Page 41 of When Love Gives You Lemons
“Also, sorry, didn’t mean anything about the phone thing. I have a vacation rule where I like to unplug, you know? And Ricky isn’t much of a phone guy, but I don’t have to tell you that—” He winces. “But it’s mostly because I have a history of losing things, and it’s easier to find things that get lost when you’re home than when you’re in a foreign country, you know?” He chuckles, reaching behind his head to scratch his back, showcasing his armpit. “I’m rambling. I do that when I’m nervous.”
“You’re nervous?” I ask. “Why?”
“Aren’t you?”
“I wouldn’t say I’m nervous, more like caught off guard.”
“That’s fair. For what it’s worth, it’s nice to meet you. Officially. It was kind of awkward not really knowing what to say.”
“It was awkward, right?” I ask. “I didn’t know—”
“About me. I figured. Ricky told me you guys don’t talk.” Cam steps backward and turns around, bending over to grab his towel and his glasses. He presses them to the bridge of his nose. He dries his hair and drapes the towel around his shoulders as my anger builds.
Ricky told me you guys don’t talk.
Ricky talks about me with Cam?
What does Cam know about me? What secrets of mine has Ricky spilled?
What version of me does Cam think he’s meeting right now?
I want to shed my skin and get lost to the Tyrrhenian Sea.
Cam checks his Apple Watch. “It’s almost time to head into town. I’m gonna go check on Ricky. We should all hang later.”
Sure.Cue eye roll.
He holds out a hand for me, an official nice-to-meet-you gesture. I shake it because I don’t want to come off petty. With a smile, he releases my hand and heads back up toward the main villa, leaving me more confused and lightheaded than I was when I ambled down here.
I reach for my phone, abuzz with notifications, but Cam’s flip-flops echoing against the rocks inspire me to toss it aside, rip off my shirt, and jump into the sea, the burst of cold water the wake-up call I needed.
“Bon giorno, Vincenze. Come stai?” I wave to Vincenze in the villa’s grand foyer.
“Va bene, Signore Lemon! Wait here for the carts to take youinto town. Signora Sienna said to find your name.” Vincenze points toward the glittery box of scrolls.
“Grazie!” I palm mine and Matty’s, since he’s in no condition to do anything but hug the cold walls of the villa, pressing his cheeks against the stone, and sip cold water from his water bottle.
After officially meeting Cam this morning, I ripped his ticket to the lemon grove to shreds and flushed it, leaving zero evidence.
Oops.
But you know what, reader? He’s too perfect, and I don’t like it.
Something feels off. My Spidey-sense is tingling.
I need to remove him from the equation. Get Ricky alone. Again. But this time, I wouldn’t be going in blind. I need to go in a bit more armed. Do some reconnaissance. Find out some information on Cam, and then focus on repairing whatever broke between Ricky and me. Maybe getting some time with Ricky and the lemon farm might spark more meaningful connection, help me learn why he hates me so much, and we might actually have a chance.
Footsteps alert me to people coming. “Matty, look alive.” As my spy on the inside, having spent more time with Cam than me last night at dinner, he’s got more of an in, plus Matty has always been good at digging up information with a suave, spy-level eye for detail. Nobody suspects him due to his golden retriever himbo demure nature.
“Va funculo. My head.” He grabs me by the back of the shirt and tugs. “I’m not doing so hot after last night. How do I look?”
I swirl around and give him the once-over: Four-inch inseam jean shorts for the thighs, tight sleeveless tank with bright neonnineties design for the arms. White pleather fanny pack. Scuff-free white sneakers.
“You look cute, all things considered.”
He nods triumphantly. “Could be a hot dude at the tailor or the lemon thing.” Matty fidgets with his fanny pack. Then he nudges me. “Cam, twelve o’clock.”
Be cool. Unbothered. “Sup.”
