‘Hah!’ he laughs. ‘Orthat’s how we get permission to film here. We promise them a spectacular ad campaign.’
‘Hmm,’ I say, unconvinced. ‘I can get us a filming permit without promising them anything. In fact, when I’m done with them, the mayor of Capri will bebeggingus to film here.’
He smirks. ‘Is there a mayor of Capri?’ he asks.
‘I have no idea,’ I declare, and he sniggers. ‘Yet. But once we get funding, I’ll find out.’
He shakes his head disbelievingly. ‘It hasn’t sunk in yet.’
‘Well, like I said, no pr?—’
‘Promises,’ he finishes, talking over me. His expression clouds, but before I can reassure him, our drinks arrive, along with a plate of appetisers. I glance at the menu:
APERITIVO
Marinated anchovies on crostini
I’m not usually into anchovies, but they smell amazing – not at all like the soggy little things you’d get on a shitty pizza.
We thank the waiter and when I turn to Nick, he’s holding out his glass. ‘To you, Delaney.’
‘Hmm, not sure about that.’
‘You have something different in mind?’ he asks.
‘How about to Finn and Lexi.’
I raise my glass, looking at him expectantly.
I donotwant Nick to toast me – either professionally, because there’s that whole no-promises thing, or personally, because he’s engaged, he was supposed to be getting married this week, and I’ve got a boyfriend – even though right now he’s being an asshole.
All that adds up, and a toast to Delaney is asking for trouble and a big fat no-no.
‘To Finn and Lexi,’ Nick says after a stupidly long moment of staring into my eyes – also a big fat no-no. I clink glasses with him and sip, fixing my gaze on anything but my date. Fuck – notdate– dinner companion. Geez, now I sound like my grandmother, who at ninety-four has a more active social life than me.
‘Whatare you thinking about?’ asks Nick and I glance over.
‘Huh – what – sorry?’
He gives me a bemused smile. ‘It’s just… your face,’ he says, circling his forefinger in front of his. ‘It’s very expressive but right now, I can’t figure out if you’ve found a frog in your pocket or sat on a pinecone.’
‘Okay, you’ve lost me.’ But then I get it. ‘Oh!’ I say, breaking into laughter. ‘The kids’ pranks on Maria inThe Sound of Music. That’s kind of an obscure reference.’
‘You got there in the end –andI made you laugh.’
‘Touché,’ I acknowledge, raising my glass. I take another sip and it’s going down smoothly. Maybe too smoothly. I’ve already had limoncello – I need to pace myself. Especially after yesterday. And today. And tonight before we left the suite.
Seriously,whatam I doing?
‘Are you going to tell me what’s really going on in there?’ Nick asks. When I look at him, his eyes lift to my forehead then land back on mine.
‘Nope,’ I say – a single syllable that’s punching way above its weight class.
He seems to accept that we’re not going to discuss it – ‘it’ being a swarm of confusing, inappropriate, insistent feelings. He reaches for the wine list instead.
‘That thing is thicker than my AP Bio textbook –andas daunting,’ I say, helping myself to a crostini and taking a big bite. Holy shit – best anchovies ever.
‘Come on,’ he says, glancing up, ‘you said yourself that you know about wine. Don’t tell me you’re intimidated by a mere three-pound leather-bound tome?’ he teases.