Make Me Bad(79)

He was wrong, though—Vernazza’s beauty would have made me cry with or without this baby girl in my belly.

“I can’t believe I’m here. I CAN’T BELIEVE I’M HERE!” I repeated over and over again as we made our way down the cobblestone lane.

Ben had searched high and low for the bed and breakfast I’d mentioned to the tattoo artist.

“It wasn’t easy,” he said. “It’s not as if these places have websites or anything. Everything here is a little old school. I only found the phone number after hounding Eli about it.”

He found it, though, and it was just as I imagined. Small. Quaint. Tucked right in the heart of Vernazza’s main town square. The view was split between the rolling waves hitting the breakers and the countryside sloping up behind the stacked buildings, each one a different pastel shade: blue, yellow, red, orange. Their facades were cracked and old, but their age only enhanced the beauty of the square. I wanted to cry again, but I kept it together.

Il Mare was painted on the plaster above the door.

When we strolled inside, a young woman with dark brown hair stood behind the main desk, arguing with the tall man beside her.

“Julianna loves kittens. You have to let her keep it! You’ll crush her if you insist otherwise.”

“She already has a cat. She doesn’t need another.”

“But it’s Mopsie’s child!”

He threw his hands up, defeated. “Child. Georgie, these are cats you’re talking about!”

Just then, a large white cat hopped up onto the desk, wagging its tail tauntingly. The woman—Georgie, it seemed—pointed to it. “See, he knows we’re talking about him.” She reached out to pet him lovingly. “Don’t worry, Mopsie, I won’t let this old bugger win.”

The woman’s opponent shook his head before reaching down to whisper something in her ear. Her cheeks went bright red and she pressed her hand against his chest just as her gaze finally caught on us.

“Oh! Guests! Sorry about that,” she said, pushing him aside and straightening her dress.

She was beautiful. They both were. Eli had described them perfectly, even down to their English accents.

“Luca, hurry—go get their bags. They look exhausted.”

I felt a little self-conscious then. I probably did look a little haggard.

They helped us check in and chatted with us about the village and everything we had to see and eat while we were there. The following evening, we joined them for dinner out in the square, exchanging stories about Clifton Cove and how it compared to Vernazza.

“It sounds a bit similar,” Georgie said, nodding. “Beachy town with loads of rich people. God, everyone here is pretty much just fancy Brits wanting to get away from it all.”

“Like you two?” I asked, wondering if that was what had brought them there.

Georgie turned to Luca with a wink. “Our story’s a little more complicated.”

During that dinner, they recommended that we trek over to Monterosso, one of the other villages in Cinque Terre, to lay out on the beach since the weather was so nice and warm.

We’re there now, lying under umbrellas, roasting and getting as warm as we can stand to be before we take another dip in the ocean. We’re in no rush. This entire trip has been about slowing down, taking it easy, forgetting to check our phones. Our lives have been a little hectic lately. Ben’s firm is growing, growing, growing. At a time when most people would buckle down, he’s decided to take on less clients and shave off a little bit of the excess. “It’s not what life should be about,” he told me the other night during dinner. I nodded and tried to hide my smile, glad he’d come to that conclusion all on his own.

In the last year, my programs at the library have grown too, and I’ve had to hire someone to assist me full-time, which means no more Intern Katy! HOORAY!

Our friends keep us busy as well. Arianna and Andy had a baby boy right around the time Kevin and Eli adopted twin girls. When we told the gang we were expecting, they screamed with excitement, Andy most of all.

This vacation away from everyone is good for us, though. We need time to wrap our heads around how much our lives will change in the next few months once our little girl arrives. I can’t wait, but I’m appreciating every moment like this, just the two of us.

Ben’s splayed out on the lounge chair beside me with his baseball hat covering his eyes. It’s midafternoon and we just had a big lunch: fish caught just off shore, freshly baked bread, and vegetables grown right on the hillsides. By the end, I couldn’t have eaten another bite if I’d tried, but then they brought out gelato and, well, somehow I managed to down that too. We’re content right here, lounging and being as lazy as possible as the waves lap against the shore.

Ben’s hand is running back and forth across my stomach slowly, lovingly. My bump is hardly showing, a fact I’m a tiny bit sad about. I’d wear my bikini proudly even if I was huge. As it is, it almost feels like a secret. No one else on the beach knows I’m pregnant, and there’s something special about that.

“Think we should name her something Italian in honor of our trip? What was our waitress’s name at lunch? Giada?”

Ben hums in amusement but keeps his eyes closed.

“No? What about Mopsie? Isn’t that the cat’s name at the bed and breakfast? The one that follows us everywhere?”