourist who walked in just as I was about to lock up. I told him he'd have to pick quickly, but he just stood there grinning and asked me to 'surprise him'. So I picked a random flavor, and apparently, that was his favorite. He claims that's when he knew I was the one."
My little sister smiled at our father, who continued the story.
“I knew it the moment he saw her,” he said. “We were both just out of high school, but I still knew that she was the one I wanted to grow old with.”
We didn't have much then. But we had each other, and it was enough.
Ida moves on to the reason she brought this all up in the first place.
"Daddy, what was the ice cream flavor?" she asks.
“Nocciola,” he answers, falling right into her trap.
"What a coincidence," she says. “Hazelnut is my favorite, too. Can we all go out for ice cream? Pleeeease."
"Dante?"Grace brings me out of the daydream. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," I reply, trying to exhale the weight of the past.
She looks like she wants to ask me about it, but she doesn’t.
"Are you hungry?" I ask, taking her toward the blanket that's been laid out for us. There's a picnic basket to the side, stocked with sandwiches and drinks.
