Okay. Just going to throw this out there. What if I came to Capri tomorrow? I have a free day, and my gut is telling me to come. Carpe Diem and all of that…. I’m obviously dying to meet Lainey, but if you really think that’s a bad idea, I would still love to meet her best friend! 
I stare down at my phone, feeling a rush of excitement as I type, Please come! I want to meet you!
My heart racing, I return the phone to my clutch, tuning back in to hear Archie asking the bartender about a particular Amalfi wine. She reports that it has notes of ripe, dark fruit, smoked meat, and tobacco with a spicy finish.
Archie nods, then says, “I’m not sure about smoked meat and tobacco. Maybe something a bit lighter?”
A back-and-forth ensues until Archie finally makes a decision, going with two of the best-known appellations of Aglianico wines—one from Campania’s Taurasi and the other from Basilicata’s Aglianico del Vulture.
“We can compare and share,” he says. “Our own mini-tasting.”
I smile and say, “Perfect.”
“Now, where were we?” he says, leaning closer to me.
“I can’t remember,” I say, doing my best to suppress a yawn.
I don’t know whether it’s my buzz wearing off or that I’m too busy thinking about Olivia’s text, but my mood has shifted.
“You look so tired,” Archie says. “Am I keeping you up past your bedtime?”
His question seems sweet, not passive-aggressive, but I still feel guilty—like I’m not being a fun date. I tell myself that’s ridiculous. I’m allowed to be tired. I’m allowed to change my mind about what I want to happen tonight. And I’m allowed to respond in a way that might not please a man.
“I am pretty sleepy,” I say.
“Should I cancel our order?” he asks me.
“Maybe we should just split a glass?”
Archie hesitates, then says, “Let’s get both, but we don’t have to finish them.”
I nod and smile. Over the next thirty minutes, we share a pleasant conversation and two glasses of exceptional wine.
Afterward, Archie pays the bill and we stroll back to my hotel. When we arrive, he walks me the whole way into the lobby and over to the elevator, pressing the button. I can tell he’s disappointed by the way the evening is turning out. A small part of me feels a letdown, too—it would have been nice to be swept away by passion, drunken or otherwise.
“What are you all doing tomorrow?” Archie asks me.
“I’m not sure,” I say—which I guess isn’t a total lie.
Archie nods, then says, “Ian and I may do the Blue Grotto if the weather is nice. You’re welcome to join.”
“Okay. And if not tomorrow, let’s definitely get together before we leave,” I say, thinking I’m not sure it’s going to be a love connection, but I’m glad we met and would love to stay in touch.
As the elevator doors open, Archie smiles, then leans down and kisses my cheek. “Nighty night, Hannah,” he says.
Chapter 21
Lainey
Something is happening between Tyson and me. It feels like a gravitational pull, though I’m having trouble figuring out if it’s one-sided or mutual. Whatever the case, it grows stronger the more I drink and the later it gets. I want to be near him in a way that I’ve never felt before. It makes no sense. It makes even less sense that I find myself feeling territorial and a little jealous as Tyson dances with the gorgeous woman he first spotted in town yesterday. He actually turned his head and did a double take both times he saw her. I can’t say I blame him. She looks like a runway model.
My jealousy takes me by complete surprise. I’m never jealous when it comes to guys—or really anything. It’s an unfamiliar and uncomfortable emotion, and I do my best to make it go away.
Ian provides an excellent distraction. He’s not nearly as handsome as Archie, but with cool tattoos and a beard, he has a certain grungy sex appeal. He’s also a surprisingly good dancer.
As I feel myself approaching wasted territory, Tyson brings me a large glass of water and tells me to drink it.
“You said you wouldn’t judge,” I say, taking it from him and chugging it.
“I’m not judging. I just don’t want to clean up puke tonight.” He smiles.
“Fair enough,” I say, kissing his cheek, then drinking the rest of the glass.
“Where’s Amore?” I say.
“She left.”
“Did you get her number?”
“As a matter of fact, I did.”
“Look at you!” I say, punching his shoulder, then stumbling a bit.
“Easy there,” he says, grabbing my elbow and steadying me.
A few minutes later, he brings me a second glass of water. This time he hands it off to Ian and says, “Make sure she drinks that, please.”
“Will do,” Ian says.
