Reckless Abandon(26)

Trust me, there is no way the locals endure this torture. If I say we climbed a thousand stairs, I might be underestimating the climb. Leah whines on the way up and I remind her how great her butt will look after this exercise. It seems to make her happy enough to keep on going.

When we reach the top, we treat ourselves to gelato.

Between last night’s trek to Anacapri and today’s climb up the mountain, we are both ready to head back to the hotel. A nap is in order before we can even think about where to go for dinner.

Leah and I enter the hotel and pass through the lobby, walking to our room. In front of our door is a large package. From the distance it looks like a bouquet of flowers. When we get closer we see that it’s really . . . shoes.

In a large wicker basket is an array of shoes, each on its own stick, assembled in a display to look like a flower arrangement. In between each shoe is tissue paper and the entire thing is wrapped in cellophane.

Leah picks up the basket while I take out my room key and open the door. When we’re in the room, Leah places the basket on the table of the seating area and removes the card on the front.

“It’s for you,” she says, handing me the envelope.

“Me?” I take the envelope from her and look at my name written on the front. I open the envelope and slide the card out.



I look over at the bouquet that Leah is unwrapping. Inside are a dozen shoes. These aren’t any shoes. There are six pairs of Sperry Top-Siders in the basket. The same shoe I lost when I fell in the water. I left the other on Devon’s boat and wore slippers home.

I look back down on the card and read the next line.



Leah rips the card from my hand and reads it. “For someone who didn’t talk to the guy, you certainly made an impression.”

I wave her off and look at the shoes. It’s an odd gift. Who buys someone six pairs of shoes? There is a gold pair, a silver, red, navy, white and green. All in my size. I don’t know how much Asher gets paid but he spent a pretty penny.

But why?

I take the card from Leah and read the note again. It’s actually pretty funny. If I were in a different headspace I would appreciate the cleverness of the gift.

“Looks like you have dinner plans tonight.” Leah says with complete excitement.

“No way. I am not going to dinner with a stranger.” The card feels like a lead weight in my hand.

“Yes, you are. This is awesome. He sent you shoes! That’s better than jewelry!” Leah starts taking the shoes off the sticks and pairing them together on the couch. “I’m picking your outfit!”

“No, you’re not. I am not leaving you to go out. This is our vacation, remember? Our sister’s sabbatical.” I take the shoes and place them back in the basket.

“You’re going. Besides, I am so tired from all the walking today. I’ll be more than happy to drink a bottle of wine on the patio and talk to Adam.” She leans down and grabs the navy Sperry’s and walks them over to the closet. “I know just the thing for you to wear!”

“I don’t think you’re listening, I’m not going.”

Leah opens my closet and pulls out my favorite yellow racer-back tank dress. “Emma, yesterday you were sobbing on the grass. Today, a beautiful man wants to take you out to dinner. Let me ask you, do you want to be the girl who cries in her hands or do you want to be the girl who has fun?”

Her question takes me completely by surprise. Is that who I am? The girl who cries? It’s not who I was. I was the mature one. I took care of our family. I didn’t need taking care of.

I take the dress from her hands and walk into the bathroom. “You’re doing my hair!” I shout before slamming the door in her face.



The note said, “Dinner. 9pm.” There was no location. Hell, there wasn’t even a question in there. It’s as if I don’t have a choice whether I want to go to dinner or not.

I’m wearing the dress Leah pulled out. It’s tight and hits a few inches above my knees. The racer back makes it difficult to wear a proper bra so I put on a strapless one that’s thin and doesn’t show through the fabric. The front is a scoop neck and shows ample cleavage but nothing pornstar-esque. Leah insisted I wear the navy-blue Sperrys. It’s not the shoe I’d normally wear with a bright yellow but it works. The dress is cotton and casual. Sexy without looking like I’m trying too hard.

My hair is blown out with a soft bend at the ends. Leah wanted to do my makeup but I did it myself, subtle and natural-looking. As the clock strikes nine, I find myself fiddling with the gold “E” I wear around my neck. If someone writes something like “Dinner. 9pm,” you know they must be punctual.

“Am I supposed to wait here?”

Leah thinks for a second, then says, “Wait in the lobby. It’s less first date-ish.”

I agree and head out the door. My stomach is in knots. Is this a first date? It’s weird if it is because there won’t be a second. We’re in Italy, for Christ’s sake. I don’t even know where he lives. I’ll go back to Cedar Ridge and he’ll go back to . . . wherever it is he came from.

This is stupid. I feel stupid. I want to turn around and go back to the room. I should.

I turn on my heels and start heading back. Then what? Leah will just push me out the door again. And do I really want to be the girl who cries?