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I don’t answer immediately. I just breathe again.

There it is.

That smell.

God.

I forgot about that smell.

Warm earth and dry grass, hot pavement, fig trees growing somewhere nearby and underneath all of it, salt.

The Mediterranean Sea.

You can smell the fucking sea.

I close my eyes and take another breath and suddenly I’m eleven years old again. I’m holding Mamma’s hand, eating gelato too fast before it melts down my wrist while Papa yells at us to hurry up because we’re going to miss something, even though we’re never actually on time for anything when we’re here.

I’m running around with Chiara, our hands sticky from eating figs we stole from someone’s tree, our hair loose and wild, our skin tanned and salty.

I’m sunburned.

I’m barefoot.

I’m home.

“You okay?”

I open my eyes.

Jude is standing beside me, backpack over one shoulder, watching me with those green eyes.

I smile. “I’m more than okay.”

He studies me and something in his face softens.

Chiara walks past us dragging her suitcase. “Are you two planning on living outside the airport or can we go?”

I laugh and follow her over to the rental desk. We chose an SUV big enough for all five of us and let Dex drive.

As soon as we leave the airport and the sea comes into view along the highway, I feel tears fill my eyes.

“Oh wow,” Lexy exclaims next to me.

Jude, sitting in the passenger seat, is studying the sea too and I can see a small smile on his face.

“Don’t tell me this is your first time seeing the sea, Grumpy.”

“Once. Had to go to L.A. but...” He looks back at the water. “Nothing like this.”

“Of course not. There is nothing like southern Italy,” Chiara exclaims and we all laugh.

As soon as we leave the highway, the tiny roads are filled with people going to or coming back from the beach, walking or riding bikes. Scooters appear on every side of the car and Dex starts making hand gestures at them.

I laugh.

“You want to do it the Italian way?”

Dex lifts an eyebrow as he looks at me in the mirror.