Page 52 of The Second Chance in the Mediterranean
Xavier gaveus a lift to shore, Seb under the guise of going for a walk and me to go shopping—both were true.
We waved goodbye as he puttered away from the dock, and as soon as Xavier turned, Seb threaded his fingers through mine and we exchanged a smile.
Together, we meandered through the old town, getting lost in curved streets that didn’t exist on Google Maps, and Venetian buildings that, despite the variety of pastel colors, all started to look the same.
Walking past a souvenir shop, Seb jerked on my hand, pulling me into an alleyway.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
Seb pressed me against the wall and looked back toward the street. “Clarissa’s in the shop across the way.”
“Oh?” I followed Seb’s gaze, my voice infused with worry.
But Seb had other plans. His fingers splayed against my jaw, pulling my focus back to him, and his lips brushed against mine, once, twice, and then we were indulging in long, slow kisses, my back against the stucco wall and Seb’s mouth all I could think about.
A throat cleared behind him, and we broke apart, my heart racing until I realized it was a judgmental elderly man passing us.
Seb pulled away and tugged me with him.
The streets finally spit us out into the town square. Horse-drawn carriages waited next to rows of parked scooters, and the fountains were rimmed with bright pink flowers. We crossed the park and climbed the highest point of the fort, getting a view of the bay andThemisbobbing in the teal water.
Seb leaned against the stone rampart. “Man, if eighteen-year-old me could see me now.”
I laughed, closing my eyes and tilting my face up to the sun.
“Halfway around the world,” he continued. “Beautiful woman beside me. And look at my home.” I opened my eyes as he gestured out atThemis.
“Hmm. At eighteen, I was trying to convince my mother that going to culinary school would be good for the orchard. And picking almonds on the weekends and running the café at night.”
“And now we get to go on our first date in Corfu.”
I tilted my head at him. “I don’t think this counts as a first date.”
“No?”
“Friends with benefits don’t get first dates.”
“Ah.” Seb pushed off the wall. “Let’s go get food anyway, date or no. I’m starving.”
It was a good thing it wasn’t a first date; we ended up stopping at the first spanakopita cart we saw and eating our pies as we walked the streets again. Once our bellies were full and our fingers clean, we popped into shops.
Half the shops were selling specialty food items. Seb and I took turns sniffing herbs or tasting honey or olive oil. I bought a few items for fun experimentation, like candied kumquats and lemon preserves.
“Hey, smell this soap,” I said as I turned around. Seb wasn’t there; instead Malcom, the engineer who worked under Edie, was stepping into the shop.
“Hey, Marcella,” he said, giving me an easy smile.
“Malcom, hey!” I said a little too loudly. “Doing some shopping?”
“Yeah, picking up gifts for my mum. How’s the soap?”
“The what?” He nodded at the canary-yellow soap I’d forgotten was in my hand. “Oh, right. Olive oil and sea salt.”
Malcom leaned in to sniff the bar just as Seb turned the corner of the aisle behind him. Our eyes widened at each other, and he ducked back behind the shelving.
“That’s pretty good,” Malcom said, and picked up a lavender soap bar.
I plopped mine back on the display. “All right, well, I’ll see you back on the boat,” I called over my shoulder as I escaped out of the shop. I turned left and walked a few meters down the road and waited. A few minutes later Seb came out, quickly swiveled his head to find me, and then trotted toward me, laughing.
