Page 22

Suddenly, a hand on my shoulder and a familiar voice breathes life into me.

“Fielder, you’re okay—” It’s more of a statement than a question, more of a mantra of reassurance for the one delivering it.

Ricky. “I got you.” Concern pools in his eyes. “Are you hurt?”

“What—” I can’t say more. Words and meaning elude me.

“I saw the whole thing happen. I didn’t realize it was you until I got closer.

” Ricky moves down my body, his hands inspecting every inch of my legs and arms before moving to my head.

“No blood. Nothing looks broken.” He grabs the water bottle from the stranger who kept wiggling it in front of my face expectantly and uncaps it for me. “Drink, you look pale.”

“I’m fine.” When I try to stand, my legs give out. “Actually, water sounds great.”

He brings the bottle to my lips, places a hand on my lower back to steady me.

I can barely choke down a few baby sips.

Looking up, I focus on Ricky. The sweat on his brow. The concern etched into the lines next to his eyes. The way he folds his lips inward, and his teeth bite down in worry.

“When’d you get here?” I offer a smirk.

His lips unfurl and he lets out a phew . “You’re okay.”

I grab hold of him for support. “I’m more embarrassed than anything.”

The owner of the Vespa tosses his hands in the air in my direction, a bit too violently for my liking, slams his helmet back onto his head, and revs his engine before taking off. Though he doesn’t get far before people start yelling at him and tossing food in his direction.

“Nothing for you to be embarrassed about. He’s the asshole.” Ricky sneers in the Vespa’s direction.

As my eyes steadily focus, Cam steps forward. Suddenly I’m hyper aware that Ricky is still holding tight to my sweaty hands.

“You okay, Fielder?” Cam crouches down beside me. He grabs hold of the other side of my body to steady me or make his presence known as I still cling to his boyfriend.

“So glad you’re okay,” Cam says. “I saw the whole thing; that driver was a lunatic. That was scary.”

“Thanks . . .” I don’t know what to say.

“Ric, your sister is looking for y—” Monroe says. “What the hell happened? Fielder, are you okay?”

Ricky looks to me for permission to leave.

“I’m okay, go.” Though I don’t want Ricky to leave.

Cam hoists me up.

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“Least I can do after the tailor this morning.” He opens his arms for a hug, which is weird as hell, especially since I might have just caught him cheating, but in the spirit of being peacemaker, I let it happen.

Tyler and Benny look on confused as Cam whispers, “I can tell Ricky still keeps you on a pedestal, despite everything that’s happened. ”

My heart thump-thump-thumps against my rib cage.

I pry myself out of his arms. “What—”

“I was there for him when you broke him,” Cam says.

I have no idea what he’s talking about. Cam clearly has everything twisted.

I wasn’t the one who dumped Ricky and left without a trace.

“And I was nervous coming here. I thought maybe you’d try to get back together with him or something, but after this morning .

. . I had it wrong. He was right. You are a good guy. ”

So Ricky told him I broke him, yet he keeps me on a pedestal?

My head hurts.

It feels a bit like Cam is trying to get in good with me, and I wonder if it’s because he saw me following him earlier.

I don’t know what to believe or think.

Out of the corner of my eye, Monroe runs over to the Coven and the rest of the guys, including Matty, to relay what happened.

Within an instant, they’re all descending on us.

At the same time, three golf carts with lemon-yellow bodies and bright green tops with “Avello Family Lemon Groves Tour” stamped on each side pull up in front of Piazza del Duomo, and anxiety builds in my chest.

“What the hell was all that?” Matty asks, as I recount everything that happened to him and Monroe, who sits next to Tyler. We’re all sitting backward in the rear of the cart to the Avello Family Lemon Groves.

“What are you gonna do?” Monroe asks after I finish.

The Lemon Tour–branded golf carts carrying the entire Lemon wedding party and both of our families, including the screaming Coven who are so loud their voices carry up and through the thick mossy forests of the Valle dei Mulini, zip up the Via delle Cartiere, leaving the teeming swaths of tourists behind for quieter, narrow streets in the same direction as the villa.

Ivy and roots cover short white stone buildings that almost look abandoned.

The road is barely wide enough for any golf carts, let alone two, but I close my eyes and let the sun beat down on my face, and I focus on my breathing and taking in the crisp scent of citrus and salt in the air.

“Earth to Fielder.” Monroe elbows me. “Where are you?”

I’m watching Ricky and Cam laugh together in the golf cart behind mine.

“If what Cam said was right, that Ricky keeps me on a pedestal, is that why Cam would cheat? Assuming he is, which, I have to tell Ricky, right? And tell Sienna that I was cold and using the wedding for clicks and fame? Is he threatened by me somehow?”

“That does make sense, I think,” Tyler says. “And I dunno, man. I wouldn’t get involved in their relationship. That’s playing with fire.”

“You could come across as the jealous ex,” Monroe says.

“You need proof that Cam is cheating,” Matty says.

“I don’t even know what I saw. It’s all fuzzy now.” I rub my temples, wondering if it would even matter. “Can two people still know each other after a long time apart?”

Monroe hums. We hit a bump in the rocky road, which aids her in swiveling her body toward me. “You’ll always know a version of that person.”

“I find it hard to believe that after knowing him for over twelve years, us being apart for a year means we’re suddenly strangers.”

“Can’t both be true?”

This is too big of a conundrum for my brain to work through.

“Are you the same person you were when you were together?” she asks, and I shrug. “Do you think you are? Keep in mind, I met you two days ago, so you can tell me anything you want and I’ll believe it.”

“Sometimes. Ricky always had his woodworking dreams and a mentorship that took him to Seattle. Meanwhile I was all ‘L-O-L, I’ll become Clock famous.’ ” I make peace signs with both hands.

“Sure, I actually managed to monetize my account and gain, like, a million followers since we were together, and I have this internship I’m gunning for, even though I haven’t done a damn thing for it, but I still feel like I’m floundering. I’m a joke.”

Matty smacks me. “You’re not a joke. Don’t say that about yourself. A couple years ago, you never would have done anything without Ricky. Now, you do everything on your own. You just don’t see it because you’ve had no choice but to do everything on your own this past year.”

“Sometimes we can’t see our own growth,” Monroe says.

The thing is, I’m not sure I have grown—I’m no closer to figuring out my life now than I was last year.

Each golf cart stops in front of a congested area full of parked Fiats and other short, stout cars, some with wooden flatbeds in the back for carrying fruits and other goods to market, made specifically for tight European streets.

“Is this where we die?” Monroe whispers.

“I’ll protect you,” Tyler says, hopping out.

“I’ll protect myself, thankyouverymuch,” Monroe says.

I high-five her. “Werk.”

“I-I didn’t mean—” Tyler stutters. “Sorry. My sister would punch me if she heard me. I was just—”

“Flirting,” Monroe finishes with a lip cringe. “Do better.” She winks, then links arms with me and pulls me toward a man who waits under a small faded wooden sign that reads Avello Family Lemon Groves Tour hanging from a trellis of vines and white flowers.

Ricky and Cam are off to the side, arm in arm, and my stomach sours.

Tucked in the middle of a valley, far away from the busy center of Amalfi and the crashing waves of the sea, tall lush green mountains envelop us on three sides, looming over us like we’ve entered an entirely new province.

Next to the almost hidden entrance to the towering strata of luxurious groves that climb the foothills is an inconspicuous doorway that’s currently closed with an aged metal sign that says Museo in gold script.

“Benvenuto!” A middle-aged man with olive skin dressed in a floral Hawaiian shirt and lemon-shaped sunglasses stands arms outstretched, beaming ear to ear.

“Welcome to Avello Family Lemon Groves Tour! I’m Niccolò Avello, the owner of Avello Family Lemon Groves.

I hear we have a special occasion today. ”

“We’re getting married this week.” Sienna rests her head on Topher’s shoulder.

“Wonderful, moltissime felicitazioni!” Niccolò doesn’t know us personally, but he seems genuinely happy for them.

“Grazie,” Topher says, extending his hand.

“Va bene, va bene.” Niccolò shakes it vigorously. “We are going to take you up into the mountains, through the groves, and end the tour today in our museo and limoncello factory before heading up to the outdoor kitchen for fresh homemade lemon pasta, va bene?”

“Amazing,” Topher says. “Not sure Nonna can do all the stairs.”

“Nonsense.” Nonna pushes her way in between Topher and Sienna. In Italian, she says what I think is, “I let no man speak for me. I can walk.”

Niccolò holds out his arm for her. “I’ll escort this beautiful woman myself.”

Okay, that’s a baller move.

She makes sure to squeeze his bicep. For an older man, one certainly far too young for Nonna but who could easily be my father’s age, Niccolò Avello is a chiseled statue of a man.

The sun hasn’t aged him the way I would think being out in the sun all day would.

Time has carved him, but carefully. Etched in his dark skin are wisdom lines.

His hands are massive, and I notice his skin is cracking and his fingernails are dirty, no doubt a byproduct of farming.

He looks a lot like actor Jon Hamm, but with a choppy, unruly haircut that sticks up in odd places.

“Get it, Nonna!” Sienna yells.

Nonna turns and winks, then tells Sienna to mind her business. “You have your man; let an old lady live.”

Niccolò laughs. “I like this one.”

“You can keep her,” Zia Gab yells. “Wait, no, I’m single. Take me!” She pushes Zia Rosa and Ma out of the way like we’re at a cutthroat rose ceremony in The Bachelor .

“I propose with a lemon?” Niccolò bows.

Ma, Zia Gab, and Zia Rosa audibly swoon.

“But my wife might have words,” Niccolò says. “We’re going to have fun today! Andiamo! Before we head on up, I’ll take the tickets, per favore.”

One by one, we all rummage through our scrolls and hand over our personalized, embossed tickets to the Avello Family Lemon Groves. Niccolò counts each ticket, then counts the number of heads, and cross-references the ones that are printed with each person’s name and the list he was given.

Everyone hands theirs over, except Cam. Who scrambles through his collection of papers, rummaging through the pockets of his skinny jeans, bag, and, for good measure, searching the ground like a cartoon character in dramatic fashion as if it dropped.

“It’s not here,” Cam says. “I don’t think I got one.”

I swear, dear reader, everybody held their breath at once. Except Nonna, who sucked at the roof of her mouth and shook her head.

Topher steps in to bargain. “It’s not a big deal, right? I can buy another for Cam.”

Cam steps forward. “You know what, it’s fine. I’m not feeling particularly welcome today. First the tailor, now this. If it’s all right, I’d rather go back to the villa and relax by the pool. I’m not feeling so well after Fielder—”

Heads turn to look at me.

After a few awkward beats, he says, “The Vespa accident. Shook me up.” I can’t explain it, but I know he’s alluding to me catching him potentially cheating on Ricky, and now his comment about Ricky keeping me on a pedestal and that I’m a great guy all feel icky as hell.

“I’m exhausted and it’s been a lot. I—don’t feel welcome. ” Cam grabs Ricky’s hand. “Babe?”

Nobody says anything or knows how to respond.

“I need you here,” Sienna says to Ricky. “You can’t leave.”

“I have to stay.” Ricky’s voice is fragile.

Cam’s nostrils flare, but he nods in agreement.

“Cam, you should stay, son,” Riccardo Sr. says, his voice stern.

Cam offers a smile. “I appreciate it, sir. But I’ll pass. You all have the best time.”

“We will. Take the villa’s cart back.” Riccardo Sr. nods toward the carts that Topher paid to have waiting for us later, not attempting to bargain.

He turns his back immediately and says loud enough for everyone to hear, “I won’t let anyone ruin my baby girl’s day.

Let’s get this show on the road, shall we? Andiamo.”

“That was weird,” Trav says, clutching Jenni Lee. I nearly forgot they were here. They’ve been sucking each other’s faces quietly in the background.

“Gays are so dramatic, am I right ?” Jenni Lee says. “Like, right on cue!”

I turn to glare at her. Did she really?

Monroe leans in and whispers, “Problematic Jenni Lee strikes again.” She clears her throat. “Not cool, JL. Not cool.”

Jenni Lee waves Monroe away.

“Don’t feed the trolls,” Benny says. “Can we all please be done with the dramatics for today.” He rubs his belly. “I’m hangry. All the wedding hysterics and rom-com operationals have gotten to me. I’ve had it.”

“Andiamo,” Niccolò says, waving the Lemon-DeLuca clan into the groves.