“Not true,” I point out. “I mean, I’ve seen more of the world at this point than you.”
He grins and gives me a sidelong glance. “Is that so?”
“Unless you’re suddenly going to tell me you’ve been to New Zealand, Australia, Southeast Asia, and the rest of Europe.”
“I have been to the rest of Europe,” he says smartly. “Even the little countries you missed. And I have been to Singapore, Thailand, India, and Sri Lanka.”
Show-off, I think. “But have you been to the States?”
He rolls his eyes. “No.”
“Didn’t think so,” I tell him haughtily and noisily slurp down the rest of the coffee.
“You would like Florence,” he says.
I shrug. “I’m sure I’ll go someday.”
“How about tomorrow?”
I glance at him. “Are you going to send me and the kids off to Florence tomorrow? Because I’m not sure I’m up for that again.”
His eyes soften. “I know you’ve been having a hard time because of what happened, Amber. I wouldn’t do that to you when you’ve been feeling this way. Your feelings are very powerful, you know. I can feel them everywhere you are.” He pauses and gets up, looming over me and blocking out the sunlight. “But I do think you need to get off this rock. I am going with you.”
I stare at him dumbly, trying to think of the right thing to say to that. “You’re coming to Florence with me?”
He nods. “I am at least going to try. And if we do not make it as far as Florence, it does not matter. But I am getting off the island, with your help.”
“I hate to act like my father and play the psychology card here, but . . . are you sure you’re not better off going to a doctor first? A shrink to deal with your fears? Maybe the kids could go, too . . .”
He looks off into the distance with a grim twist to his lips. “No. No, they would only put us all on medication and I believe in figuring things out for yourself first.” He glances back at me. “Besides, they all suggest you face your fears. You have with yours. Now it’s time for me.” He holds out his hand for me. “Come with me, Amber.”
I take it and he brings me to my feet. “Of course I’m going to come with you. I’m glad. I’m happy and I think this is absolutely what you need to do to move on. I’m just . . . surprised. That’s all.”
And it’s the truth, though I’m also a bit nervous for Derio. I know how I was with my fear of heights and that was just the occasional panic attack. It didn’t directly affect my life. With him, his fears have affected everything. But I promise to be there for him, through it all, just as he was there for me.
* * *
Florence ends up being too far away for two nights—Annabella was adamant she not miss her playdate with Gia DiFabbia so we settle on Naples for the night. I know it’s not really a destination city and has a lot of crime and riffraff but Derio tells the kids they can visit Pompeii the next day and they get all excited and flail their hands about seeing the mummified bodies covered in ash, which makes up for it.
Derio assures me we are staying at a gorgeous hotel in one of the nicer parts of town, with its own balcony overlooking some piazza or something. I honestly don’t care where we stay—just like the twins, I am thrilled to be stepping off this island, especially with my man by my side.
We pack light, knowing luggage carts are hard to hire during peak tourist season on Via Tragara, and leave early in the morning before the heat gets too bad. Soon we’re down at the Marina Grande and Derio is staring at the ferry with trepidation. I look around nervously as well, remembering how I lost the children.
But they don’t care and they drag us along. Even though the hydrofoil is a much faster and more convenient way to get to Naples, we’re taking the car ferry because of its size and sturdiness—anything to make this easier on Derio.
“Are you ready?” I ask him. I reach out and squeeze his hand. He squeezes back.
“We will find out,” he says. He gives me a stiff smile. I know how badly he wants to believe himself but the fear is jockeying for prime position.
“Whatever you need to do,” I tell him softly. And whether that means breaking down and crying or having a screaming fit or demanding the boat turn around, I will stick by him one hundred percent.
We walk down the ramp, our tickets already purchased, and step foot onto the ferry. Because of its size, it doesn’t bow or wobble with the small waves that come into the tiny harbor. It feels like we are still on land. We go and find a row of seats in the middle of the ship, far away from the windows, just in case.
“Alfonso, Annabella,” I say to the kids, leaning over Derio as he drums nervously on his knees. “Promise to keep your voices down during the trip and behave. Don’t have your iPads too loud.”
Derio closes his eyes. “It’s fine.”
I ignore him and make sure to look each twin in the eye. “This is a big deal for your brother. I know it doesn’t seem like it but it is. You’ll promise to be good and help him, won’t you?”
They both nod and look at Derio. “We promise,” they say in unison. Then they get out their iPads, put their brightly-colored headphones on, and start playing their games, content to pass the voyage that way.
I lean into Derio. “Do you want me to get you anything?”
Just then the ferry’s engines rumble louder, ready to push off.