Russell took his bottle of Coke and rolled it slowly back and forth between his palms. The cool glass felt good despite the fall day.
“She’s over the Atlantic somewhere right now. That’s a bit out of reach. I’ll ask her when I see her next week.”
“You know where you’re going yet?”
She was going to meet his plane at Sienna airport with a rental car. They’d poke along the Amalfi coast, or slide over to Monaco and the French Riviera. A whole week, just the two of them and Italy—that’s all he cared about.
“I’ll know when the time is right. When the mood is right.”
Angelo swore loudly, waved for him to take the tiller, and went below. The Lady slipped along the shore and Russell fell back to watching the lighthouse slip slowly by. It was a sweet one—all alone at the foot of the hill, guard
