Page 6 of Bound to You

“Wow,” is all I can manage.

This place is the definition of picturesque, heavenly even, with gorgeous villas lining the landscape in front of us. Most of them are shades of cream and pink, but there are hues of orange and yellow peeking through every now and then. Together, they form a perfect cohesive and charming style that complements each other and their surroundings.

Bougainvillea and other plants overhang door frames and climb up the stucco walls of the buildings, almost as if the nature is inviting them to stay. As if these places are meant to be here and always will be.

“Ruby Cove?” May asks while moving to look out her own window.

“Sì,” Caio nods. “You will find some of the most gorgeous sunsets you’ve ever seen in this little corner of the world. Almost every evening in the summer, the sky burns in an array of oranges and pinks, slowly transforming day to night.” His words paint a dreamy picture in my head.

“A group of English fishermen settled here in the eighteen hundreds, so you’ll find many English speakers here. It’s always stayed a little mix of both,” he explains. “When the fishermen used to come back to dock after a day on the water, the sun would often cast a pink hue over the whole town and the water as it set over the horizon. So that’s what they called it—their little Ruby Cove. And it just stuck.”

“Huh. Cute,” May says, her eyes still glued to the window.

“The locals have really played off of it in more recent years. Some people painted their places pink, while some just added more pink flowers in their gardens. We get a few tourists around here, and the community just finds it a fun part of the heritage.”

“It’s charming,” I add. Because that’s exactly how I would explain this place. It looks full of history and character, and I suspect full of stories.

“This is where the real heart of the town lies,” Caio says with a proud smile as we round the corner.

The water immediately catches my eye. The sun glints off the small waves lapping against the dock that lines this end of the street where boats of all sizes are tied up, from dinghies to yachts. But this is only a small portion, I realize, as my eyes fall on all the boats out on the ocean, the afternoon breeze catching in their colorful sails.

Would we have ever found this place if not for Caio? As I look at the scenery out my window, a small part of me is grateful that he is the person that happened to come across us. Okay, a big part of me.

A stone wall separates the sidewalk from the ocean with a set of stairs leading into the water, but the locals ignore them as they run from the street and jump off the edge, bombing into the turquoise water, hooting and hollering at each other. The saltwater sprinkling over the footpath as it lands.

My eyes wander to the other side of the street, where gorgeous historic buildings stand side by side. The street is made up of small cafes and bakeries, all with customers lined up out the door and onto the cobbled footpath.

I think we’ll have to make a stop in one of those before we leave.

There are jewelry stores and galleries, little boutiques and bookstores. It’s beautiful.

“It all looks so local,” I think out loud.

“That’s because it is,” Caio replies. “These buildings on the waterfront are all original and are the places that those famous sunsets cast the brightest glow on.”

This place feels perfect now. I can only imagine how captivating it would be as the sun goes to sleep.

“Pretty much every business you see here is run by a local family and always has been. They pass the businesses downfrom generation to generation. This is one of those places where everyone knows everyone, and everyone is up in each other's business,” he chuckles. “But there’s a big sense of community. As much as everyone is nosy, everyone is willing to help each other out when push comes to shove.”

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” I admit as we keep rolling down the street.

I pay more attention to the people now. An older man walks out of a watchmaker with a jig in his step while wrapping what I can assume is a new watch around his wrist. He passes by a woman carrying a colossal roll of cheese and they greet each other with big smiles before carrying on in their own directions.

They look so content. A stark contrast to the people at home, frowning as they trudge around the crowded streets of New York, or yelling and flipping the bird at a yellow cab that nearly ran them over on their daily rush to the office.

This is definitely the kind of place you could fall in love with—where you can come and go, but a piece of your soul will always belong here, as if a tiny piece of your heart will always be tied up to those docks.

“I can still take you to Sorrento if you prefer,” Caio says with a knowing smirk.

“Hell no. If this place you’re talking about has a vacant room, I don’t think I’ll ever leave,” May says with a dreamy expression.

I shake my head, smiling over at her. How is this where we ended up? I should’ve expected the unexpected, given that I’m here with May. But maybe this trip isn’t doomed after all, considering we are still alive and driving into what looks like a dream.

“Thank you, Caio, for bringing us here,” I say gratefully before swallowing my pride to add, “and for helping with the car.”

His eyes lock with mine in the rear-view mirror. “Don’t mention it,” he replies with a wink.

We continue drivingthrough the center of Ruby Cove and come out the other side before driving up a small hill and reaching yet another breathtaking street. Every street here is welcoming and picturesque, like something from a fairytale. The road comes to a cul-de-sac at the top of the slope, and impressive buildings surround us as we coast towards the end of the street.

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