He kissed me gently, his hand shaking a bit as he pushed back my wet hair. “You’re so beautiful. You don’t see how special you are, Livia. You’re blooming like a flower and it has nothing to do with me. You can do anything with your life, and I hate myself for getting worried and jealous that I’m going to lose you. I picture your life back in New York, and the new friends you made, and wonder if you’d ever be able to give all that up to settle here with me.” He blew out a breath and his next words broke my heart. “I’m afraid I won’t be enough for you.”
“You are,” I said fiercely. The moon glowed bright above us, squeezed amid the burst of stars. My friends’ voices carried in the air, light and carefree, separate from the sudden intensity of our conversation. “The plan hasn’t changed, Rafe. Yes, I’m enjoying school more. But I’m enjoying Positano—my second home—just as much. I love the friends I’ve made here, and how I’m better at the language, and how I don’t get lost anymore or panic when I’m alone. Remember my promise? I meant every word. Don’t give up on us.”
His face relaxed, and relief poured through me. He believed me. For now, his doubts were clear. I knew there were going to be ups and downs with us as we navigated a long-distance relationship. I had my own insecurities—sick with jealousy when I saw Rafe talking or laughing with another girl, spinning stories of how she was trying to take him away from me. But I was busy enough to distract myself.
Rafe was alone here with his thoughts and ideas of what I was doing at college. Plus, he probably kept thinking of his past and the woman who left him. I burned with anger at her. She’d been the one to tear him apart. That was why he questioned our commitment—he was afraid it would happen again.
But it wouldn’t. We were halfway there. In two years, we’d finally be together.
He sighed in my ear and goose bumps prickled my skin. “I’ll never give up on us, Livia. Even if one day you end up leaving me. My heart will always belong to you.”
His words made my head spin. We kissed, the worry fading away for both of us, and then our friends motioned us out of the water. We held hands and ran to the beach, donning our clothes, high on the moon and the midnight swim and the feeling we had the world captured and laid at our feet.
And for that one beautiful night, we did.
chapter seventeen
Dev
The shopping trip was epic.
She was careful with her expenses because living in New York City was a budget breaker. The future was as important as the present, in her mind, so every dollar she made needed to stretch to accommodate savings, Roth plan, bills, and fun. Dinners out were critical due to needing a social network for dating and staying abreast of current news at NYU. Usually, frivolous stuff like clothes, shoes, and jewelry were cut.
But not today. Today, they were on her sister’s dime.
She didn’t even feel guilty indulging in the gorgeous handmade leather sandals at one of the shops. The lady only spoke Italian, but her products spoke a universal language. Fashion. They all grabbed a pair—Pris going with classic camel brown, Bailey snatching up pastel beaded slingbacks, and Dev choosing a beautiful fringe with no heel.
Stalls with vibrant-colored pottery demanded a viewing. They fingered the smooth, glossy textures of hand-painted lemons on ceramic and urged Pris to buy a full set of pasta bowls to be shipped back home.
As they walked down the sloping, narrow streets crowded with tourists, a sense of contentment settled over her. The buzz of Italian in her ears, the leisurely pace that settled her nerves, reminding her that at this moment, no one needed her attention. The slight breeze caressed her cheeks. Scooters zigzagged in and out. The blue of the sea stretched before her in magical glimpses as they explored.
She’d forgotten what this felt like. In New York, she adored the bustling city full of excitement and possibility. It was her home. But right now, there was only the moment unfolding before her, and her responsibility was to just be here to witness. It had been a long time since she experienced this odd sense of freedom.
“Oh. My. God.” Bailey gasped and pointed. “Moda Positano! We are so getting our jam on—let’s go.”
They tested fabrics in cool cottons and elegant linens, spun from the best in the fashion world. The clean smell drifted to her nostrils, reminding her of one of the special candles she loved to light to make her apartment smell like fresh laundry. Dev helped her sisters compile outfits, pulling out light and airy lacy dresses; fancy cover-ups with beads and tassels; long skirts that skimmed the hips and fell in soft folds around the ankles. Each piece was a vision of beauty.
Dev couldn’t resist.
Hands full of bags, they stopped and bought perfume—a delicate floral scent tinged with citrus—and matching new wallets in deep burgundy leather.
Finally, they stumbled to Caffè Positano and grabbed a table overlooking the sea. Dev ordered a limoncello spritzer and gazed out at the water softly lapping at the shore; the crush of bodies on the rocky beach; the slow, smooth slide of boats as they made their way out of the harbor. It was pure magic, too much for her to take in, and a nest of emotions stirred deep inside her, desperately looking for a way out.
She frowned and sipped her drink.
“What’s the matter?” Bailey asked.
She turned sharply, surprised her sister had noticed anything. She’d forgotten how sensitive Bailey was to the moods of others. Probably a wonderful asset for her acting career. Or job. Bailey never seemed to focus long enough to make anything a career. “Nothing.”
“Come on, tell us the truth.” Her blue eyes sparkled with happiness. “I’m drunk on shopping and Italy. We promised to try and open up to each other, remember?”
Ah, crap. Feelings again. She hated them. They were so . . . messy. “I’m just happy.”
Bailey blinked. “That’s what made you look so intense? Isn’t that a good thing?”
Usually, she’d jab back at her sister and shut down the entire conversation. Opening herself up never seemed tempting, but with the sun shining down and contentment buzzing in her veins, she decided to answer. “Yeah, but it’s also uncomfortable. I’m not like either of you. Big ups and downs aren’t my jam. I like routine, order, and steadiness. I know it sounds crazy but . . .” She trailed off, not wanting to share the rest.
Pris leaned in. “No, go on, Dev. Tell us.”
“I try to avoid things that make me too happy. Because I figure anything that good will eventually lead to something really bad. It’s easier to keep to my lane, where I can control things.” Her cheeks heated with embarrassment. “Forget it.”
“No, I get it,” Pris said. “Makes sense to me. Even growing up, you always loved order. It satisfied you. Remember your Legos?”