Page 37 of Something Like Fate

“You excited for tonight?” he asks.

I try to recall our group’s itinerary for the evening, but my brain is basically mush at this point. “What’s tonight again?”

“The most romantic activity in all of Italy. Gondola rides.”

11

Caleb is right. There’s nothing more romantic than a gondola ride at sunset in Venice.

Everything about it screams romance. The main canal is cast in warm, orange sunlight, the calm water reflecting it like fireflies. Handcrafted wooden gondolas are stationed in neat rows, all handled by young, fit Italian men in classic red-and-white-striped shirts.

I can picture it now—the moment Caleb and I fall in love. It will be like the movies as we float under the majestic Rialto Bridge.

As though fate knew I needed a win, our rucksacks were waiting at the hostel when we returned from the walking tour. Teller nearly teared up using his own toothbrush and wearing his slippers for the first time in days. And while I’m grateful to have my floral shift dress with dramatic ruffle sleeves for tonight (Bianca says it elongates my legs), I think about what Caleb said about being happier without material things. Making do with less. I can’t help but feel silly for packing so much.

Our group crowds along the dock, waiting to board the gondolas, which appear to seat two at a time. Caleb is chatting with Posie. He’s dressed in a snug Henley that accentuates his muscles. I’m sure he could give these fit gondola drivers a run for their money.

He waves me over. “Wow, you look incredible.”

“You told me to expect romance,” I say, nodding toward the empty boat to our right. “Are we taking this boat?”

“I would absolutely love to. It’s just—” He nervously runs a hand over the back of his neck, and my heart nearly falls out of my body. He’s about to tell me I’ve got it all wrong. To get lost because he’s not interested, or that he’s got a girlfriend, or he’s betrothed.

I squeeze my eyes shut, bracing for the worst.

“I already told another beautiful lady I’d go with her. Posie,” he whispers, flashing her a pearly smile as she approaches. “Ernest isn’t here because of his hip. I guess he overdid it today. She was saying how much she was looking forward to the gondola, and I don’t want her to have to ride alone. I hope that’s okay. Can we do a rain check?”

He says it so adorably, I can’t possibly be disappointed. In fact, I think my ovaries have exploded. There’s nothing more attractive than a man who’s kind and thoughtful to senior citizens. “Of course. No worries at all.”

He gives me a quick smile before taking Posie’s arm and helping her into the wobbly boat. It’s quite frankly the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. There’s a velvet upholstered love seat facing the water and then a smaller bench with a side view.

I find Teller seated on a bench on the dock, staring at the water like it’s raw sewage. He’s still rigid, jaw clenched, white-knuckling the bench so tight, the veins protrude in his forearms, and his face is the grayish shade of oatmeal.

“I thought you’d be riding the gondola with Riley,” I say, plopping down next to him. He spent most of the walking tour with her today, and from the looks of it, there was some heavy flirting.

“She asked me to. But I hate water. You know that.” I feel like a dimwit. He’s always hated water. I found that out soon after we first met. He was staying home all weekend while his family went out to a family friend’s cottage on the lake.

“Ah yes. Water—your sworn enemy.”

“Who knows what lurks beneath,” he says, vaguely gesturing to the canal.

“Probably lots of teeny-tiny fish. And bits of trash from tourists, from the looks of it.”

His eyes bulge and he sits up a little straighter. “Okay, but this is the Adriatic Sea, which is connected to the literal ocean, of which eighty percent is unexplored. We can’t even begin to imagine what lives down there.”

“You’re really going to pass up a once-in-a-lifetime Venetian opportunity for the minuscule chance you’ll fall overboard?”

He shrugs. “I haven’t decided yet.”

I can’t help but crack a smile. “Say you did fall overboard, which you won’t—”

“I might.”

“Highly unlikely.”

“I could. Do you see the bags under these guys’ eyes? They’re way too exhausted to be any use in an emergency situation.”

He’s not wrong. Beyond the muscles and good looks, some of the drivers are a tad gaunt and dead-eyed. According to Gia, they’re livelier earlier in the day, which makes sense. Driving a gondola all day looks labor intensive.

---