“This thing is a Valentino romper,” I say, although the costume designer had actually referred to it as a playsuit—a name that only made me like it more.
“More like Romper Room,” Tyson says.
I laugh and blow him a kiss before turning in to the bathroom to change.
Chapter 25
Tyson
I am sitting on the balcony with Lainey, reading her script and trying not to think about last night. Her body is incredible and our chemistry undeniable, but more than anything sexual, I keep returning to that vulnerable look on her face in the shower. In that moment, she really did seem like a different person.
I tell myself it was an illusion—the confluence of alcohol, attraction, and something in the Italian air—and that she’s the same old Lainey. But as we read the script—which, incidentally, is surprisingly deep for a romantic comedy—I find myself wondering if maybe I have it backward. Maybe last night’s glimpse of her—stripped bare of all her usual bravado and defense mechanisms—is closer to the real Lainey.
Watching her in her element reinforces this idea, especially as she reads a few scenes aloud. I’m struck by how difficult it must be to convince an audience that you’re someone else—and how adept Lainey is at it. She really seems to lose herself in the character, and her serious approach to her work not only fills me with admiration but turns me on. At one point, I find myself getting hard, wanting to touch her.
Fortunately, Lainey suggests we take a stroll.
“Sure. That sounds nice,” I say, thinking that if we don’t get out of this room soon, I won’t be able to resist kissing her.
—
We start out on Via Camerelle, which Lainey calls the Wilshire Boulevard of Capri. As we wander in and out of all the high-end shops, like Gucci, Pucci, and Dolce & Gabbana, Lainey teaches me the concept of atelier. For the first time, I really stop to consider the craftsmanship that goes into couture clothing.
From there, we go to Carthusia, Capri’s famed perfumery. While Lainey tries on scents, I delve into the history, reading all the placards adorning the walls. I give her the recap, explaining that in 1948, the Prior of the Carthusian Monastery of Saint Giacomo discovered the formula for the perfumery’s original scent, which had been lying in the monastery’s library since the fourteenth century.
“Love that!” She grins at me, then goes to buy two bottles—one for her and one for Hannah.
Our next stop is Amedeo Canfora, one of several sandal-making shops in town, and apparently the one favored by Jackie Kennedy and Grace Kelly. I look around at the displayed memorabilia, including a photograph of Jackie taken the night she came into the store. The caption, in Italian, reads “Wife of President Kennedy.” Next to it is a log of her purchases and a tracing of her right foot, which includes her measurements: twenty-two centimeters for the width and twenty-three centimeters for the span of her arch.
Meanwhile, Lainey gets to work designing her sandals. After much agonizing, she chooses a flat base, a medium-brown leather T-strap, silver hardware, and little jingle bell charms. We watch as an older lady (who happens to be the daughter of the original owner) gets to work making Lainey’s sandals.
Once they’re made, Lainey tries them on. She loves them so much that she decides to wear them out of the store, putting her other shoes in the box.
“Now your turn!” she says.
“I’m not really a sandal guy.”
“Oh, c’mon,” she says. “When in Capri!”
“Fair enough,” I say, pointing to a wall of premade shoes for men. “Just pick a pair for me.”
“You pick. You have great style.”
“Yeah, right,” I say.
She insists that I do, and we end up agreeing on the same pair—a simple, classic brown leather slide called the “Tomas.” I try them on and like them.
“We’ll take these,” Lainey tells the sales associate, handing over her AmEx.
“What are you doing?” I ask, reaching for my wallet.
Lainey looks at me, smiles, and says, “Really? You’re going to look a gift horse in the mouth again?”
I smile and thank her.
—
Once back out on the street, Lainey asks if I’ve had enough shopping.
“Oh, I got a little left in me,” I say, throwing her a bone.
Her face lights up, and she leads us to a narrow street called Via delle Botteghe.
“This area is supposed to be a little less pricey,” Lainey says. “With more boutique international designers.”
I nod, following her into a shop called Blu, then watch her systematically inspect garment after garment, feeling the material, checking the price, and occasionally asking for my opinion. The process is intriguing, and I like seeing what she likes. When she goes to try stuff on, I make myself comfortable in an armchair outside the dressing room, hoping she will show me the outfits. She does, of course, emerging first in a long, loose-fitting dress that looks hand painted and beaded.
“This one’s by Dassios—a Greek designer,” she says, twirling around. “Isn’t it fun?”
“Yeah. It’s cool,” I say, thinking that it’s not her usual style.
She smiles, then pops back into the dressing room. A few minutes later, she pokes her head out again and says, “Hey, Tyson. C’mere for one sec.”
There is a glint in her eye, and I can tell she’s up to something.
I take a deep breath and make my way over to her. “I’m here,” I say through the velvet partition.
She pulls the curtain back, then turns around, exposing her naked back, a sliver of a white lace thong, and her perfect ass.
“Can you zip me up, please?” she asks, giving me a seductive glance over her shoulder.
I nod, then take my time, enjoying the view.
“There,” I say, once she’s zipped.
“Thank you,” she says, turning to face me.
I look down at the bombshell black dress clinging to her curves. This one is pure Lainey.
“What do you think?” she asks.
“I think,” I say, leaning close to whisper in her ear, “that you’re going to get us in trouble.”
Chapter 26
Hannah
After lunch, Olivia and I take a leisurely walk, stumbling upon the base of the Scala Fenica—a.k.a. the Phoenician Steps. While eavesdropping on an English-speaking tour guide, we learn that the stone staircase was constructed by the ancient Greeks between the seventh and sixth centuries b.c.—and that it was the only pathway up to Anacapri until a road was built in the late nineteenth century. The guide goes on to explain that before that time, residents had to collect fresh drinking water from a spring in Marina Grande, then carry it up all 921 stairs.
