Page 133 of Problematic Summer Romance

“Honestly?” Nyota says, adjusting to lay her head over my shoulder.

“Yeah.”

“This wedding was a fucking mess.”

“Yup.”

“And I’m no closer to becoming a rich dude’s kept woman.”

“Nope.”

“But, like…it was a good week.”

I close my eyes. Inhale the rose-scent of her hair.

“Yeah. It was.”

In keeping withthe rest of the week, the largest freezer in the villa comes to an untimely demise about twenty minutes later.

“Is this connected to the eruption?” I ask when I see Lucrezia’s boys schlepping heavy-looking containers onto the patio.

“I highly doubt it,” Avery says. “I think it’s just…”

“Another turbulent event in a long list of curse-precipitated occurrences?”

“I didn’t wanna put it like that, but I don’t think the Greek goddess of weddings has bestowed her blessing upon us. Anyway, they’re trying to rearrange the frozen foods, but it sounds like sacrifices will have to be made, so if you have any room in your stomach…” She points at four vats full of the gelato that has been garnishing my brioches in the mornings. Clearly, they need eating. Right now.

“What’s that cake over there?” Nyota asks.

“Wild berries and cream and some kind of pistachio filling. It was supposed to be for the rehearsal dinner, but…”

“Does it mean that we can have it?”

“I think it means that wemusthave it.”

Lucrezia hands us spoons and bowls with the solemn expression of a queen knighting a squire. Eli, Conor, and Minami are on the other side of the patio, laughing so hard, they look seconds away from pissing themselves. It’s a familiar scene, a decade-old memory—the three of them teasing each other and being utter assholes and saying things no one can hope to make sense of, not even Sul. Jokes that are so inside, they sound like insults. But it’s palpable how much they care, even when they’re angry or frustrated or fed up with each other. The way they’ll drop anything, forgive anything, accept anything.

“Watch out.” Avery points at the gelato melting down my spoon, across my knuckles. A perfect brown drip of bacio.

Conor said that it means “kiss.”

I take a breath. Sit next to Avery. “About last night,” I start.

She’s already shaking her head. “Oh, god. No, I…” Her grimace is contrite. “I had no idea you…It all makes sense now. I feel terrible about what I said back at the theater—”

“Don’t, please. I should have just told you that I liked him.”

We share a smile—one that starts tense, then turns sheepish, then morphs into kindness.

“It sounds like it’s a bit more than that,” she says gently, and I do not refute her. “I need you to know that I’m not in love with him, or anything. This won’t break my heart or create issues at work. I like him, but…Minami introduced us a few years ago. She told me how great he was, and when my ex and I broke up, I thought…Why not Hark? Minami vouched for him. It would have been…convenient.”

I nod, trying to listen and understand, keep my ears and my heart open, not to let the jealousy take over.

“He told me about you, you know?” she adds. “Last summer. On our second and last date. Had a couple of drinks and let it all out. Said he was in love with someone else. I assumed he was talking about Minami.”

“Oh.”

“It was dumb. It should have been obvious to me that he wasn’t talking about Minami when he mentioned that given the extent of his feelings for you, pushing you away was the only sane thing. That he was sure he’d end uptaking over your entire life and taking advantage of you.” She says the last bit with a slight Irish accent, and we both chuckle.

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