I’m about to mention maybe going down to Marina Pic-cola sometime because it looks really pretty in the pictures when my eyes zip over to the entrance. Lenora and Utavia walk into the bar, looking for a place to sit to enjoy their weekly Guinness.
I freeze, afraid to look away, afraid they’ll see us. But Derio follows my gaze and looks behind him just as Lenora and Utavia spot us.
Oh shit. My awkward-meter goes to eleven.
They both look fabulously put together—one in silk harem pants, the other in a python miniskirt, both in heels the size of my head. But I’m not so much intimidated by how they look as how they’ll act. Lenora is frowning, already seeming a bit bothered at the sight of us together. Never mind the fact that I really am working for him and she knows this. I guess just being at a bar is making it seem like something more than a working relationship, something more than it actually is.
“Hello, Amber, is it?” Lenora says, wiggling her manicured nails at me. I instantly think of the horribly chipped green polish I’m wearing at the moment.
I can only nod and I can feel Derio staring at me in shock, wondering how on earth I know this person.
“Ciao, Derio,” she says to him, pursing her lips together into an angry little pout. “I haven’t seen you for a very long time.”
“Buongiorno, Lenora,” he says to her—rather graciously, I might add. He bows his head. “Utavia.”
“Mind if we join you?” Lenora asks us, gesturing to the booth. I curse the fact that we didn’t get a two-seater.
“No, please, sit down,” Derio says so politely, warmly even, that I wonder if maybe there was more to their little date than I had assumed.
Lenora smiles like the cat that’s got the canary and then says something to Utavia. Utavia runs over to the bar, leaving Lenora with us. She drums her nails on the table and smiles prettily.
“So, Amber,” she says to me. “Are you still teaching English to Derio’s siblings?”
“How did you know that?” Derio cuts in before I can answer.
“She was here one day in the bar. We had a nice chat. It was good to practice my English. I’ve gotten very good, you see.” She bats her eyelashes at him. “She told me she was teaching them . . . What are their names again?”
“Alfonso and Annabella,” Derio says somewhat quietly.
“Yes, of course,” she says. “And how are they?” She looks at me with false sympathy. “They’ve been through so much, it must be so hard to teach them, yes?”
“They’re great,” I tell her, not willing to admit any of the children’s faults.
“But of course they have that old woman.”
“No, she’s gone,” I say, and from the daggers that Derio shoots me I know I wasn’t supposed to say anything. Too late now.
“She died?”
“No, she just left. I’m the nanny for now.”
“You are the nanny?” she asks incredulously. She looks at Derio. “And you are on a date with her?”
“We’re not on a date,” I say quickly.
“We’re just having a drink,” Derio explains, his voice hard.
“Well, we all know what that means with you,” Lenora says with a sour laugh. “Of course, it did not turn into much of anything.”
Derio finishes the rest of his beer in one gulp, obviously wanting to leave. I’m pretty much done with my wine as it is.
“He hasn’t left the island for a very long time,” Lenora says, jerking her thumb at him while looking at me. “I hope you don’t fall in love with him or you will be stuck, too.” She smirks at him and then says, “But then Amber already knows this about you.”
Now Derio really wants to kill me. Actually, it’s more than that. Though his jaw is twitching in anger, his dark eyes are filled with hurt. The way she said it makes it seem much worse than it is.
He gets up just as Utavia gets back to the table with their Guinnesses. “Scusate,” he says. “I must attend to some matters.” He flings some money down on the table and leaves.
I spring to my feet, grabbing my purse, and run after him just as I hear Lenora calling out, “No use running, he doesn’t like women!”
Derio is getting on the bike and seems like he’s about to pull away from me. I grab on to his arm and pull at him.
“Wait!” I cry out.
He glares at me. “She told you things about me? That I won’t leave the island? What else did she tell you?”
“I’ll tell you,” I say, “but it’s not a big deal. Let’s just go back to the house and away from here. She’s bitter.”
“She is a bitch, that is what she is,” he says but he tips the bike over to the left so that I can properly get on.
“I figured that much,” I say, grabbing hold of him.
We quickly zoom down the crowded streets past the cafés and fancy shops and soon we’re back at the villa and he’s putting the bike in the shed.
Unfortunately, now he doesn’t seem to want to talk at all.
“Everything she said I took with a grain of salt,” I explain.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“I would have told you but I met her on my first day on the island, weeks ago, and you and I weren’t really talking like we do now. And I knew it was hearsay anyway.”
“It’s fine.”
“I could tell that she was hurt because you weren’t interested in her.”