Love Far Away: 2 Page 5

  “Yes, I like it very much,” agreed Sébastien. “No day is the same. From spring to fall Gianluca is sometimes on his boat for vacation. The rest of the time he will hire it out for charters, for those who would like to experience a yacht trip without the expense of the boat. He is on vacation here this week, and two days from now returns to Rome where he works. We will stay there for a while, and then head back to pick up a charter in Antibes. Every day is different. Sometimes in the winter, we will keep the boat in the marina and I go to my home until it is warm enough for people to start cruising again. Other times we will go to the Caribbean and book some charters there. It depends upon the weather and what Gianluca wants to do. Dolce Far Niente- my boat- she is big enough to take on the Atlantic Ocean. We go down the coast of Morocco until we reach the Canary Islands and Cape Verde, then we cross the ocean to Barbados. It is not always easy, but it is always very beautiful.”

  “It sounds like a dream,” I said. “It must be so wonderful, to make your own schedule, to travel around and do whatever you like.”

  He nodded. “In many ways it is a dream life. But there is the other side to it that is not so good. It is somewhat a solitary life. Aside from the crew on the boat, it is hard to maintain relationships with people.” He sighed. “But! Tell me about your life, Julia. What do you do for a living?”

  I blushed. “Nothing nearly as exciting. I’m almost embarrassed to say it. When I was younger I worked teaching preschool- the little ones, two and three years old. Then my husband’s job started going very well so I stayed home and took care of the house. Recently I’ve tried to start a photography business- babies, weddings, that sort of thing.”

  “That sounds wonderful!” Sébastien exclaimed. “You are a guardian of so many wonderful memories. I am not very artistic. You must be very talented.”

  I looked down at my salad and shrugged, but I was smiling. I couldn’t remember the last time Bradley had even asked me a question about my fledgling business. “I try my best. The landscape here is so beautiful- the rocks, the sea- I’ve taken so many beautiful photos. The other day my friends and I rented scooters and went for a ride along the coast to this church in a little town high on a hill and it was the most stunning view I’ve ever seen.”

  Sébastien nodded. “I think I know which church you are speaking of. You are right; there is so much beauty in this area. So many who come here don’t even notice, they are just after the beaches, their drinks, and their yachts- I do not complain about those who come here for the yachts, that is how I have a job!- but there is so much beauty that goes unnoticed. I’m glad you are the kind of person who can stop and take a look around and appreciate what you see.”

  I smiled at him across the table. I hadn’t realized until now just how nice it was to sit down with a man and have him appreciate me for who I was. The past several months, every time Bradley and I had talked it had been about dentist appointments and taking the car for an oil change and signing Henry’s school reading log and we spent half the time on our phones. It felt wonderful to have someone’s undivided attention for a change.

  The waiter brought out the main course then- bouillabaisse, a hearty fish stew. It wasn’t what I would have expected Sébastien to choose, but it was delicious- rich and hearty yet not too heavy at the same time. For dessert we had pastis gascon, a type of caramel apple pie. And throughout the whole meal, a waiter discreetly topped up our wine glasses any time they crept near the bottom. “This is the best meal I’ve ever had,” I declared. “The food was delicious, the wine was excellent, and I thoroughly enjoyed the company.”

  He smiled back at me. “As did I. Would you like to go for a walk, or do you need to be back at your hotel?”

  “Oh, I don’t need to go back just yet,” I said quickly. “There’s still plenty of time tonight, and I didn’t make any plans to go out with my friends.” I was sure they were going out anyway- Ashley had seemed intent on dragging Megan and Becca along with her on another night out with Farooq- but I wasn’t in the mood for a crazy night, and a walk with Sébastien seemed just right.

  We made our way down to the marina and wandered along the edge of the water, looking at all of the boats. They weren’t all massive like the Dolce was- many of them looked like just large sailboats to me. Sébastien talked about growing up on the water and the time he had spent as a teenager crewing on a boat similar to those moored in front of us.

  “Will you be staying here in Monaco for long?” I asked him at one point.

  He hesitated. “Ah. No. Tomorrow evening we will set sail for Rome. That is where Gianluca lives, you see. He must be back to run his company a few days from now. He prefers to take his boat back and forth, so he can fun every minute of his time off. I have a charter leaving from Civitavecchia, the port of Rome, a week from now. I will be back here at some point,” he added. “Two weeks from now, I believe? Will you still be here?”

  “No,” I said, disappointed. “I have only about a week left before I go back to America. I’m disappointed. I liked having dinner with you- I would have liked to do it again,” I added, shyly.

  Sébastien stared off in to space. “Well...it may be too crazy,” he muttered. “Gianluca- oh, he always has plenty of guests. He would not even notice, I am sure. Please do not think I am crazy, but- how do you feel about Rome?”

  I almost fell off the boardwalk in to the water. “Rome?” I repeated.

  “Yes, Rome. The Dolce has a great many staterooms and can accommodate many guests. Gianluca will usually invite many people on board with him- he enjoys a good party, you see. He works very hard and he plays even harder. He will ask or sometimes, even pay people- models, you see- to join his parties when he travels from here to Rome. I know who all is coming because I am in charge of making sure the passenger manifest is up to date for when we must clear customs. I know we have at least one room available, likely two- these will not be the most luxurious rooms, as those all fill quickly, but there is space for four more people, I believe. Would you like to join our little boat and spend some time in Rome? There is much to see there,” he added. “Once we dock you will find yourself very busy seeing all the sights.”

  I hesitated. “I’d love to, it’s just- well, I’m here on a girls trip, with my friends. I couldn’t leave them. Spending the evening together is one thing, but just up and going to Rome- I couldn’t do that.”

  To my surprise, Sébastien laughed. “Oh, of course they are invited to come as well! I would not ask you to leave them behind.”

  I smiled with relief. “That sounds wonderful, then,” I said. “I’ll have to ask them tonight when I get back. How can I let you know?”

  “I will go ahead and assume they say yes,” he smiled, and pulled out his phone. “Just write their names in here, and I will add you all to the passenger manifest. We will be leaving at seven o’clock, from the same boat slip as before, and dinner will be served on board. I hope you all can make it. If you decide not to come, though, I will understand.”

  “I’m sure we’ll be there,” I said. “I can’t see the girls turning down a trip to Rome! I’m sure they’ll say yes.”

  I was right. When I arrived back at the room an hour and a half later, I found a note from Megan saying they were just hanging around the hotel bar tonight. I went down and found them all together. “Girls,” I said, “I’ve got a surprise for you. How would you like to travel to Rome tomorrow, on that amazing yacht from the party yesterday?”

  It wasn’t just a ‘yes’, but a resounding ‘HELL YES!’

  Chapter Six

  We boarded the Dolce Far Niente the next day at sunset, after saying goodbye to France and Monaco. We showed our passports to a crew member, who checked them against the passenger manifest and then pulled back a velvet rope to let us up the gangplank.

  The yacht had been completely cleaned up from the previous day when we’d attended the party. Instead of a packed deck, only a few people lounged about. A crew member showed us to our room on the th
ird level and told us where to find the dining room, where dinner would be served an hour after we set sail.

  “This is it?” asked Ashley, looking around. “This is like a ten million dollar yacht. This cubbyhole is the best they can do?”

  It was bigger than a cubbyhole, but not by much. Two bunks were against each wall, like the kind you would find in a college dorm or summer camp. True, they were made of shiny wood and the sheets felt soft and silky when I touched them, but they were still bunk beds. There was a door that led to our bathroom, and a small sink and vanity along with a mahogany chair in one corner. There were no luxuries like those found in the bigger staterooms on board- no table or chairs, no closet, no bathtub (let alone Jacuzzi).

  “Well, Sébastien did say that it was not a luxurious room,” I reminded her. “That’s why it was free the day before the boat was scheduled to leave. Besides, a free trip to Rome is better than no trip to Rome, right?”

  “You’re right,” admitted Ashley. “Still. I call dibs on the lower bunk.”

  “Where are we supposed to put our suitcases?” Megan wondered, looking around. “I mean, besides just heaping them in the middle of the room?”

  We spent a few minutes trying to shove suitcases under the bed, but our bags were so full that they wouldn’t fit. We decided they would indeed have to go on our beds during the day and sit in the middle of the cabin while we slept.

  “It’s okay, guys,” Becca tried to reassure us. “How much time will we be spending in here, anyway? The boat docks in Rome when, tomorrow afternoon? We’ll get dressed, go to dinner, maybe come back and change, check out whatever party is going on tonight, sleep here for a while, get up and then we can hang out on the deck until we get to Rome. It’s not like we’ll be hanging around in here.”

  “I hope Italians like the unwashed look,” Ashley grumbled. “Because I don’t think there is room for the four of us to shower and get dressed tomorrow morning. This isn’t how I was planning on making my Italian debut.”

  “Really?” I asked her. “Cruising up on a private yacht isn’t how you were imagining arriving in Italy?”

  Ashley paused. “Weell....”

  “Just don’t drink too much,” said Megan. “You’ll be fine tomorrow!”

  “I thought the point of travelling to Rome by yacht instead of flying or taking the train was so that we could drink a lot,” Ashley grumbled.

  “Well,” said Becca, “while Ashley is complaining about the size of the room and trying to hold back on alcohol, I’m going to enjoy myself. Right? Now, should we get changed for dinner?”

  If it had been chaotic fun trying to get dressed for a night out with my friends in a spacious hotel suite back in Monte Carlo, it was cramped and frustrating on the yacht. There was only one mirror, so we all had to either take turns or do each other’s makeup. Ashley was notoriously heavy handed with the eyeliner, and Becca wouldn’t let anybody else touch her eyes, so Megan and I let the two of them fight it out for the mirror while we worked on each other. We had to take turns opening our suitcases as well, since there just wasn’t enough room to have four bags opened up and four women trying to decide what to wear.

  “Are we ready to go?” Megan finally asked.

  “We better get a hotel with the biggest bathroom in Rome,” complained Ashley. “I think I threw out my back getting ready in such a tiny space.”

  “You’ll forget it all once you’ve had some food. And wine, of course,” I added. “Let’s go.” I led the way to the second deck, where several tables had been set up for dinner around the pool. We found seats and I looked around for Sébastien, until I realized that as the captain of the boat, he would probably be working and grabbing a quick something to eat, not sitting down to dine with all of the guests. I was disappointed since I’d hoped to be able to spend more time with him- just talking, of course- on board the yacht.

  In honor of our destination, a traditional Italian meal was served for dinner- antipasto, followed by both a primo and secondo course, accompanied by the contorno side dish, and then fruit and cheese before tiramisu for dessert and espresso. I ate and ate until I felt I was going to burst. “This was amazing,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “My God, I don’t know how Italian women are so skinny! First the French with all of the butter and pastries. Now Italy with all of the carbs. I’m going to have to buy a whole new wardrobe in Rome, because nothing is going to fit me anymore.”

  “I don’t even have room for another glass of wine,” said Ashley.

  “Wow,” said Becca. “No room for wine? That must have been a filling meal, Ash.”

  “Well,” said Ashley, “I mean, once I let everything digest a little and walk around a bit, I’ll have room for more wine.”

  “I hope nobody expects me to put my bathing suit on and get in the pool after eating this much,” said Megan, looking at the pool in the middle of the dining area.

  “I think they’re going to clear all these tables away and have a DJ or something, for dancing,” I said, looking around. “In an hour or so, that is. I think the Italians stay up even later than the French.”

  “Yes, but they take a nap in the middle of the day,” said Ashley. “I could go clubbing every night until four AM if I got to sleep for a few hours in the middle of the afternoon too.”

  We sat around for at least an hour, just talking and drinking, until the jazz quartet stopped playing and a DJ started up on the lower deck. People started to get up and walk around more, and a few of the model types began to dance around the pool. I knew that Sébastien had said that Gianluca liked to have a lot of fun and invite people to join him, but I thought we should try and find him and thank him for inviting us. “Do you think we should find Gianluca and introduce ourselves? Thank him for letting us come on this trip?”

  “Who’s Gianluca?” asked Becca.

  “The guy who owns the boat, remember? Sébastien works for him.”

  “He didn’t invite us, though,” said Ashley. “He probably has no clue who we are. I mean, do you think he invited everyone on here personally? If he owns this boat, he’s probably a rich old guy. He’s probably paying for half of these girls to be here, as models. If we thank anybody it should be your boat captain since he’s the one who got us on here. Let’s go do some shots, okay? This DJ is pretty great.”

  I decided it was fruitless to do anything but go along with Ashley, so we all did a shot at the bar and then went down to the bottom deck, where everyone was dancing.

  The DJ was pretty good, and I was able to forget everything for a while and just enjoy myself dancing with my friends. I ordered a fruity cocktail from the bar and danced until my feet hurt.

  Before long, though, Ashley had started plotting how to best approach a pair of attractive Italian-looking men standing by the bar. “What about Farooq?” I asked her.

  She sighed. “Oh, Julia. Farooq was a guy I met and had a crazy night with. I have no loyalty to him whatsoever. That guy over there is good looking, and he’s here. So that’s who I’m thinking about right now. Come on!”

  Spending my night helping Ashley pick up men wasn’t my idea of a good time. “I have to go to the bathroom,” I said. That tactic had worked very well for me before. “I’ll find you guys later.”

  Still clutching my drink, I slipped away. I did find and use the restroom, just so I could later tell her I wasn’t lying, but then I made my way back up to the pool deck. There were still people up there, but it was a more relaxed atmosphere with more people sitting or standing around, talking, rather than just dancing.

  I spotted the man I was pretty sure was Gianluca- like Ashley had said, a rich old guy in a white linen suit surrounded by a bevy of models- and thought about thanking him for inviting us along on his boat. I joined the fringe of a group crowded around him and tried to inch my way forward when a tall brunette in a low cut green dress shoved me with her elbow and glared at me. “Dégagez, alors!” she hissed.

  I didn’t understand her words, but I sure u
nderstood her message. I jumped back. “Oh! Um, sorry, I just thought I would try and thank-“

  “Go!” She held out her hand and shooed me away like I was a pesky fly. “You will not try and get with Gianluca!”

  I had no intentions of trying to get with Gianluca, but if that was where her mind was going, I figured that nothing I said would convince her otherwise, so I shrugged my shoulders and picked up another fruity drink at the bar. I leaned against the rail of the yacht for a few minutes, ostensibly looking out over the water, but my gaze kept drifting up.

  I wondered if Sébastien was up there in the bridge, steering the boat, looking out over the water too. Or maybe he was looking down, scanning the decks to watch the scene from above like some kind of documentary on human mating rituals. I wondered if he had picked me out of the crowd earlier. I wondered if he had been watching me all night. Oh God, had he been watching me dance earlier? I’d been having a blast with the girls, but I knew I was not the most coordinated dancer in the world.

  My drink was gone. I put the empty glass on a table, and quietly made my way down the hall and up the stairs to the third level, then up another flight of stairs to the bridge. My heart was pounding and I had to stop myself and take a few deep breaths. Then I raised my hand and knocked on the door.

  Chapter Seven

  I immediately regretted my decision.

  What if Sébastien wasn’t even on duty in the bridge? Or what if he was in there with somebody else? For one brief, immature second I considered running away around the corner and down the stairs, like an elementary school child ringing the doorbell and running away in a fit of laughter.

  When the door opened, it was a young sailor I didn’t recognize, and he said something to me I didn’t understand in French. “I’m sorry,” I apologized quickly. “I was looking for Sébastien, um, Captain Faucheux? Capitaine Faucheux?”

  I heard his voice then, yelling something out in French. The sailor shrugged and pushed his way past me, then started jogging towards the stairs. “Julia, come in,” I heard Sébastien call.