Page 32 of Italy Can Bite Me

“Must be hard being apart.”Why am I pushing this?

“Yes, but that’s why I’m documenting everything.”

“Always prepared, aren’t you, principessa?” I study her profile against the lake. “Bet you’ve never forgotten a birthday or missed a deadline in your life.”

“Being organized helps me feel grounded.” She blinks, as if she startled herself with the admission. “I don’t know why I just told you that.”

“Maybe you’re finally succumbing to my Italian charm.” I wink.

She rolls her eyes, but I catch the hint of a smile.

“Have you filled out your Wish Card yet?”

“No, honestly, I haven’t given it much thought.”

Something tells me that’s a lie. I get the sense that she’s overthinking it, but I drop it. We fall into a comfortable silence, the kind that feels as natural as breathing. Katie leans back, drinking in the view, and I do my best not to stare at her… I’m failing miserably.

Lake Como is showing off today. It’s like being in a lover’s dream—all sparkle and seduction under the golden sun. The water now parts smoothly for our boat, as if welcoming us into its embrace. Majestic mountains shoot up around us, their peaks kissing the sky. The air is clean and crisp with a hint of pine. This is no ordinary view; this is an experience that seeps into your soul.

What the tourism websites don’t mention, however, is that this stunning water is ice-cold and will have your teeth chattering and your… parts shrinking, no matter what month it is.

Katie takes a big breath, and it’s the first moment I’ve seen her unwind. This is why I do this—unveiling Italy’s beauty and watching people fall in love with it the way I have. Even when my bank account’s crying and my bus sounds like it’s saying its final goodbyes.

But right now? All I can focus on is how the light plays across Katie’s features. She gazes out at the lake—lips curving ever so slightly—eyes reflecting the calm waters. The quiet wonder on her face hits me square in the chest, and before I know it, I’ve got my mother’s old Nikon in hand.

CLICK.

Her head whips around, eyes flashing. “Did you just—”

“Sì.” I check the preview screen. Perfect. The light, the composition—the way her profile angles against the backdrop of mountains, she’s fucking gorgeous.

“Delete it.” But there’s curiosity in her voice.

I hold out the camera, close enough to feel the warmth radiating off her skin. “Look first. Then decide.”

She takes it carefully, and I notice her face as she studies the image. I’ve caught her in a rare unguarded moment.

“This is…” She trails off, touching the screen gently.

“Breathtaking?” I lean closer. “That’s because you are, principessa. Even when you’re trying to kill me with your binder.”

A blush creeps up her neck, and damn if I don’t want to trace it with my tongue. She keeps her eye on the camera, but I see her pulse jumping at her throat.

“You are actually talented,” she says softly. “I mean, really talented.”

“Don’t sound so surprised. I’m more than a pretty face and the best tour guide you’ve ever had.”

The boat’s engine sputters, jerking us to a sudden stop. Without warning, the jolt sends Katie’s precious binder hurling across the cushions and off the side of the boat.

“No!” Katie lunges for it, but she’s too late.

I don’t think. I dive.

One thought blazes through my mind as I launch myself over the side:That binder is her everything.

SPLASH!

Holy mother of frozen fuck.

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