Page 42 of The Road to You
Matteo chuckles from his spot near the helm, where he’s pretending not to eavesdrop. “Don’t worry,bella. Moretti only calls me when he wants to impress a woman.”
I throw a friendly shut-up glance at him.
Lena raises a brow, turning to me. “Oh? Should I be flattered or suspicious?”
Her teasing tone hides a bit of curiosity. I wonder if she wants to know how many women I’ve brought here.
I pick up my wine glass, holding her gaze as I take a slow sip. “A little of both.”
She raises an eyebrow, taking in my comment. She doesn’t prod further, and I crave being alone with her to see where this teasing will go.
She laughs, shaking her head as she reaches for a sandwich. “God, I’m starving. Swimming is exhausting.”
I grab one, too, taking a bite. The bread is still warm, the mozzarella soft, the basil fresh. This tastes like home, like summer, like something simple and perfect.
Lena sighs in satisfaction, closing her eyes. “Why does everything taste better in Italy?”
“Because it actually does.”
She hums in agreement, swinging one leg over the other, and her foot brushes against my shin. It’s nothing, an accident, but I feel it anyway. Like every small touch from her that sinks into my skin, leaving something behind. The image of her sprawled over that bench, completely naked, while I savor every inch of her skin, makes a surprising appearance in my head. If I keepgoing down this path, I’ll need to swim to the hotel to soothe the ache in my groin.
“So,” I say, resting my elbow on the back of the bench, “what’s the plan when summer ends?” Something I’ve been dreading asking for days now, but can’t ignore anymore.
I don’t expect her face to fall, just for a second, like she hadn’t considered it. She places her sandwich back on the plate, wiping her fingers on a napkin. “I guess I’ll go back.”
“To Los Angeles?”
“Yeah.” She pauses, twisting a ring around her finger. “I mean, that’s where my life is. My home, my career…”
I watch her carefully. “But?”
She exhales, glancing out at the open sea, as if the horizon holds the answer. “I don’t know. I haven’t really made plans. No auditions lined up yet. No projects in the works.”
I lean forward, resting my forearms on my knees. “Is that normal? The waiting?”
She nods. “Oh, yeah. There’s always waiting. Always uncertainty.” She twists her lips in a wry smile. “Some actors fill the gaps with small projects, commercials, voiceovers… Some just hold their breath and hope something comes along.”
“And you?”
She hesitates, then shrugs. “I guess I’m somewhere in between. It’s weird. I should be panicking by now. You know, like Hollywood forgot about me while I’m here enjoying my life. But for some reason, I’m not.”
I watch the way her fingers trace the condensation on her wine glass. “Because of this summer?”
She nods, looking almost guilty. “Yeah. It’s like…everything outside of here doesn’t feel real. I haven’t had to think about press, auditions, industry bullshit… I’ve just beenliving.” She gestures to the boat, the water, and the coastline beyond us. “And now that I’m thinking about it, I don’t want it to end.”
Her confession surprises me, and something heavy settles in my chest. I shouldn’t let that happen. I shouldn’t be thinking about what it would be like if she didn’t leave. That’s insane. We’ve known each other for barely two months.
But the idea of her getting on a plane and going back to Los Angeles, back to a world where I don’t fit, where I’d be nothing more than a summer fling she remembers fondly, makes my stomach twist. And the worst part is that I have no right to feel this way.
I clear my throat, pushing the thought away. “Then don’t go.”
Her head snaps up. “What?”
I force a smirk. “Stay in Italy. Start a new career. Maybe Matteo needs a deckhand.”
Matteo barks out a laugh. “She’d bring in more business than you ever did, Moretti.”
Lena snickers. “Oh, I’dloveto see that. Me, working on a boat, pretending I know anything about tying knots or…what do you even call the parts of a boat?”
