“Um, guys? Anyone want to cancel? We can go to the beach instead and get one of those fancy chairs and umbrellas. Cool off in the water. Doesn’t that sound like a better idea?”
They’d just gotten to Nocelle, a tiny town approximately fifteen hundred steps above Positano, and were staring at the crooked sign that led to the famous hike Sentiero degli Dei—the Path of the Gods. The walk was known for its stunning views and difficulty, mostly endurance-wise, as it was a three-hour journey. The path was 2,156 feet up, carved out of the steep cliffs and mountains twisting around the sea. Dev had been pumped last night after her walk with Hawke, focused on accomplishing one mandatory sightseeing experience.
Bailey shot her a puppy-dog look. “Come on, Pris, it’ll be fun. We need an adventure—getting to the top will be epic! Imagine your pics.”
“We can always go to a beach—this is unique to the Amalfi Coast. We’d be crazy not to experience it. Plus, I heard you were running miles every day, so you better not be complaining,” Dev said.
“You hate hiking,” Pris reminded her. “You complain about the steps all the time. What if you get halfway there and collapse?”
Bailey giggled. “Then she’d be the biggest loser ever. She’s not overweight, she doesn’t have any health issues, and she’s not even forty. If Dev can’t do this, I’ll never let her live it down.”
Pris tamped down a sigh. And . . . there they went again. Dev jumped at the bait. “Oh, right, like you’re some kind of gym rat? You eat junk all day—for breakfast you ate a bunch of pastries.”
“Because they’re the standard Italian fare for the morning! And how would you know if I eat junk? You don’t track my diet.”
Dev gave a sniff. “Are you kidding me? You’d beg Mom to make brownies or cakes or cookies every single night. No matter what type of candy I had lying around, you’d steal it. I had to rotate my stash every week to keep you on your toes.”
“You’re exaggerating.”
“Remember when we’d go trick-or-treating and you ate all my Hershey bars? I think there were like a dozen you gulped down, got sick, and still lied about it. And the lame Starburst you left behind didn’t make me feel better.”
“You cried to Mom. The world doesn’t like snitches, Dev.”
“The world doesn’t like thieves, Bae.”
Pris put up her hands. “Stop. If I’m stuck with you for the whole morning, we’re going to practice the game of silence. Let’s allow nature to work its healing magic, shall we?”
“Fine,” Dev muttered.
“Don’t even pretend you didn’t take my Kit Kats. I used to count them and there was always one less every night,” Bailey said.
“Enough!”
They shut up. Pris tamped down a groan. “Fine, we’ll do the hike. But we’re rotating the backpack. I’ll start.”
“It’s only some water and snacks,” Bailey reminded her. “We’re not hitting the Appalachian Trail. Why are you nervous?”
“I’m not. Let’s go.” She took the lead and set a steady pace. It was late morning, and the sun was beginning to rise higher and shine stronger. A slight wind soothed the sweat from her brow. For now, they were alone on the trail, but she’d read it was extremely crowded in summer, so she expected to meet groups of people as they moved forward.
She wondered why she didn’t want to do this hike. It wasn’t like her. Dev was right—she was in shape, so it wasn’t a physical block. Normally she was easy to please and always went along with things. No conflict seemed worth fighting over, so she got used to swallowing her opinion because it was easier.
It was probably the phone call with Garrett last night. The memory stirred like the leaves on the thick trees lining the woodsy-type path. He’d been so distant. Asking the same polite questions, which she politely answered. How was the house? How was Italy? Were they going to sell? Was she having a good time? Was she getting along with her sisters?
He’d gotten livelier after she told him they were keeping the house. He’d initiated an argument warning against the idea, and taking Dev’s side. She listened, then told him they’d already made up their minds, and the discussion was closed.
But why hadn’t she told him the reasons behind the decision? How she believed it had been Mom’s sacred place and they wanted something to honor her by? What was holding her back from talking truthfully with her husband—a man she still loved? It was as if their relationship had somehow become a cocktail party—it looked elegant, well-mannered, and physically beautiful. But underneath? There was nothing of value left.
Maybe there was nothing left to save. Maybe that was the true reason she was so damn sad and lost. She didn’t want to accept this final loss—the failure of the one relationship she’d put a hundred and ten percent into.
Was that how Mom had felt when she got divorced? Did she wonder if it was her fault—and if she had worked harder, Dad wouldn’t have cheated? Was that why she might have refocused on her college lover, because it brought her back to simpler days?
Maybe all women felt like this inside. Always on alert, waiting for someone to judge and point out faults. It was exhausting having so many thoughts and questions and judgments constantly spinning in her mind, taking up all the space.
She almost tripped on a rock and cursed.
“Watch it, sis. Hey, how’s Garrett doing? What’s he up to lately?” Dev asked.
Great. It was like her sister picked up on her mood and asked the one thing she didn’t want to think about today. “He’s good. Busy at work. Made partner, so that’s his priority.”
“You like that word. Good.”
She glanced at Bailey. “It’s a good word. Covers everything.”
Her sister trudged beside her, matching her pace. She smelled of mosquito repellent and coconut lotion. Her hair was clipped up in a bouncy ponytail. As usual, her face reflected a genuine openness Pris had always been jealous of. It was easy for Bailey to share. She wondered how she’d scored that gene. “Why don’t you dig a little deeper?” Bailey suggested. “How’s your marriage?”
This time, she did trip, flailing her arms like a Muppet until she caught her balance. Bailey steadied her, and she refocused on the trail with a new vigor. Exercise was supposed to be good at flushing out the demons, right? She quickened her steps and felt her muscles strain to accommodate the incline. “It’s good.”
Dev snorted. “Don’t be lame, Pris. You can’t take the high ground that we never ask you crap if you never give us anything. We’ve been more open with you, and I frickin’ hate getting touchy-feely.”