“How long will you be in the area?”
“Our honeymoon ends tomorrow.” Benny threads our hands together. “Bianca wanted to meet the people involved in our rescue operations.”
Domenico’s eyes soften. “Let me give you a tour.”
Hours pass on boats and meeting the crew. They were all happy to see Benny, sharing jokes at his expense to my delight. He’s a complex man with many layers, but he’s loved.
“How have the runs been?” Benny asks Domenico once we settle into his office. It’s a simple space with a desk and chairs, overlooking the port.
“Lost three days of work,” he says, scratching the white whiskers coating his chin. “We had another run-in with Libyan authorities, but no detainments. Our government is contesting the court rulings against it, imposing detention and fines on migrant rescuers. In my years at sea, I’ve left no one behind. I’ll never stop rescuing people who need help.”
Domenico is one of many fishermen who defy government orders to help migrants in distress. They’ve saved thousands, at the risk of their own capture and having their vessels confiscated.
“I’ll cover the lost wages for the rescue,” Benny assures his friend. “Andrea is working on a software update to alert teams if local authorities approach. If you need any help on a run while I’m here...”
“No.” Domenico shakes his head. “Enjoy your honeymoon. We’ve been splitting shifts with a few others. We’re okay.” His gaze flicks to mine. “How are you enjoying our town?”
I smile. “It’s amazing. The company isn’t bad, either.”
Benny kisses my hand from the chair next to me, threading our fingers together. Someone likes PDA.
Domenico’s wooden chair creaks under his weight and the wide grin pulling his lips apart. “I never thought I’d see the day Turi settled down. Welcome to the club, kid.”
We say our goodbyes and take our time walking back to the Turkish motor sailer he rented. Domenico was full of stories of Benny as an acne-faced teen whose voice hit all kinds ofhigh notes. Benny laughed more today than I’ve heard since fate threaded our lives together through crime and mistaken identity.
“I like Domenico,” I say.
Benny’s sharp laugh skips into the night sky. “I’m sure you do. I wish you could’ve met Sarina. She’ll be out with the mobile clinic around the province for most of the night. That’s the mission center she works at.” He points at a small stucco building in the distance. “The migrants Domenico and his team rescue go there for services.”
“That’s amazing.” Rocks kick up under my sandals on the stone pathway. “I met a server at Eden who wants to be a social worker to help migrants.”
“I’ll put her in touch with Sarina. They need help.”
Clouds skate across buckets of stars out of reach. Wind from the sea blows my backless dress. “Thank you for today.” I rub circles into his waist.
He squeezes me against his polo shirt with a kiss. “The break has been nice.”
“It has.”
“Want to stay for a few more days?”
“Is that a real question? Yes, if it doesn’t involve fishing for dinner.”
“We need to work on that.” He snickers. “You can’t be the wife of a fisherman’s son throwing your rod in the water.”
“It slipped!” I sulk. “Your parents would’ve loved me, regardless.”
“I love you.”
Those three words float to the constellations glittering above us. Goosebumps prickle my forearms. My heart sprints in rapid-fire beats, tripping my breath.
“You don’t have to say it back,” he says lowly, in an unsteady whisper. “There are parts of me that aren’t good.”
“I love them all because they give me you,” I admit.
Life has a funny way of telling you to aim high with your desires. Being with Benny feels more and more like home. There’s no place I’d rather be than in his arms.
My captor.
