Page 30 of Out of the Gold

Mark responds, “She is.”

I raise an eyebrow at her and she shrugs. Under her breath, she says, “I do like it.” We return to the dressing room and change back into our own clothes. Before we leave the tiny dressing area, she pulls me aside.

“What do you think Mark’s doing here?”

“If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say he likes you.”

Her shoulders raise. “Really?”

I laugh. “Guess you were too absorbed with the other’s PA to notice.”

“Well, maybe. I’m sure they’re gone by now, anyway. Why don’t we pay for our new dresses and grab a bite to eat? Then the beach is calling my name.”

We approach the grinning shopkeeper who says our niceuominialready took care of it. What men? We exchange puzzled glances and exit the boutique where Mark and Chase wait for us.

While Sophia chats with Mark, I study Chase. “Thanks for the dress. You didn’t have to do that.”

He rubs his nose. “It was nothing. And the dress looked very nice on you.”

Mark diverts my thoughts by pointing toward a building. “The rest of the group went into that pizzeria.”

Walking into theristorante, we place our orders and meander to the back where open-air seating is dotted with lush trees. I inhale the beautiful scent of citrus. “This place is amazing.”

“It really is,” Sophia replies.

We join a half-empty table—Mark sits next to Sophia, then me with Chase to my right—and enjoy the best pizza ever. Which is saying a lot, considering thisisItaly.

Jessa sidles up to Chase and kisses his cheek. “I’m hitting the beach. Anyone want to join me?” She preens, her perky breasts nearly poking Chase’s eye out. And everyone decides to join her, probably to see what floss bikini she’ll be sporting.

Because I want to rest and catch the sun, I agree. I’m definitelynotspurred on to see Jessa’s body on display, however. We take turns using the bathrooms as a dressing room, and I toss my boho dress back over my bathing suit. Soon we’re all heading toward the beach.

Mark walks next to Sophia, so I give them their privacy. He seems like a nice guy, but he’s an actor, which means he’s more about himself than anything else. He probably sees her as a means to a better camera angle in the movie.

I stop moving. That was a very unfair thought. Sophia’s an amazing woman and perhaps he sees that. Although . . . he is surrounded by beautiful women all the time. And he’s not known for having any long-term relationships.

When we reach the beach, we walk past an outdoor gym. Chase perks up. “Challenge you to a circuit, Mr. A.” He punches Mark in the arm.

“You’re on, Doc!”

The two of them go into the open-air gym and start to show off. I mean, jump on the various pull-up bars, fly machines, and other equipment. A bunch of the crew cheers them on, while Sophia and I set up chairs on the beach. A couple of pleasure boats sail by, adding to the perfect afternoon.

I point to the fluffy white clouds. “Thanks for making me come today. Positano has been wonderful.”

“What are besties for?”

I settle into the chair, ignoring when Chase and Mark abandon their workouts and rush into the water like the little boys they are. Instead, I slather on suntan lotion and recline. The sun soothes my nerves, relaxing me like before we arrived in Italy.

After a while, Sophia checks her watch. “We should be getting our stuff together pretty soon. We all agreed to catch the six o’clock ferry back to Amalfi.”

Sighing, my body absorbs the fact our trip is coming to an end. But it really rejuvenated me for the last stretch of filming. I stand and shake the sand from my towel. At my actions, Mark comes over and starts to talk with Sophia.

“I’m going to hit the restroom before we have to go.” The two of them wave at me, and I sling my bag over my shoulder and leave them be.

Once my personal business is finished, now wearing my dress once more, I step onto the walkway. Instead of heading toward the beach and the ferry, I go in the opposite direction. A cathedral up ahead had caught my attention, and I haven’t had a chance to visit it. Before I reach the door, my cell phone rings.

Fishing it out of my tote, my dad’s face smiles at me. I press the FaceTime button. “Hi, Daddy!”

“Hi, Princess,” he replies, his face somber.

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