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Something about the way he says it makes my stomach flutter.

Weird.

Probably all the food Nonna forced into me.

I turn back toward the water. “You didn't have to.”

“I know.”

“You hate flying.”

“Yep.”

“You hate crowds.”

“Yep.”

“You hate being away from the ranch.”

“Yep.”

I turn my head. “And yet you're here.”

“Yep.”

I stare at him and he stares back.

Fucking Jude.

Sometimes talking to this man is like trying to extract state secrets.

“Why?”

His eyebrows pull together. “Why what?”

“Why did you really come?”

His gaze moves toward the sea. For a second I think he's going to give me another one-word answer, but then he shrugs.

“Damiano was my brother.”

My chest squeezes. “I know.”

“And you shouldn't have to do this alone.”

I look down at my hands.

There it is.

Damiano.

His ashes are sitting inside this house, and soon we'll take part of him to Sicily. His home. The place he talked about for years but never got to show me.

Suddenly the sea in front of me looks different.

“I wish he could've seen this. Been here with us.”

Jude stays quiet for a moment. “Who says he isn't?”