Page 29 of Better Than Gelato (Ciao Bella #1)

Chapter Eighteen

I watch the rolling hills glide by my window, green and glowing in the early morning light, as I try to forget my conversation with Brianna.

Spring is making a tentative entrance, and we’re heading to Cinque Terre for a day of hiking.

It’s barely past dawn and the train is quiet.

Jake sits next to me, holding my hand. Paolo and Valentina are snuggling in the seat in front of us.

Carmen is reading a book, and Diego has fallen asleep next to her.

“You doing okay?” Jake asks. He tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear. “Are you still feeling anxious about your dad?”

I nod vaguely. I haven’t told him that I’m not going back to school in the fall.

That I’ll be spending the rest of my life in my hometown.

Seeing the same twenty people pick up and drop off their dry cleaning.

Going to the grocery store and the movies and bumping into all the other kids from high school who never managed to get out of that place.

“What do you think about Greece?” he asks, breaking my depressing train of thought.

“If you’re talking about Greece the country, I love it,” I say. “If you’re talking about Grease the musical, not a fan.”

“Greece the country. I found some crazy cheap tickets from Milan to Athens. What do you think about going for a week before we head back home?”

My mouth drops open. A week in Greece. With Jake.

“A MILLION times yes!”

I kiss him to let him know how brilliant he is, but he breaks away mid-kiss.

“What do you have against Grease the musical?” he demands. “It’s John Travolta at his finest.”

I wave the question away, already jumping into planning mode. “We’ve got two months left. I'm going to save up all my nanny money. Plus I still have some birthday money I didn’t spend at the market.”

Jake smiles. “Juls, we’ve talked about this. I love treating you.”

“I know. And you’re exceptional at it. But you can’t pay for the whole trip.”

He tilts his head a little. “Why not?”

“Well…because…it wouldn’t be fair.”

Jake is smiling at me and to his credit, it’s not a patronizing smile, just a sweet one.

“I know you have piles of money.” I wave my hands to indicate piles of money, “but I can’t be a freeloader the whole time.”

“You are not a freeloader, but I appreciate where you’re coming from. What if I cover the costs, and you take care of the planning? Research the best places to visit and find the coolest things to do?”

I think about this. “I am a great planner. Okay, deal. But I get to pay for our first dinner out. I’m going to find someplace incredible and treat you.”

“Deal.”

Our train drops us off at Riomaggiore, and I snap a picture of Paolo, Valentina, Jake, Carmen, and Diego. We stretch our legs, tie our sneakers, then find the trail to Manarola and start walking.

The air is chilly and smells like wildflowers. This part of the trail is less like a hike and more like an easy stroll, paved and flat. We’re flanked by grape vineyards on the left and the shimmering Mediterranean on the right.

Paolo leads with Valentina next to him, holding his hand. It makes my bestie heart happy watching them. I’ve definitely noticed a change for the better in Paolo. He smiles more. And he’s a lot nicer to Diego.

Carmen strolls along with me and Jake, and Diego brings up the rear. He keeps stopping to look at things—a cool rock, a butterfly, a tree that looks like a tree by his house—and then catching up with the group.

While we walk, Jake tells us about the mouse he named Felix in his lab. Valentina tells us her cousin is getting married. Diego gives us a play by play of the soccer match he watched on TV the night before. Before long, we arrive at the charming town of Manarola.

“Should we get some gelato?” I say. “I feel like we deserve it.”

“It’s 9 a.m.,” Paolo says.

I stare at him unblinking.

“Which is a great time for gelato,” he finishes.

Jake laughs and takes my hand. “Meet back at this fountain in twenty minutes?”

The group agrees, and Jake and I head off to find a gelateria. Jake gets cantaloupe, and I get raspberry, and we take our tiny cups of heaven to a bench overlooking the ocean.

“So, pretty exciting for Valentina’s cousin,” Jake says.

I have no idea what he’s talking about.

“Getting married?” he prompts.

“Right.”

“So…” he looks out at the ocean, then at a tree nearby, then finally at me. “You mentioned a long time ago that marriage wasn’t part of your plans for the near future.”

I nod. When I don’t add anything to that he says, “I guess I was just, you know, wondering why.”

Fair enough.

“My two older sisters got married when they were twenty. One is unhappily married. The other is unhappily divorced and drowning her pain in alcohol with reckless abandon. I’m not interested in either of those paths.”

“Those aren’t the only options, you know,” Jake says.

“I know. Which is why I’ve always planned on doing things differently. Finishing college. Growing up. Taking the time to create a life for myself before I attach it to someone else’s.”

Jake nods. “That makes sense.” Pause. “I’m sorry about your sisters.”

I shrug. “I can’t do anything for them but learn from their mistakes.”

We meet up with the group and find the next part of the trail toward Corniglia. This section is twice as long as the last part, but the trail is still easy, and the time goes by fast. There are more vineyards here, and no matter how long I look out at the ocean, the view never stops dazzling me.

The town of Corniglia is filled with little shops and cobblestone streets.

Jake looks at me. “Gelato?” he says.

“Yep,” I say back.

“We’re going to find gelato,” he tells the group. “See you back here in twenty.”

We enjoy our gelato at a table in the shade. There are a few boats sailing off the shore, and we watch them quietly.

“You know how you don’t want to talk about what we’re going to do in June?” Jake says as we settle onto a bench.

He keeps trying to have terrible conversations about the future but so far, I’ve managed to avoid most of them.

“Yeah…”

“What if we talk about after-June?”

“After-June?” I ask.

“Yeah. Instead of working out all the logistics, if we do long distance, if one of us will relocate, let's assume we’ll find some way to make this work. We’re smart people, we’ll figure things out. So let's jump to five years from now. What should we name our sailboat?”

I can’t help smiling. “We have a sailboat five years from now?”

“I think we should. Don’t you?” His dimples are dimpling, and I lean over and kiss his cheek.

“I do,” I say. “And we could name it Straciatella.”

“Straciatella?” He looks unconvinced.

I hold up my straciatella flavored ice cream. “It’s a great name for a boat.”

“I think we should keep brainstorming,” he says.

We talk about pets, and by the time we meet up with the group we’ve agreed on two dogs and a cat, with the possibility of a python as long as Jake doesn’t have to feed it.

The next section of the trail is closed due to a mudslide, so we go by train to the next village.

We rest our legs and enjoy the view. We eat lunch in Vernazza and afterward, Paolo and Valentina offer to check at the tourist booth to see if the last section of the trail is open. Diego and Carmen rest in the shade.

“We’re going to find some gelato,” Jake says. “We’ll meet everyone at the main piazza.”

Paolo narrows his eyes. “Is gelato code for something else?” he asks.

“We wouldn’t tell if it was,” I say.

But really, we just love gelato. And the stuff they make here is especially delicious. I choose hazelnut and Jake goes with lemon cream.

The last stretch of the trail, Vernazza to Monterosso, is harder than the first two. There are steep stairs and twisting switch backs. It takes us about an hour and a half, and we’re all drenched in sweat by the time we finish. Diego flops down on a bench as soon as we make it into town.

The town of Monterosso is the biggest of the five towns and has the nicest beach. We find a public restroom and change out of our sweaty hiking clothes and into our swimsuits.

Even though Jake and I have been dating for seven months, we’ve never been swimming together. I look at my reflection in the scratched mirror of the beach restroom, and I’m very aware that Jake has never seen me in so little.

I’ve worn this turquoise bikini a dozen times, but it felt different in Southern California. I adjust the bottoms and the top, but it doesn’t help.

“ Ragazze , can you help me?” Valentina calls from her stall. I go in and see her struggling with the ties around her neck.

“It keeps coming undone,” she says.

Probably because your boobs are so big.

That seems like the sort of thing you’re only allowed to tease about if you also have big boobs, which I don’t.

So I keep my mouth shut. I tie a double knot at the nape of her neck and then we both look at her in the mirror.

She’s wearing one of those vintage one-piece swimsuits with the boy cut legs and the sweetheart neckline. She looks like a 1950s pin-up model.

“Do I really have to go out there like this?” she asks.

“Valentina,” I say, “if I had a body like yours, I would only wear that swimsuit. To go to the beach, to run errands, to pick up Isa from school.”

She laughs. “Of course, you have gorgeous long legs.”

“Valentina, you are a total smokeshow. I can’t wait to see Paolo’s face when he sees you.”

Valentina smiles at this. “Yeah, I don’t think men are as critical as we are.”

“They aren’t,” I confirm.

“Are you guys ready?” Carmen asks, coming out of her stall. She’s wearing a coral one piece that’s ruched on both sides, with a colorful sarong wrapped around her waist.

“ Si, siamo pronte ,” Valentina says. We are ready.