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“Are you fucking filming me?”
Her grin answers for her.
I give her the middle finger, which only makes her laugh harder.
Somehow, tambourines get shoved into our hands after that. I have no fucking idea who gives me mine or what I’m supposed to do with it, but Nora grabs my wrist and shows me how to hit it against my palm with the beat.
“Like this, Grumpy!”
“I look ridiculous.”
“You do!”
She laughs and spins away from me, shaking hers above her head.
And fuck it. I don’t care.
We dance to songs I don’t understand, songs Nora and Chiara scream every word to and songs Lexy somehow knows despite claiming she doesn’t speak Italian. Dex and I butcher every dance they try to teach us, and somewhere along the way, I stop caring whether I look like a fucking idiot and just let go.
Every time the crowd pulls Nora away from me, she finds her way back.
Or maybe I find my way back to her.
I don’t know.
By the time I notice how late it’s gotten, my shirt is sticking to my back, Nora’s hair is a wild fucking mess, and my face actually hurts from smiling.
I can’t remember the last time I did this. Maybe I never have. Just stopped thinking about everything, stopped worrying about tomorrow and existed right here, in this moment.
Just fucking lived.
Nora catches my eye from a few feet away and lifts her tambourine over her head, grinning at me.
“I feel alive!” she yells.
I nod, something warm settling deep in my chest.
Yeah. Me too, Nora.
And it’s not the music, the place or the people. It’s her.
She makes me feel alive.
Fuck.
CHAPTER 19
Eleonora
Three days fly by in a blur of mornings at the beach, way too much food at Nonna’s house and exploring as much of Calabria as we can. We visit Tropea and Pizzo Calabro, then spend an evening in Fiumefreddo Bruzio, watching the sunset from the castle on the hill before going for drinks and dancing through the little town’s streets.
Lexy has told me several times already that she’s going to buy a vacation home here someday so she can bring her kids.
I smile to myself as I remember Jude’s gasp when he saw the turquoise water and white beaches of Tropea from the old town high above the shore.
I put the moka on the stove for coffee.
“Mornin’.”