Once we’re inside, our bodies are in such close proximity to each other we’re basically cuddling on the floor of the boat. I should have put my shirt back on, but Fielder doesn’t seem to mind, staring more at my skin than the rocky cliffs around the grotto.
The tour guide winks. “Lean-a back e enjoy!”
There are dozens of rowboats and gozzos wading in the sea outside the grotto’s entrance. The closer we get, the rockier the waves are, and Fielder grasps for me.
“I got you,” I whisper again.
His breath beats against me.
“How long-a you two, eh, being in love?” the tour guide asks.
Fielder looks to me, and I drown in his turquoise blue eyes. “Oh, um, we’re—”
“Our entire lives,” I answer, mouth dry, a bit breathless.
“Bellissimo!” He clasps his hands. “I sing a song just for you two inside.” When we both look at him, wide-eyed, he says, “It’s customary for, eh, sing.” He motions in front of his chest, as if casting a spell.
“Grazie,” I offer, and he nods in gratitude.
Fielder studies my face, his hand resting comfortably on my stomach.
“Ricky, before we do anything, we need to talk about . . .” His voice is a whisper so low it crashes with the waves against the rocks ahead. “Cam.”
“I don’t want to talk about Cam right now,” I say.
Rowing closer to the mouth of the cave, the tour guide hooks the rowboat onto a pull chain. “Okay, ready? Stay low! Have-a you camera ready!”
But Fielder doesn’t move.
“You’re not going to record this? You record everything.”
“I don’t want to miss it,” Fielder says. His heart beats so fast against his ribs it vibrates against my chest.
“You won’t.”
“Promise?”
“Always.”
Sliding his phone out just as the rowboat bobs toward the opening, he fumbles with it, holds it out over us, and presses Record. He’s not paying attention to the camera though, focusing entirely on me, us, and the grotto.
“Ready?” the tour guide asks. “Hold your breath, make a wish.”
He counts to three, and a swell from the sea pushes us toward the mouth of the cave, which gulps us into the darkness.
I pull him close, and he grips the underside of my body.
He sucks in a breath, and I don’t know how it happens, but one second I see a flash of the most brilliant blue emanating from under the water, illuminating the dark, dank walls of the cave in jewel tones, and the next second, I see Fielder’s blue eyes level with mine. His lips so close I can taste them.
I hold my breath and close my eyes.
“You’ll miss it,” he says.
“Not this time.”
I bridge the gap between us.
Almost.
