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Matteo is leaning against his Vespa, waiting for us, and the moment he sees Chiara, his entire face changes.

Oh, for fuck's sake.

Damiano would have lost his mind.

Matteo says something to her in Italian, and she smiles at him in a way that makes me want to grab a bucket of cold water.

Yep. Definitely would have lost his mind.

Then Matteo turns towards me with a grin that immediately makes me suspicious.

“There's someone I want you to meet.”

“Who?”

His grin widens.

That can't be good.

We follow him a little farther down the road, past another old house surrounded by farmland. The hills are dotted with olive trees, and the sea is still visible in the distance, shimmering beneath the sun.

Then I notice the field beside the house.

Watermelons.

Rows and rows of them, their thick green vines spreading across the dry soil, enormous striped melons resting between the leaves.

I stop walking.

No fucking way.

I turn towards Matteo, and the grin on his face tells me everything I need to know.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Is this...?”

He nods, looking ridiculously pleased with himself.

I burst out laughing.

Jude looks between us. “What?”

“This is the neighbor.”

“What neighbor?”

“The one whose watermelons Damiano used to steal.”

Jude starts laughing. “He told you about that?”

“Of course he told me about that!”

I look back at the field, and suddenly I can picture it. A little Damiano with dark hair, scraped knees and that mischievous smile, sneaking between these exact rows with Matteo beside him, probably convinced they were the greatest criminals Sicily had ever seen.

God, I can see him.