Page 27

“I’m happy for me, too.”

I chuckle. “Just enough.”

At the same time, we both say, “Quanto basta.”

“Do you love him?”

“Fielder? What? I mean, no, why would you—”

“No, Cam?” she cuts me off. “Your boyfriend . . . ?”

“Oh, yeah. Um.” I take a deep breath.

She rests her hand on my arm. “If you have to think about it . . .”

“I care about him. A lot. But I’m not there.

He’s a great guy, and it feels like something we’re definitely working toward, you know.

” As I’m speaking, it sounds like I’m giving myself a pep talk before a big game, pumping up to make myself think I can do the impossible.

The irony isn’t lost on me, and it certainly isn’t getting past Sienna because she’s glaring at me with the most intense stare I’ve ever seen.

“And he knows that. I’ve been very up front about where we stand. I’m—”

“How long have you guys been together?”

“On and off for, like, six months. Ish.”

“I want you to be in love love,” Sienna says. “You deserve that.”

“You deserve what, babe?” Cam says, walking up beside Topher. A curious pair.

“The world.” Sienna beams, seeing her fiancé. “The hottest man in Italy!”

“He certainly is!” Cam wraps his arms around my shoulders and kisses the top of my head.

Topher puffs his chest out in a show of masculinity. “Vincenze has our ride to Ravello leaving soon, babe,” he says to Sienna. “You look gorgeous, as always.”

“Hey, Sienna,” Cam says. “Before you guys go, I already spoke to Topher, but wanted to tell you, too—I’m sorry about earlier.

I know it wasn’t your fault about the tickets to the lemon farm thing, and I didn’t mean to cause a scene.

I didn’t mean to make it weird or—” His hands and voice are shaking.

“I kind of felt left out, like I was being singled out or something. I talked to Fielder too, to get an insider’s perspective. He’s an actually good guy.”

I can practically read Sienna’s mind: Don’t sound so surprised!

She nods slowly, eyes wide. “No need to apologize at all. It was clearly an oversight on my part. Do me a favor—check everything and make sure your personalized yacht pass is there before Thursday, just in case we have to call ahead. I double-checked everything, but mistakes happen, clearly.”

“Clearly,” Cam says, and I hold my breath.

Awkward.

Sienna clears her throat. “Cool, well.” Wrapping me in her arms, careful not to smudge her makeup, she says, “Smell you kids later. I have a hot date.”

Topher salutes us both.

Once gone, Cam wedges his legs next to mine. “How was the lemon thing?”

My lizard brain immediately goes to Fielder. “What lemon thing?”

“The farm?”

“Oh, it was nice. Fun.”

“A man of many words, as per usual.” He kisses my cheek.

“What did you mean by that, when you said Fielder’s actually a good guy?”

Cam’s brows crinkle. “Nothing.” He lets out a breath. “You didn’t really have many nice things to say about him when we started dating.”

“I didn’t?”

“You were heartbroken, babe. Don’t you remember?

Shut off from his life completely. How he was addicted to his phone, being so ‘online,’ which always bothered you, but couldn’t be there for you when you needed him.

” He laughs. “You were pissed last night after talking to him, which you still didn’t tell me what happened between the two of you, and the day before, too, leading up to the flight, you were anxious and moody thinking about seeing him.

What happened today that changed all that? ”

He’s not wrong. I came here hell-bent on never speaking to Fielder again. I did not see a way forward with him. Not after Fielder’s no-contact continued to wreck me in ways I never imagined possible.

But that’s the thing about Fielder Lemon:

One look from him, and no matter the devastation, I’m hooked back in, despite not wanting to be.

“Just trying to keep the peace for my sister.” I kiss Cam. “Thanks for apologizing. Means a lot. I know it wasn’t easy.”

He shrugs. “It’s important to you. And I’m the right guy for you, right?”

“Why do you always ask me stuff like that?”

He kisses the tip of my nose. “Like what?”

“Like if you’re the right guy for me?”

“Just making sure.” Cam gnaws at his thumbnail, chewing on it. “I’m gonna go take a shower before dinner. Wanna come?”

“Mind if I write for a bit?”

“I didn’t know you write. Where’d you get that?”

“I, uh, got it at the gift shop today.”

Cam admires the journal. “Beautiful. I wish I knew Italian. Teach me one day?”

“Va bene,” I say.

“What did you say?”

“Okay.”

“Va bene,” he repeats with a smile, and it makes my stomach cramp. After getting up, he bends down to kiss me, but before he leaves, he says, “Also, did Fielder say anything to you after I left the lemon farm?”

“About what?”

“Oh, nothing. Thought maybe he might have mentioned our, um, hug after the Vespa took him out. It was a real blended family moment.” His voice goes up at the end, the way it does when he lies. I wonder what he’s lying about.

Instead of doing the hard thing and digging, I finish what I started writing because for the first time in a while, I’m inspired. I’ll figure the rest out tomorrow.

FROM THE NEW JOURNAL OF RICCARDO DELUCA

“QUANTO BASTA”

Nonno used to make fire

fuoco, zucchero, acqua, limoni

he taught me to measure twice, cut once, quanto basta

to be patient, learn his stories with ears and heart

zest ‘til my hands ache—

sneak a bite of the rind, sweet white flesh, and pulp—

drop peels into a large glass jar

fan the flames for seven days

because fire requires time to spread, amore mio

and on the sixth day, boil acqua

add zucchero until it dissolves

for more hair on the chest, add more acqua

for a sweeter finish, add more zucchero

quanto basta

cool overnight, and in the morning

make a wish, quanto basta—

—che cosa vuoi?

When it’s ready, serve chilled with the boy you love

at night under the stars by the Sea

I’ve sipped limoncello with Nonno,

I’ve had an Amalfi lemon,

I’ve been to the Sea,

but you—you’re more elusive,

one none can equal,

the perfect amount

not too much

not too little

Un sogno, un giorno

quanto basta