#and white counters. glass pendant lights

[meineroarchitects]

Bathroom - Powder Room

[passionoverfashion]

Kitchen Great Room in Orlando

Open concept kitchen - large transitional u-shaped light wood floor and brown floor open concept kitchen idea with an undermount sink, shaker cabinets, yellow cabinets, granite countertops, gray backsplash, marble backsplash, stainless steel appliances, an island and white countertops

[paulbeige]

Charleston Kitchen Inspiration for a large farmhouse l-shaped brown floor and medium tone wood floor eat-in kitchen remodel with a farmhouse sink, white cabinets, paneled appliances, an island, white countertops, recessed-panel cabinets, marble countertops, multicolored backsplash and ceramic backsplash

[illillsa]

Kitchen Great Room Open concept kitchen - mid-sized contemporary l-shaped dark wood floor and brown floor open concept kitchen idea with an undermount sink, flat-panel cabinets, gray cabinets, quartz countertops, white backsplash, quartz backsplash, stainless steel appliances, an island and white countertops

[lipfordstreet391]

Bathroom Master Bath New York Corner shower - mid-sized traditional master white tile and marble tile porcelain tile and gray floor corner shower idea with a one-piece toilet, quartzite countertops, a hinged shower door, recessed-panel cabinets, gray cabinets, white walls, an undermount sink and white countertops

[retaliationgraphics]

Dining - Transitional Kitchen Eat-in kitchen with a beige floor and medium-sized transitional l-shaped porcelain tiles. A farmhouse sink, shaker cabinets, white cabinets, quartz countertops, a white backsplash, a marble backsplash, stainless steel appliances, and an island are all featured in this concept for an eat-in kitchen.

[sicilylapse]

Kitchen - Farmhouse Kitchen Inspiration for a mid-sized country u-shaped medium tone wood floor eat-in kitchen remodel with an undermount sink, shaker cabinets, gray cabinets, quartzite countertops, gray backsplash, stone tile backsplash, stainless steel appliances and an island

[clasesdeperiodismo]

Seattle Great Room Kitchen An undermount sink, shaker cabinets, white cabinets, quartz countertops, white backsplash, porcelain backsplash, stainless steel appliances, an island, and white countertops are all featured in this mid-sized transitional l-shaped open concept kitchen design.

[bikerfish]

Open Living Room Miami

An illustration of a mid-sized, contemporary, open-concept living room with multicolored walls, a media wall, and no fireplace and light wood flooring.

[mrs-storm]

Transitional Kitchen - Dining Photo of a large transitional l-shaped eat-in kitchen with a medium tone wood floor, a farmhouse sink, shaker cabinets, white cabinets, marble countertops, gray backsplash, an island, stone tile backsplash, and paneled appliances

[mizzoualphaphi]

Richmond Enclosed Kitchen Inspiration for a large, enclosed, country kitchen remodel with a farmhouse sink, white cabinets, wood countertops, white backsplash, subway tile backsplash, stainless steel appliances, an island, brown countertops, and shaker cabinets in a medium-tone wood floor and brown floor combination.

[elodiegendreau]

Kitchen - Great Room Mid-sized transitional l-shaped open concept kitchen with a vinyl floor and brown floor, an undermount sink, shaker cabinets, white cabinets, granite countertops, multicolored backsplash, porcelain backsplash, white appliances, an island, and beige countertops.

[happythebluecat]

Living Room Miami Example of a mid-sized trendy open concept light wood floor and white floor living room design with multicolored walls, a media wall and no fireplace

[curlyrps]

Kitchen (Denver)

[carlos-arl]

Dining in Detroit

[theonottsbxtch]

SUMMER OF LOVE | CS55

an: i can’t remember how this idea came to me but me and rhi ( @iimplicitt ) were losing our minds at this concept eheheh

wc: 4,2k

"Have I ever told you about the summer I fell in love?"

Her voice was soft, her words carrying the weight of a memory so vivid, it might have been yesterday. Her grandchildren, sprawled on the living room floor with curious, wide eyes, shook their heads.

"Nonna had a romance?" one of them teased, the youngest, her freckles scrunched with disbelief.

She smiled, the kind of smile that knew things, and reached for the delicate chain around her neck. Dangling from it was a small, sea-glass pendant, its edges smoothed by the tides of time.

"It was on the Amalfi Coast," she began, her voice faraway now, as though the waves themselves had come to pull her back. "I was young, too young to know better. And his name was Carlos."

The room seemed to fall silent, except for the soft clink of rain against the window.

"Was he handsome?" one of the older grandchildren asked, leaning in.

She chuckled, low and warm. "Handsome doesn’t quite cover it. He was... larger than life. Carlos had this way about him—like the sun rose just to warm his skin, like every room he entered belonged to him." She paused, her gaze slipping past them, beyond the room. "But that was the summer I learned something important. The things that seem too perfect are usually hiding something."

For a moment, no one said anything. Then she leaned back in her chair, and the spell broke, just enough to let her voice return. "But it was still the most beautiful summer of my life. Let me tell you how it began..."

The summer of straight out of university unfurled like a dream. She had just turned twenty-one, brimming with the kind of naive hope that made her believe anything was possible. She and her best friend, Emilia, had spent months scraping together every spare coin, renting a modest villa just outside Positano. The place was small, with paint flaking from its whitewashed walls and shutters that groaned in the evening wind, but the terrace was draped in bougainvillea, and the view—a vast, shimmering stretch of the Tyrrhenian Sea—was worth every sacrifice.

That was where she first saw him.

The morning had been spent on the beach, lying on striped towels under the relentless Italian sun. By early afternoon, their shoulders were warm and pink, their hair damp with sea salt, and they’d wandered into a small harbor café for spritzes and shade.

She wore a yellow sundress Emilia had insisted she pack. “It’s perfect for you,” Emilia had said that morning, tying the straps just right. The dress clung to her lightly tanned skin, and for the first time in a while, she felt... beautiful.

And then he walked in.

He wasn’t just handsome—he was magnetic. He had the kind of presence that made strangers turn their heads, as if sensing something larger than life in their midst. Carlos wore an unbuttoned white linen shirt and tan trousers that looked effortless, but the real allure was in the way he carried himself. As though the summer sun and the breeze off the water were his alone.

“Who is that?” Emilia whispered, wide-eyed.

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Her heart was thudding in her chest, her eyes fixed on him as he strolled to the counter.

Carlos ordered a coffee in fluent, easy Italian, exchanged a few words with the waiter, and smiled—a slow, devastating smile that seemed to brighten the whole café. He didn’t look at her until he turned to leave, but when he did, their eyes met briefly. Just a glance, quick and electric.

That evening, the village square came alive with music and laughter. String lights twinkled above the cobblestones, and the air smelled of grilled seafood and wine. She spun under the lights, her sandals kicking up dust as Emilia urged her to dance. The world felt infinite, golden, and free.

She didn’t notice Carlos at first. But then, in the middle of a spin, she felt a hand catch hers.

She turned, and there he was.

“Carlos,” he said simply, as if introducing himself was the most natural thing in the world.

“May have to wait for that,” she replied, her voice quieter than she intended.

He smiled again, and in that moment, it felt like nothing could go wrong. She couldn’t have known what lay ahead, couldn’t have guessed that something so dazzling could carry the weight of a secret. All she knew was that, for the first time in her life, she felt utterly alive.

Carlos didn’t let go of her hand right away. Instead, he led her toward the edge of the square, where the noise of the festa softened into a hum and the scent of lemons hung heavy in the night air.

“Are you visiting Positano?” he asked, his what seemed to be a Spanish accent lacing his words, smooth and melodic.

She nodded, trying to steady her voice. “Yes. Just for the summer.”

His dark eyes lingered on her, studying her as if committing every detail to memory. “Then I’m lucky to have met you. Summers go by so quickly.”

She smiled, feeling both shy and bold under his gaze. “What about you? Do you live here?”

“No,” he said with a shake of his head, his curls catching the light. “I’m only passing through. A few weeks, maybe less. Work, mostly.”

She tilted her head. “Work? On the Amalfi Coast?”

Carlos laughed, a low, rich sound that made her pulse quicken. “Not a bad place for it, is it? I’m… well, it’s complicated. But let’s not talk about work.”

“Alright,” she said, her smile widening. “What should we talk about, then?”

Carlos stepped closer, his voice soft. “Tell me about you. Why did you come to Positano?”

She hesitated, not sure what he wanted to hear. The truth felt almost too simple. “It’s beautiful here,” she said after a moment. “And I wanted—no, I needed—to feel something different. To get away, to see more of the world before...”

“Before what?”

She laughed nervously. “Before real life starts, I suppose.”

Carlos nodded, his expression turning thoughtful. “I understand that. Sometimes it feels like we only have a little time to be free, doesn’t it?”

The words settled between them, heavier than the moment called for, but she didn’t mind. She felt as if he saw right through her—past the yellow sundress, past the carefree dances under string lights, straight into the part of her that had always craved something more.

He offered her his hand again. “Dance with me.”

She hesitated, glancing back at the crowd in the square. “There’s no music here.”

Carlos smiled. “Do we need it?”

Before she could answer, he spun her gently into his arms. The world seemed to narrow around them, until it was only the sound of her breath and the quiet rustle of leaves in the warm breeze. He moved with an ease that matched the confidence in his smile, leading her as if they’d done this a hundred times before.

She laughed, the sound light and unguarded, and for the first time in a long while, she stopped thinking. She stopped wondering what came next, or what was expected, and let herself fall into the moment.

For the rest of the night, Carlos stayed by her side. They wandered through the winding streets of the village, talking about nothing and everything, until the festa died down and the moon hung high over the cliffs.

At her villa, just as the horizon began to blush with the first hints of dawn, he paused at the gate.

“I’d like to see you again,” he said, his voice low.

She hesitated. She wanted to say yes, but the intensity of his gaze unnerved her, as though she were stepping into something she didn’t fully understand. Still, she found herself nodding.

“Tomorrow?”

Carlos smiled, and for a moment, he looked almost relieved. “Tomorrow,” he said. Then, with one last lingering glance, he turned and disappeared into the pale light of morning.

She stood there for a long time, the stone of the villa cool beneath her palms, wondering how it was possible to meet someone who made the rest of the world feel small.

Over the next week, Carlos became a constant presence in her  life. He seemed to know exactly where to find her, whether she was perched on the terrace with a book or wandering through the narrow streets of Positano. Every day, he’d appear with that same easy confidence, carrying two gelatos, or a bundle of lemons he’d picked from a nearby grove, or a suggestion for some new adventure.

They swam in hidden coves where the water was impossibly blue. They hiked to quiet hilltops, where the sea stretched endlessly beneath them. They danced again in the village square when another festa lit up the night, and Carlos spun her so wildly that she laughed until her ribs ached.

Emilia noticed, of course. She watched with a smirk as Carlos whisked her away each day, teasing her endlessly when they returned.

“I like this for you,” Emilia said one night as they lounged on the villa’s terrace. A bottle of wine sat between them, the remains of dinner scattered on their plates. “You deserve a little romance.”

She smiled, swirling her glass. “It’s more than a little, isn’t it?”

Emilia raised an eyebrow. “Is it?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted, her cheeks warming. “It feels… big. Like I’m living in someone else’s story.”

Emilia grinned. “That’s how you know it’s good.”

As the week went on, she found herself looking forward to Carlos’ visits more and more. She didn’t just enjoy his company—she craved it. The way he made her laugh, the way he seemed to really see her, the way his stories always hinted at some grander, more mysterious life just beyond her reach.

And then, on the last evening of the week, as they stood on the terrace overlooking the sea, Carlos said something that caught her completely off guard.

“Stay,” he said simply.

She turned to him, startled. “Stay?”

“For another week,” he clarified, leaning against the railing. “Don’t leave tomorrow. Stay here, in my villa. Let me show you more. One more week—it’s nothing.”

Her heart fluttered at the way he said it, so casually, as if the world would bend to make it happen.

“I can’t just… stay,” she said, though her voice lacked conviction.

“Why not?” Carlos smiled, leaning closer. “Your life will still be waiting for you when you leave. But this—” he gestured to the view, to the stars scattered over the sea—“this won’t wait.”

When Carlos finally left that night, she found herself pacing the villa, unsure what to do. She turned to Emilia, who was stretched out on the couch, flipping through a guidebook.

“So,” Emilia said, not even looking up, “what did he want?”

She hesitated. “He asked me to stay.”

Emilia sat up, her eyes lighting up. “And what did you say?”

“I didn’t say anything.” She chewed her lip, pacing again. “I don’t know what to say. I mean, I like him—”

“You like him?” Emilia interrupted with a laugh. “Chica, you’re practically glowing every time he walks into a room. Let’s not downplay it.”

She sank onto the couch beside her, covering her face with her hands. “I think I’m catching feelings for him,” she admitted, her voice muffled.

Emilia’s grin softened into something kinder. “Good,” she said. “You should. Isn’t that the whole point of a summer like this?”

She peeked through her fingers. “But what if it’s a bad idea?”

Emilia shrugged, pouring the last of the wine into her glass. “Then it’s a bad idea you’ll never forget. But if you don’t stay, you’ll spend the rest of your life wondering what might’ve happened.”

She stayed quiet for a long moment, staring out at the night. The stars felt closer here, the world smaller and brighter. She could already imagine what one more week with Carlos might feel like—the laughter, the late nights, the way her chest tightened every time he looked at her.

Emilia nudged her. “So? What are you going to do?”

She smiled softly, her decision already forming.

“I’m going to stay.”

Her extra week in Positano felt like stepping into another world, one that existed just for the two of them. With each passing day, Carlos became more ingrained in her life—guiding her to places tourists never found, introducing her to the quiet beauty of sunrises on the cliffs and the music of waves crashing against hidden coves.

They spent hours talking, laughing, and sharing pieces of themselves. He told her about his childhood, how he’d grown up by the sea but had spent most of his adult life in cities that never seemed to sleep. She told him about her love of art, her dreams of finding a life that felt as vibrant as the colors on her canvas.

The days blurred into golden afternoons and soft evenings, and each moment with Carlos felt lighter than air.

But it was the night before her second departure when everything changed.

They were sitting on the terrace of the villa, the stars bright and close overhead. The wine they’d been sipping was nearly gone, and the air was thick with the scent of salt and bougainvillea. Carlos had been quiet, uncharacteristically so, leaning back in his chair as if lost in thought.

She reached over, brushing her fingers against his hand. “What are you thinking about?” she asked softly.

He glanced at her, his expression unreadable. “Nothing worth troubling you with.”

She laughed, light and soft. “You think too much.”

“And you don’t think enough,” he countered with a faint smile, his eyes meeting hers.

She hesitated, her heart beating faster. She felt as though the night were holding its breath, the world tilting slightly. The words came before she could stop them.

“I think I’m falling in love with you.”

For a moment, the only sound was the distant crash of the waves below.

Carlos didn’t move, didn’t speak. His eyes darkened, his expression tightening just enough for her to notice.

Panic shot through her chest. She pulled her hand back quickly. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice trembling. “I didn’t mean to— I don’t know why I—”

“Amore, stop,” he interrupted gently, but she couldn’t meet his eyes.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” she muttered, rising from her chair. “I’ve ruined everything, haven’t I? I knew this wasn’t—”

“Amore,” he said again, more firmly this time, standing and catching her wrist. “Don’t. You haven’t ruined anything.”

She turned to him then, her eyes glistening, searching his face for something—anything—that would make her feel less foolish. But what she saw only confused her more.

“Then why do you look like that?” she whispered.

Carlos closed his eyes for a moment, his grip on her wrist loosening. When he opened them again, there was something pained in his expression, something she couldn’t place.

“I didn’t want this to happen,” he said softly.

Her stomach sank. “Didn’t want what to happen?”

He let out a breath, running a hand through his hair. “Amore, I—” He paused, as if searching for the right words. “I wasn’t honest with you. From the beginning.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, her voice barely audible.

“I have someone waiting for me,” he said finally, his voice heavy. “Back in Monaco. A fiancée.”

The word hung in the air, sharp and cutting. She froze, her mind racing, trying to make sense of what he’d just said.

“A… fiancée?” she repeated, her voice hollow.

“Yes.” He looked at her, his expression pleading now. “I never meant to hurt you, amore. I didn’t expect to meet someone like you.”

She stepped back, shaking her head. “So what was this, then? A game? A way to pass the time before you went back to her?”

“No, it wasn’t like that,” Carlos said quickly, his voice breaking. “It was real. Every moment with you was real.”

She stared at him, her heart splitting in two. “But it doesn’t matter, does it? You’re going back to her.”

Carlos didn’t answer right away. His silence was all the confirmation she needed.

Tears welled in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She turned away, gripping the edge of the terrace railing as the wind whipped her hair around her face. “You should leave,” she said finally, her voice trembling.

“Amore—”

“Stop calling me that!” she shouted, cutting him off. “You have a fiancée?” she repeated, her voice trembling with both disbelief and fury.

“Yes,” Carlos said quietly, his shoulders slumping. “But it’s not… it’s complicated.”

Her laugh was sharp and bitter. “What could possibly be complicated about being engaged and then spending two weeks seducing someone else?”

He took a step closer, his hands open, pleading. “She made me marry her.”

She froze, her brow furrowing in confusion. “What?”

Carlos looked at her, desperation etched in his features. “She made me. Or she’d leave me.”

Her mouth fell open, and for a moment, she couldn’t find the words. When they finally came, they were laced with disbelief. “Made you? What do you mean, made you? Are you some kind of dog, Carlos?”

His jaw tightened, and he looked away, ashamed. “It’s… it’s more complicated than you think. In my line of work. There are a type of people I should be seen with. If I didn’t agree—”

“Then she’d leave you,” she finished coldly. “And you couldn’t stand that, could you?”

Carlos’s eyes darted back to her. “It’s not like that.”

“Then tell me what it’s like,” she snapped, her voice breaking.

“I don’t love her,” he said quickly, his voice rising. “I love you.”

Her heart wavered for a moment, but her anger flared again, overpowering the fragile flicker of hope. “Then why don’t you break up with her? I don’t understand.”

Carlos ran a hand through his hair, his frustration mounting. “That’s the problem.”

Her laugh was sharp, cutting through the night. “The problem? Carlos, what does that even mean? Do you love her or not?”

“No!” he said, stepping closer. “I told you, I don’t love her. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.”

She stared at him, her chest heaving with the weight of his words. She wanted to believe him—wanted to believe that the past week hadn’t been a lie. But something inside her cracked, a voice of reason cutting through the chaos.

“And who’s to say you won’t find another young thing in another sunny place and do the same thing to me?” she asked, her voice quiet but firm.

Carlos recoiled as if she’d slapped him, his face falling. “Amore… it’s not like that. I swear, it’s not.”

“Isn’t it?” she shot back, her eyes narrowing. “You’re standing here, telling me you love me, but you’re also telling me you’re tied to someone else. What am I supposed to do with that, Carlos? What kind of future could we even have?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. For the first time, Carlos seemed uncertain, his usual confidence faltering.

She shook her head, stepping back toward the railing. “You don’t even know what you want, do you? You want me, but you won’t let go of her. You want both, and that’s not love, Carlos. That’s selfish.”

“Amore,” he said softly, reaching for her, but she pulled away.

“No,” she said, her voice firm. “I think you should leave. I can’t… I can’t do this anymore.”

For a long moment, he stood there, as if trying to find the right words to stop her from slipping away. But there was nothing he could say, and he knew it.

Without another word, he turned and walked into the darkness, leaving her alone on the terrace, her tears finally falling as she gripped the cool stone railing.

She’d come to Positano searching for freedom, for something bigger than the life she’d left behind. But now, she felt more trapped than ever, chained to a memory she’d never quite escape.

“And so,” she continued, her voice soft, tinged with a wistful smile, “I left Positano. I packed my things, kissed the sea goodbye, and never looked back.”

The youngest leaned forward, her dark curls bouncing. “But what happened, Nonna?”

She tilted her head, her gaze distant, as though she were looking out at the cliffs of Positano again, the sea shimmering beneath her memory.

“He loved another woman,” she said simply, her voice steady despite the weight of the words.

“And what happened to her?” asked the eldest, his voice filled with curiosity.

She smiled faintly, leaning back in her chair. “He fell out of love.” She let the silence linger for a moment before adding, “And I didn’t wait for him. Instead, I met your abuelo.”

The children exchanged glances, the story lingering between them. Finally, the youngest spoke again, her voice cautious. “Nonna, did you ever… stay in touch with him?”

Her smile faltered, just slightly. She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she stood, smoothing her skirt with her hands. “Wait here,” she said, her voice quieter now.

She crossed the room, her steps deliberate, and opened the door to her bedroom. The grandchildren exchanged curious looks but didn’t follow, their gazes tracking her as she disappeared into the wardrobe.

Moments later, she returned, a small wooden box in her hands. The edges were worn with age, but it was polished and cared for, as though it had been opened and closed countless times. She placed it gently on the coffee table and sat back down, her hands folded in her lap.

“What’s in there?” asked the middle child, her voice barely above a whisper.

She hesitated for a moment before opening the lid. Inside were dozens of letters, all neatly tied with faded ribbons. The envelopes were yellowed with time, but the handwriting on each one was unmistakably bold, slanted, and familiar.

The eldest leaned closer, picking up one of the letters. On the front, her name was written in Carlos’ elegant script. When he turned it over, he froze.

“Abuela,” he said, his eyes wide, “es el piloto de Ferrari?”

Her lips pressed into a thin smile, her eyes softening with a mix of emotions. She reached over and took the letter from him, her fingers lingering on the edges of the paper.

“To me,” she said softly, “he was just Carlos.”

The room fell silent, the letters resting on the table like echoes of a life she hadn’t shared before. Her grandchildren didn’t speak, sensing that this part of the story didn’t need more words. She glanced at the letters one last time before carefully closing the lid of the box.

“So what you’re saying is… our abuelo could have been Carlos Sainz?” The only boy said.

His sister gasped, her hands flying to her cheeks, while the youngest giggled, nudging her brother.

Her stern look didn’t last long before her lips curved into a small smile. “Mira,” she said, leaning forward slightly, her tone serious but warm, “if your heart tells you something, believe it.”

The grandchildren quieted, their attention snapping back to her.

She gestured to the box on the table. “There was a time when my heart told me to stay. To hold on to a dream. But it also told me to walk away, even when it hurt.” Her voice softened, her gaze drifting again to a place only she could see. “And because I listened, I found your abuelo. I found a love that was steady and strong, one that didn’t ask me to sacrifice myself.”

The children were quiet, absorbing her words.

The eldest broke the silence, her voice small but curious. “But… do you think you made the right choice, Nonna?”

She smiled gently. “I know I did,” she said. “Because if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have the three of you sitting here, making a mess of my living room.”

The children laughed, the heaviness of the moment lifting just a little.

The boy grinned again, though his voice was softer this time. “Still, it’s kind of crazy. We could’ve been the grandchildren of a Ferrari legend.”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “Ay, chico. Legends don’t make families. Your abuelo gave me something far greater than any title or fame ever could.”

She reached out, pulling him close and pressing a kiss to his hair. Then she looked at each of them in turn, her voice steady but full of warmth. “Remember this, mi amor. Listen to your heart. But make sure it leads you somewhere worth staying.”

For a moment, the grandchildren were silent, watching their grandmother as though seeing her for the first time. Then the eldest crawled onto the armrest of her chair, curling against her side.

“Te quiero, Nonna,” she murmured.

She smiled, brushing a strand of hair from Sofia’s face. “I love you too, mi cielo.”

As the sun began to set outside, casting the room in a golden glow, the box of letters sat on the table, unopened but not forgotten. A quiet reminder of a life lived boldly, with a heart that never stopped listening.

the end.