The warm Mediterranean wind blew gently as Colette waited for Luca’s arrival at their latest meeting spot.
It was her last night in Italy—she was flying out of Naples tomorrow evening—and he had promised to show her how he felt and to make his intentions known before she went.
In the meantime, he had left another of his romantic notes at the villa, setting out a place and time to meet this evening.
Colette was feeling confident. She was pretty certain he was going to confirm that this meant much more to him than just a summer fling. She meant more.
This evening she was dressed in a flowing red summer dress, and the skirt danced around her legs and caressed her calves. It was a halter-style that tied at the neck, and the sash tickled her back as she waited, like a soothing hand comforting her. She checked her watch to see that it was almost eight o’clock. Just in time.
L’Incanto was a beautiful and suitably romantic meeting spot in the center of Positano at Spiaggia Grande, situated right on the beach; though, being honest, Colette would have preferred to spend her last night with Luca at the place where they’d first met. Then she’d also have the opportunity to say a proper goodbye to Mama Elene. Now she walked expectantly inside the restaurant to where a hostess was waiting, and smiled at the young woman who greeted her.
“Table for two for Gambini,” Colette declared confidently. “Luca Gambini.”
The woman checked her reservations book. “I’m sorry. I don’t see any reservation for Gambini here. Are you sure you have the right name?” she questioned.
Colette was confused. The note had definitely said a reservation in his name in L’Incanto, hadn’t it?
“Excuse me,” she said, stepping back outside for a moment and pulling Luca’s note out of her bag.
He’d left it at the villa the day before, when she was down at Fornillo beach with Kim. She read it again. Yes, this was definitely the right place and time, but it seemed there was no reservation. Could there perhaps be another L’Incanto elsewhere? she wondered.
Unless he’d meant to just meet, not necessarily eat here, Colette mused then, feeling a bit stupid for assuming.
And doubly stupid for dressing up. Clearly this was another of Luca’s surprises.
She waited outside the restaurant for another twenty minutes, and when there was still no sign, Colette cursed herself afresh for not taking Annie’s advice and asking for Luca’s phone number.
While his aversion to more modern methods of communication seemed quaint and romantic when things were going well, it was an unbelievable source of frustration at times like this when there was a problem.
Colette waited and waited, but still nothing. He didn’t show. Deflated and more than a little annoyed now, she wandered down to the beach and, taking her shoes off, dipped her toes in the water.
Luca had promised he’d show her his intentions before the trip was over.
What if this is how he’s showing you?
She tried to shake the unpleasant thought out of her brain. He wouldn’t be so cruel. He wouldn’t get her hopes up by asking her to come to some random place just to let her down. He wasn’t that kind of man.
But did she know what kind of man he was, really?
Disheartened and soon becoming more than a little concerned in case anything could have happened to him—an accident, even—Colette continued to wait.
A half hour turned into an hour, and she was still waiting. The restaurant hostess even asked if there was anyone she could call, or if she wanted a glass of water, having noticed her loitering beachside in the late-evening sunshine.
It was apparent to the Italian woman, as it was becoming painfully clear to Colette, that Luca wasn’t coming.
She was starting to seriously worry that maybe he had indeed been in an accident, when her phone dinged with a text from a number she didn’t recognize.
Colette, I am so sorry. You were right: this was just a summer fling. I didn’t mean to get so entangled. I will treasure our time together.
She stared at the words, unable to believe what she was reading. It couldn’t be true.
Tears filled her eyes as she stabbed at the screen of the phone and called the number back. But there was no answer.
“Pick up,” she cried, panicked. “You owe me that much at least.”
She dialed the number over and over, but still he never answered. She was almost tempted to call Mama Elene, but she didn’t want to involve the older woman and make her uncomfortable. It would be embarrassing and humiliating, and hadn’t she already been humiliated enough? The man who’d told Colette he abhorred mobile communication had had the audacity—the absolute neck—to dump her by text.
Hurrying away down the shore, away from the restaurant and the pitying looks from the restaurant hostess, Colette lowered herself onto the wet sand, not caring that she was ruining her brand-new dress.
It didn’t matter. She’d bought it for a memorable romantic last night with Luca and he wasn’t coming.
She didn’t matter.
It was all a lie. Her and Luca’s time together, his romantic words, his adoring glances, gentle hands—all a ploy to make her fall into bed with him. He’d probably done the same thing to other gullible tourist girls a million times before.
She was such an idiot, falling for his honeyed words and his Italian charm. The ultimate cliché. And when she’d pushed him the other day, asked him outright about his feelings, instead of being honest there and then, he’d told her he’d show her.
And he had.
“You arse!” she spat now, wiping tears from her eyes. She’d fallen for him. Despite Annie’s words of caution.
Her first time away on a foreign holiday in the land of her dreams and she’d been taken in—made a complete fool of—by the dashing local.
Of course Luca had made her feel like she was the only one—that was how they did it, wasn’t it? Years of experience with idiot tourists just like her had taught these guys everything they needed to know. He’d doled out exactly what Colette needed to hear. He’d identified and zoomed in on her weak spots, her vulnerabilities, making her feel like he was the only one who’d ever really understood her, while all the while just trying to get into her pants.
She should never have gone out with him on the boat that night. It was after that, when he did succeed in his efforts, that everything changed.
And then, when she’d tried to pin down his feelings, he’d run for the hills.
God, she was so stupid. And pathetic, too.
Even with the benefit of hindsight, the realization was still devastating. She’d fallen—so hard—for Luca, and along with her heart, her pride had also taken one hell of a hit.
As her anger grew, she continued to try his number.
Let him tell her himself instead of hiding behind cowardly, pathetic text messages. How dare he? She didn’t want to believe that he’d be so callous toward her. She’d been so ready to give someone her heart for the first time in her life, and he was just playing with her.
How could anyone do that? Why would they?
“Colette?” a male voice called out suddenly from behind her.
She looked up as a bright, familiar grin greeted her, and she instinctively wiped her face.
“Ed,” she said in surprise, plastering a smile on her face. “What’re you doing here?”
“I thought it was you. I just spotted you from the promenade so I said I’d come down and say hello. I’m just on my way to a restaurant. L’Incanto—do you know it?”
Despite herself, Colette burst into tears.
“Colette, what on earth...?” he asked, concern lacing every word. “What happened?”
She was too upset to speak. The more he questioned, the harder she cried, until finally Ed hunkered down on the sand beside her.
He put a comforting arm around her shoulders and she moved into his embrace.
“Whatever’s the matter, you can tell me,” he soothed, pulling her into his chest. “Is it the Italian guy?” he questioned, and Colette now wished she hadn’t told him about Luca. But since he’d become more insistent about meeting up before she left for home, she’d had little choice but to let him know the details in the hope of letting him down more easily. “Where is he?” Then his tone changed. Concern still lingered but there was something else in his voice now—suspicion. “Did he do something?” He turned her face up toward his, willing her to meet his gaze. “Has he hurt you?”
Colette sniffled. “No, nothing like that. He’s not here.”
“So why are you here on the beach all by yourself?”
She shook her head sadly, embarrassed afresh to have to admit it out loud.
“He didn’t...he didn’t show.”
“Didn’t show? You mean he was supposed to meet you here and he stood you up? On your last night?”
Colette nodded, hurt and shame consuming her all over again.
“What a cock. These bloody Italians...”
“I know,” she cried. “I feel so stupid, believe me, for falling hook, line, and sinker for his nonsense that he cared about me and that I meant something to him. But it was all a lie, Ed. He didn’t care about me at all. He never did. How could I have been so stupid? I’m so stupid.”
“Oh, I’m sure he did care,” Ed soothed. “How could he not? You’re amazing. But I suppose these guys...well, you know, so many tourists come here all the time and...”
“I know.” She turned away, not wanting to hear it.
Now he held her to him and gently stroked her hair. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “You deserve better, you know. So much better.”
“I’m not so sure about that. It really is my own fault for being so naive. But thanks for being so nice to me.”
She moved away from him now, a bit mortified by her behavior. Nice and all that he was, Ed didn’t really know her that well. They’d never managed to meet up for that coffee, and while they’d communicated a bit, it wasn’t as though he was a real friend, like Kim and Annie or anything.
“Let’s get you home,” he said eventually. “I’ll call a cab—you said your hotel was called Villa Dolce Vita?”
“It’s not a hotel, but you’re with your friends,” Colette protested.
“Doesn’t matter. And we’re sort of sick of one another by now,” he joked. “Honestly, I’d rather see you home safe and sound. And I really hate to see you upset. I can always drop you off and then pop back. Truly, they won’t even notice I’ve gone.”
“If you’re sure...” Colette just wanted to leave—to get away from this restaurant, this beach, and indeed Italy. And especially away from the memories of what she’d truly thought was a wonderful romance, but was in reality a complete lie, a sham.
She supposed, in a way, it was a good thing that tonight was her last. She’d had enough.
Colette was ready to go home.