An Italian Dream

STELLA

Stella basked in the gentle warmth of the sun as she lay on the deck of the yacht. The cushions behind her propped her up just enough to see the view without having to move a muscle. They’d left Naples that morning and were now anchored off the Amalfi Coast, where, beyond the glittering azure blue of the sea, Positano was bathed in sunshine. White, cream, honey-yellow, russet-red and coral villas studded the steep hillside, while craggy ash-grey cliffs softened by olive-green foliage soared above the picturesque town.

She felt as if she was in a bubble, the sounds around her distant, the occasional deep voice of someone speaking in Italian, the soft giggles of Chloe and Amber posing at the front of the deck for Instagram-worthy shots with Positano as the backdrop, their tans showcased in tiny bikinis.

Despite the heat on her skin, the pop of colour from the surrounding vista and the gentle movement of the yacht, nothing seemed quite real, as if she was leading someone else’s life. The last twenty years had been a whirlwind: life with the kids and the complication of two failed marriages. Work had been her salvation, building her career and achieving things for herself, by herself. Not having to depend on anyone else, either her parents or a bloke, was her greatest achievement. That had all been down to hard work and juggling being a single mum with ruthless ambition. And then, with the Lottery, luck had played its part.

This could be her reality, not necessarily sailing around on a yacht, but how easy would it be to swap her life in a small town in the south-west of England for a slice of heaven on the Amalfi Coast, or anywhere else she chose to go. She knew it wasn’t that straightforward, not with Jacob at the age he was, but there was so much she could do to make their lives better. She didn’t have to completely uproot them; she had the means now to buy a holiday villa somewhere hot, somewhere far from home, a place to escape to.

‘I thought you might be thirsty.’

A deep voice with an Italian accent broke through her thoughts. She looked up into Luca’s grinning face. He was holding a turquoise-coloured cocktail topped with a maraschino cherry and a slice of lemon.

‘A little early in the day, isn’t it?’

Luca pulled a face. ‘Never too early.’

Her fingers brushed his as she took the glass from him. ‘Thank you.’

He was the eldest of the group, somewhere in his mid-thirties, Stella reckoned. A little younger than she was. She’d got to the age where she noticed an age gap that wouldn’t have bothered her just a few years ago. The last thing she wanted to do was fixate on him being younger than her, yet getting older had been playing on her mind for a while.

Luca slid onto the daybed next to her, a bottle of beer clasped in his hand.

‘It is a good spot for Instagram,’ he said, nodding towards the girls. ‘You don’t join them?’

‘I’m not all that fussed about splashing myself across social media. And I’m not sure Chloe would be too happy about her mum being in the picture.’ Stella raised her glass and took a sip.

‘Sister maybe.’

‘You’re a smooth talker.’

He put his hand to his chest and pretended to look abashed. ‘I speak the truth.’

‘You’re very kind.’

Stella was drawn to him, much like she suspected he was drawn to her. The girls had been flirting with all four of them – and a couple of the young male crew members too – but Luca reserved his attention for her. They were closest in age after all. It also must have been apparent to him after spending time with Chloe and Amber just how young they were. She’d forgotten what it was like to be that age with no responsibilities, just a desire to have fun and to be swept up in the romance of being young, free and single. She envied the way they didn’t seem to worry about their actions, while she was overtly conscious of where her flirtation with Luca would lead. She sighed. She was getting strung up by overthinking rather than simply having fun. Wasn’t that what she’d promised herself this holiday to Capri would be all about?

Paul had stirred things up again with his late-night drunken message. She should have put a stop to it a long time ago. Although when she thought about it, she had. It had been a one-time thing. Twice if she counted the night they’d spent together when she was seventeen. But that had been before he’d got together with Fern. She was kidding herself that it didn’t count, not when Fern was unaware of it and not when they’d repeated that night while he was married to her best friend. And even though they hadn’t slept together since, the messaging and flirtation between them had got out of control. Her life had been entwined with Paul’s and Fern’s for two decades. Time to sever the link. She clenched her fists. She couldn’t lose Fern; their friendship meant too much, and she knew how that sounded when she’d treated her friend the way she had.

She shifted on the daybed, suddenly uneasy about where her thoughts had drifted to. The sun was at the hottest part of the day, caressing her bare skin with its comfortable heat. They had both fallen silent, lying half propped on the cushions, their shoulders touching. Stella was only wearing a bikini with a sheer cover-up over the top and Luca was just in shorts. His smooth chest was in her eyeline, his arm resting on his tanned muscled leg. She breathed in his scent, her heart fluttering. She always had liked the chase, the flirting, the bit that came before a relationship. This was what she enjoyed and was good at, getting to know someone, chatting, the thrill of building up to the first kiss and eventually the first night together. It was once the honeymoon period was over she struggled. Perhaps she needed to remain single, although she couldn’t continue messing around like a lovestruck teenager after she was forty, could she?

She turned slightly to face Luca, conscious that the movement had emphasised her cleavage. His eyes drifted downwards, then flicked up and rested on her face. He grinned. She knew exactly what she was doing.

‘I can’t thank you enough for inviting us with you.’

‘I’m glad you said yes.’

‘We’d have never done anything like this otherwise.’

‘No?’ He frowned. ‘Even with all your new money?’

Stella wrinkled her nose.

‘It is nothing to be ashamed about, being wealthy, even if many people make us feel that way.’

‘Oh, I’m not ashamed, I’m just not used to it. I’ve done okay for myself, but I’ve always had to be careful. I’ve never been able to treat myself without worrying about it.’

‘You have no husband?’ His words were loaded.