“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.
“Shall we?” Olivia says, shielding her eyes from the sun and gesturing up the stairs.
“Climb a thousand steps?” I ask her—which is my way of saying, no, we shan’t.
“Not a thousand. Only nine hundred and twenty-one!”
“Well, in that case, what are we waiting for?” I laugh. “Let’s do it.”
She smiles, turns, and starts climbing.
The first thirty or so steps are shallow, and I trail behind her, admiring her well-defined calf muscles. The stairs become steeper as we go, and within a couple of minutes, I feel like I’m doing the StairMaster on the highest level and my thighs and lungs start to burn.
Meanwhile, Olivia bounds effortlessly up the steps while still chatting. By the time we reach the top of the staircase, I’m drenched with sweat and panting.
As I slowly catch my breath, Olivia leads us to a spot of shade and pulls a water bottle out of the side pocket of her backpack, offering me the first drink. I take a few swallows, then hand it back to her.
“You’re in unbelievable shape,” I say.
“Thanks. You’re pretty fit yourself.” She smiles.
