Page 73 of Capri

“What the hell is his problem?”

She doesn’t look defensive—more embarrassed. “I wish I knew. I think he decided pretty early on I meant very little to him.”

I could explode. “Then why marry you? Fuck, Capri. I’d castrate the guy myself if I could.”

She smiles softly. “I think Drew was in love with the idea of being married, while I was in love with him—at least at first, I was. He just thought he could have his cake and eat it too…with my best friend.”

“Does the fucking idiot have any redeeming qualities?”

“Afraid not.” She giggles, and I can’t help it; I reach for her hand.

“Capri, look at me.” Not one part of her looks weak at this moment. Her newfound strength is evident, but I wonder if anyone has told her just how incredible she is. “You’re doing great, sweetheart. I can see that, even after not knowing you very long. Putting yourself first can be challenging when you’re used to prioritizing everyone else. I’m proud of you.”

“That’s really sweet of you to say. I told myself after Italy that I’d discover who I am without approval from anyone else. It feels good to be doing that. Slowly but surely.” She exhales.

“I mean, look around you. This place is yours. You did it on your own without anyone else’s help. All from pure heart and hustle.”

“Heart and hustle,” she repeats after me. “I like that.”

My thumb traces the outline of her hand—delicate and soft. I smile at her lightly, soaking in her self-confidence. “You should start by getting a TV. How do you entertain yourself, woman?” I joke.

“Priorities, Jones. It’s called priorities. Besides, you’re one to talk. All you do is work.”

“I do. But not when I’m here.” I smile.

“You seriously trust Romeo and Luca to run the yachts?” she asks with a big smile on her face.

I chuckle. “Most days. They’re all I’ve got, so I don’t have much of a choice.”

“Speaking of being here…how’s your mom doing? I’ve been thinking about her.”

“You thinking about me, Capri?” I can’t help myself.

“Are you really so old you need to get your hearing checked?” she jokes. “Those aids need a good cleaning?” Her giggle escalates louder.

“Sorry. Couldn’t resist,” she redirects herself.

I can’t remember the last time someone asked me about my mother. It’s almost one of those situations where it’s out of sight, out of mind.

I’m not owed anything, but the fact that Capri was kind enough to ask means a lot to me.

“She has her good days and bad. Dementia can be a real bitch but I’m thankful she’s still here. Physically, that is.”

“God, Jones. I’m so sorry. I knew she was sick, but not that.”

I smile softly. “Don’t be. I don’t enjoy talking about it, but for you, I will. With you, it’s not so bad.”

“Think I can meet her someday?” Her question comes quickly, like she doesn’t need time to think it through.

“You want to meet her?” My voice portrays wonder because I’m taken aback. Capri wants to meet my mother, and I’m weak enough to let her.

She’s all but told me we will never work, leaving me nothing to gain from their meeting.

But the self-sabotaging side of me wants nothing more than for them to be in the same room together. I know destruction can only come from blurring the lines we once had placed.

“If that’s okay. I would never want to intrude,” she says, nerves audible in her voice. “I just want to know the woman who raised such a great man. Great friend, too.”

Add that friend title in there for safety purposes, sweetheart. I got you.

---