#luxury villa Amalfi Coast

[villacostadeglidei]

Last-Minute Villa Deals Amalfi Coast

Introduction:

Nestled along the sun-kissed shores of southern Italy lies a slice of paradise known as the Amalfi Coast. With its dramatic cliffs, vibrant villages, and azure waters, this enchanting destination beckons travelers from around the globe. And now, with our exclusive Last-Minute Villa Deals Amalfi Coast, you can experience the allure of the Amalfi Coast like never before. Join us as we delve into the beauty and charm of this UNESCO World Heritage Site, and uncover the ultimate in luxury accommodations waiting just for you.

The Enchantment of the Amalfi Coast:

Picture-perfect panoramas greet visitors at every turn along the Amalfi Coast. From the pastel-hued buildings of Positano cascading down the cliffside to the historic charm of Amalfi’s winding streets, each village exudes its own unique character and allure. Explore the hidden gems of Ravello, where verdant gardens and Last-Minute Villa Deals Amalfi Coast offer a glimpse into the region’s rich history. Or wander through the lemon-scented lanes of Sorrento, where traditional craftsmanship and Mediterranean beauty collide. No matter where your adventures take you, the magic of the Amalfi Coast is sure to leave an indelible mark on your heart.

Luxurious Villa Retreats:

Experience the epitome of Last-Minute Villa Deals Amalfi Coast with our handpicked selection of villas dotting the coastline. Perched high atop rugged cliffs or nestled amidst fragrant lemon groves, each villa offers a private sanctuary where you can unwind and rejuvenate in style. Last-Minute Villa Deals Amalfi Coast from sleek modern estates to charming traditional residences, our collection caters to every taste and preference. Step inside to discover spacious living areas, sumptuous bedrooms, and state-of-the-art amenities designed to elevate your stay to new heights. And with private pools, panoramic terraces, and sweeping views of the sea, you’ll find yourself immersed in the beauty of the Amalfi Coast at every turn.

Indulgent Culinary Experiences:

Savor the flavors of southern Italy with our curated culinary experiences designed to tantalize your taste buds. Embark on a gastronomic journey through the Amalfi Coast, where fresh seafood, sun-ripened produce, and artisanal delicacies await. Dine alfresco on your villa’s terrace as the sun sets over the horizon, or venture out to sample the region’s renowned restaurants and trattorias. From fragrant seafood pasta to zesty lemon desserts, each dish is a celebration of the vibrant flavors and rich culinary heritage of the Last-Minute Villa Deals Amalfi Coast. And with our concierge service on hand to arrange private chefs and bespoke dining experiences, every meal promises to be an unforgettable affair.

Unforgettable Adventures Await:

From leisurely strolls along scenic coastal paths to adrenaline-fueled excursions on the open sea, the Last-Minute Villa Deals Amalfi Coast offers a wealth of adventures waiting to be discovered. Explore ancient ruins and historic landmarks, hike through fragrant lemon groves and verdant vineyards, or simply relax on pristine beaches lapped by crystal-clear waters. With our expert guides leading the way, you’ll uncover the hidden treasures and secret spots that make the Amalfi Coast truly special. And for those seeking the ultimate in luxury, why not charter a private yacht and sail the azure waters in style? Whether you’re a thrill-seeker or a sun worshipper, the Amalfi Coast has something for everyone.

Conclusion:

With its stunning scenery, rich history, and unparalleled luxury, the Amalfi Coast is a destination like no other. And with our exclusive Last-Minute Villa Deals Amalfi Coast, there’s never been a better time to experience its magic for yourself. Whether you’re seeking a romantic getaway, a family vacation, or a solo adventure, our Last-Minute Villa Deals Amalfi Coast offer the perfect retreat from which to explore this captivating corner of Italy. So why wait? Book Luxury Villa Amalfi Coast escape today and embark on a journey of discovery you’ll never forget. Paradise awaits!

[luxuryvillainamalficoast]

Luxury villa rentals on Amalfi Coast are one of the most iconic areas in Italy. Marelda is a wonderful two-floor beach-front villa, located less than half a mile from the town of Maiori. An ideal place to share with the people you love, taking the risk of never wanting to leave.

Website: https://hauteretreats.com/luxury-rentals/marelda/

[cobrakaisb]

ciao bella

summary: you and theo spend a summer in italy, and some insecurities are revealed

word count: 849

author's note: the ending is lowkey shit, but i really liked the concept.

“theo,” you called, waiting for your boyfriend’s hum of acknowledgment before continuing. “can you rub some sunscreen on my back? i don’t want to burn.” he grumbled a response in that low tone of his, but you heard the sound of the lotion bottle, letting you know that he was fulfilling your request. 

you sighed in relief as theo rubbed the cool lotion on your back, arching ever so slightly as the feeling contrasted your sun kissed skin. he placed a gentle kiss on your shoulder, “relax love.” you sighed again, sinking further into the lounge chair set up on the balcony overlooking lake como. the stunning view, large villa, and established atmosphere reminded you just how rich your boyfriend was. 

when he approached you after the holiday break during fifth year with a letter and plane ticket to italy, you were shocked. it was a little unexpected, considering that your relationship was relatively new, so you found yourself hesitant to agree. it took pansy, millie, and daphne’s words of encouragement to convince you that this trip was a good idea. spending a month in italy didn’t scare you, in fact it was a bonus to get away from your own familial issues, and of course, some alone time with your boyfriend couldn’t hurt. it was the itinerary, rather, that made you question your sanity and willingness to go.

you were flying in from london to milan, via muggle transportation, where you were spending three days in a luxury hotel. from there you were going to his family’s villa at lake como, where you’d reside for two weeks, soaking up the sun and rich atmosphere. at the beginning of the third week, the two of you were taking a private car to spend the day in florence before heading to rome for another three days. the remainder of the trip would be spent between the amalfi coast and sorrento. 

the whole thing was a lot, and everything surrounding the trip exuded wealth. between the luxury hotels, first class tickets, private tours, designer outfits, and theo’s eagerness to take you on various shopping sprees, you felt like you were in over your head. granted, your family was well off, but not nearly as financially stable as theodore’s. maybe that’s why it was hard for you to truly relax; the worry about paying theo back was eating you away, slowly but surely. 

“you’re not relaxing,” he mumbled, drawing you from your racing thoughts to the serene environment. you huffed at his words. “i’m trying too,” you replied. theo could hear the worry in your voice; he could feel it emitting off you like the faint blue glow of a patronus. he set the bottle of lotion down, climbing off your back to sit in his own lounger. he turned to face you. “what are you so worried about, darling? tell me and i’ll fix it,” he begged. you knew his blue eyes were wide and pleading behind the dark frames of his sunglasses. 

“i don’t know how you’ll be able to fix it. it think i just need to figure it out on my own,” you explained softly, not wanting to hurt his feelings, or make him feel like you were withholding information from him. (even though you technically were.) by the end of your sentence, theo had moved from his chair back to yours, taking a hold of your hand. 

his olive skin was warm and a shade darker than usual, probably from all the sun you’d been getting these past couple of weeks. his thumb rubbed gently across the back of your hand, a habit that he developed as a way to soothe your nerves and anxiety. you sighed, a deep one at that, before opening your mouth to confess. before you could truly process what you were saying, filtering the things that you didn’t necessarily want him to know, you had told theo everything; how you felt like you’d never be able to pay him back, and how you wondered if splurging on you was really worth it.  

once you finished, you took another breath to calm yourself down. you risked a hesitant glance at theodore, who’s grip on your hand had tightened over the course of your rambling. it was silent between the two of you, and you were afraid to break it. finally, theo licked his lips before looking towards you. “fuck darling, don’t ever worry about that. you being here is all the payback i need,” he explained softly, his free hand tracing the bridge of your nose. 

“theo,” you trailed off, but he silenced you with a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “you’re wearing my ring, yeah?” he asked, gesturing to the silver ring that hung on a chain around your neck. “always,” you answered. “exactly. what’s mine is yours, and it forever will be,” he replied, kissing the back of your hand as you felt your cheeks heat up. 

“now sit back and relax.” maybe spending a month with theo, the boy you loved, in italy wasn’t such a bad idea.

[adore-laur]

PINK VELVET

— an italian getaway full of sunshine & surprises 💗

——

SALERNO, ITALY

Crystalline blue waters sparkling under the sunshine, ornate architecture standing high among the cliffsides, and mopeds burning rubber on the cobblestone streets—it's all pure, unadulterated bliss. 

Sharing that bliss with your boyfriend enhances the experience. Both of you have been staying at a villa rental for a few days already, and the surrounding greenery and stucco buildings on the precipice rocks of the Tyrrhenian Sea bring a much-needed sense of privacy. It's a getaway for your third anniversary with Harry, and while it's a more extended vacation than usual—two weeks to be exact—the mellow atmosphere makes you feel like you could stay in Italy forever.

Harry said he plans on wooing you with the foreign language, having bought a book filled with romantic phrases at the airport's souvenir shop. You're dreading it because once he starts, he won't stop. 

It's four in the afternoon, and you're getting ready to kayak off the Amalfi Coast. The heat will be sweltering, especially out on the open water, so you put on jean shorts over your swim bottoms, leaving just your bikini top on. Harry is standing in the doorway of the master bathroom and tying the strings of his swim trunks. He's wearing a white tank top that you know will be taken off eventually. 

A cooler packed with snacks and drinks is by the front door. Once you reach downtown, the journey to the kayak launch takes about fifteen minutes, so you and Harry will drive in the vintage Cadillac he insisted on renting and park on the street before walking the rest of the way. 

"Ready?" Harry asks, giving your ass two pats as he walks by. 

"I guess," you say flatly. 

He smirks and steals a scrunchie from your makeup bag to put around his wrist. "That's enough out of you." 

You hoist the cooler over your shoulder, sling a beach towel over the other, and then stroll through the spacious villa rooms toward the door. When you open it, a blast of humid air immediately hits you. Harry brushes past you while jingling the car keys, a drawstring backpack on his back. You lock the door before heading toward the luxurious car you don't want to know the cost of. 

Harry swings the passenger door open for you like a gentleman, but you decide to mess with him by ignoring his gesture. You open the driver's side door and smoothly crawl over the console until you're in the passenger seat. Harry slowly shakes his head, reaching forward to pluck your bikini strap with his fingers and lightly snap it against your skin. He throws his backpack under the seat before sliding behind the steering wheel.

The engine roars to life. Harry's hand places itself on your headrest, his body twisting around so he can carefully reverse down the circular driveway. You take his hand and set your interlocked fingers in your lap. He glances at you and smiles, his hair blowing beautifully in the wind and the sun casting a golden hue over his face.

When you arrive downtown, Harry parks along a random street. He removes his hand from yours and claps once. "Okay, here's the game plan. I reckon we should rent one kayak for both of us. It'll be cheaper and more fun, and we can work together like—"

"Absolutely not." 

"Pardon?" 

"I'm sorry, but being stuck in a kayak with you sounds like my personal hell. You'll somehow manage to tip us over or get us lost." Harry can live in a world of his own sometimes. You really want to avoid ending up stranded in the deep, expansive ocean.

"Baby," he says, looking at you with wounded eyes. "What if I drift away and we lose each other? I need you. I'll do all the work while you sit back and relax." 

You can't possibly say no to him when he looks like a literal Greek god basking in the Italian sun, his lips irresistibly pink against his tanned skin. 

"Fine," you surrender. "I'm not letting you do all the work, though, because we'll probably end up in a different country. Also, I'm sitting in the front seat. Deal?" 

"Sì, amore mio," he says, passion dripping off his tongue. "And, um... I may have already paid for just one kayak when I booked the reservation yesterday. Well, singular ticket." 

"You're unbelievable." Stepping out of the car, you stretch your limbs while Harry puts his backpack on and grabs the cooler. You hold onto his free hand and begin walking to the beach. Many people are out and about—vendors selling gourmet cuisine, kids riding bicycles through the alleyways, and tourists stopping at attractions.

At the waterfront, kayaks are stacked on racks, shimmering under the sun. Since Harry booked a reservation ahead of time, he walks toward the man who appears to be running the operation. You watch them shake hands and converse. Harry knows enough basic Italian to navigate through any language barrier yet to come. 

Eventually, they both wander over to you, and the man caresses your hand and kisses your cheek. You smile and shyly mutter an Italian greeting. The man then excitedly leads you to the kayaks, taking a maroon two-seater from the bottom rack and dragging it toward the water. While following him, you notice only a few people are on the beach today. Only a couple of other occupied kayaks drift in the ocean, looking like mere silhouettes from where you stand. 

"You know the rules, yes?" asks the man as he pushes the front of the kayak into the shallow water. 

"Yes, I've done this before. I'll teach this guy," you say, pointing at Harry while draping your towel over the seat. 

Harry smiles mindlessly, placing the cooler and backpack between the two seats. The man briefly leaves to grab life jackets and oars, leaving you and Harry to get into the kayak. You let him go first since he's sitting in the back. As you grip the side so it doesn't rock, he removes his tank top and hands it to you before steadily climbing in and bending his long legs to fit in the restrictive space. 

You're next. Harry plants his foot in the sand to keep the kayak balanced and then offers his hand to grasp. Once you're situated, you sigh relievedly.

"This sucks," Harry mutters, nudging his knee against your back. "I can't even see your face." 

"You could've solved that problem if you got us two kayaks."

"Yeah, but I wanted to be close to you," he says, sliding his shoes off. "Just look behind you every once in a while so I can get my fix." 

You laugh, looking at the water that endlessly expands past the horizon. The man comes back with two life jackets, and you clip one to your body as sturdy oars are placed across your and Harry's laps. The man gives a thumbs up and slowly maneuvers the kayak away from the shoreline.

"Grazie!" Harry shouts, waving to him as the both of you drift further from land. 

"Ciao! Stai al sicuro!" he shouts back. 

The destination of the cliffs is a short one; their imminent height is visible far out to the left of the coastal village. You begin paddling, alternating sides to stay on a straight path, while Harry opens the cooler to take out a package of crackers and a bottle of water.

"Please tell me you know how to properly paddle," you say, taking a break to sip some water while the kayak naturally rides the ripples.

"Obviously. I'm kind of the backbone of this kayak, so I know what I'm doing," Harry replies with faux confidence, still not picking up the paddle. 

"That's funny, considering I'm literally doing all the work right now. Get to paddling, or I won't turn around so you can get your fix." 

"Calmati, bellissima," he murmurs, snatching a handful of crackers before finally helping.

A comfortable silence ensues, with only the sound of water splashing and the slight creak of the kayak that comes with each movement. Harry whistles a tune every so often. A content smile pulls at your lips.

However, it doesn't last long because if there's one thing Harry loves to do, it's acting like a child sometimes. He disrupts the long stretch of peace by pretending to tip over the kayak by rocking slightly back and forth in his seat, gasping like he's not doing it. 

"Harry, I swear," you say with a nervous undertone, holding on to the edge of the kayak so you don't actually tip over into the vast ocean, infested with who knows what. "You're like a five-year-old!" 

He listens immediately, apparently noticing your anxiousness. He settles back in his seat, stretching his legs next to your body and nudging his foot against your thigh as a silent apology.

"It wasn't me. I think there's an animal under us," he says, playing with your hair to distract you. It doesn't help, because you know that there are probably massive creatures swimming below you. He knows one of your biggest fears is drowning, so he should feel like a jerk now after his little charade.

"Are you going to sit there and braid my hair, or can you help me get to our destination before it gets dark?" 

"Sorry," he murmurs, grabbing his paddle and helping you turn left toward the rock formations. They aren't too far away now.

"We're almost there," you encourage softly, dialing back your slight attitude. Harry is quiet, so you turn around to see him pouting softly. "Why are you sulking?"

"Am I being annoying? You sound annoyed with me," he says, avoiding eye contact and setting his paddle down.

"No, honey. I just want to get there as quickly as we can and swim for a bit. We have wine tasting after this, so we can't dilly-dally." 

"Dilly-dally," he repeats, laughing at your chosen phrase. "Okay, I'll behave. Kiss?" 

You capture his lips with yours, tasting the tomato and basil crackers he's been munching on. He kisses you back and reaches out his hand to push some hair behind your ear. Pulling away, you see the cliffs only about two hundred feet away. You both begin paddling again in serene silence. 

At the side of the cliff, you stop the kayak by a large, flat rock that peeks out of the water and appears safe to stand on. You hold onto it; the waves are more active in this area, and you tie some rope around the post provided. You assume it's there for other kayakers and cliff divers to take advantage of. 

Once you climb onto the rock, you offer your hand to assist Harry and pull him up. "We made it!" you exclaim, lifting your arms. Harry high-fives both of your hands and bends down to kiss you. 

You unclip your life jacket, then do the same for Harry. Free from obstruction, your arms naturally loop around his waist for a hug. He embraces you, his large hand cradling the back of your head. You stay like that for a while, watching waves crash against the rocks as the sun starts painting the sky with blue and orange streaks. 

"Wanna do something stupid?" you say into his chest before lifting your chin to look at him mischievously. He has more freckles due to the hours spent sunbathing. 

Harry peers at you with furrowed brows. "What?"

"Let's jump off that rock," you say, pointing your finger behind him. 

He turns you both around, still trapping you in his arms. A tall, cliff-like rock surrounded by several smaller rocks makes it easy to reach the top. You don't wait for Harry's answer and pull your shorts down, revealing your cherry-red bikini bottoms. Venturing your way up, you glance back at Harry. He grins and immediately follows suit, walking behind you with outreached arms in case you slip. 

At the top, you both stare at each other with knowing smiles. This is exactly where you're supposed to be. 

Out of nowhere, Harry experiences a burst of spontaneity and quickly lunges forward, cannonballing off the cliff and into the water. He emerges after a few seconds, shaking his hair and letting out a loud holler, probably caused by adrenaline or the cold water. 

You shuffle toward the edge and get ready to jump. Harry's gaze never wavers as you daintily leap off, plugging your nose and closing your eyes on the long way down. When you hit the water, a powerful sensation rushes through your body. You glide to the surface and find Harry swimming toward you, his drenched hair plastered to his skin.

The water is at an uncomfortable temperature, so you move briskly to climb back up on the rock the kayak is tied to. Shortly after, Harry lifts himself up, droplets dripping from his body. You dry off with the towel, then hand it to him. Once he finishes, you take your phone out of the backpack and tell him to pose. He presents both middle fingers, sticking his tongue out with a smile. The breathtaking evening view in the background makes the picture ten times more perfect. 

"Let's head back," you say after soaking in the skyline. "The wine tasting is at six, and it's a little after five right now." 

Harry nods, and you both put your life jackets back on before situating yourselves in the kayak. You untie the knotted rope, push off the rock, and then head toward the coastline. He helps paddle the whole way there, kissing the back of your neck every so often. 

Bliss, bliss, bliss. 

—— 

After returning the kayak and packing all the stuff in the car's trunk, Harry says he's going to find a nearby bathroom so he can change into his outfit for the wine tasting. He hands you one of his sweaters out of the bag—a gray crewneck. It's your favorite and still smells like him, no matter how often you've worn it. 

You have no idea what outfit he brought; he manages to take it out and quickly runs into a shop while you're distracted by the lively village. Waiting with anticipation in the car, you cozy up, growing tired from the strenuous paddling and calming atmosphere around you. 

Five minutes pass before Harry appears, and you immediately laugh at the sight of him. Not because he looks silly, but because his outfit is too fancy for less than an hour of wine tasting in some restaurant's cellar. 

"Harry," you say breathily, taking in his outfit. "I'm wearing a sweater, and you're wearing a suit. Where did you even get that?" 

It's a bubblegum pink suit left open over a plain white button-up. White dress shoes are on his feet, and he must've fixed his hair in the bathroom mirror. 

"Eh?" He spins around. "You like it?" 

"You look very handsome, but now I feel severely underdressed. Why didn't you tell me to pack a dress?" You obviously don't have the time to go back to the villa and change, but you're curious as to why Harry didn't say anything about the apparent dress code for tonight. 

"I wanted to surprise you, darling. Plus, I know you would be worried about spilling wine on something nice. It's a private tasting, so no one will see you but me and the chef I mentioned."

Harry had booked a wine tasting with a man he'd met when he last visited Italy, the friendly owner of a family-owned restaurant in the village. He has always been able to leave unforgettable impressions on everyone he meets, so the man gladly moved some things around so that he could have you two come to the cellar for an intimate experience. 

You sigh, realizing there's no point in arguing. They won't care, so why should you? You have no doubt that Harry will make you feel comfortable once you get there. 

"You're right. Hopefully, he doesn't care that I look like I just crawled out of a lake." 

"Basta. Sembri un sogno," Harry says, grabbing your hand and tugging you out of the car. 

You assume he said something incredibly charming. Your face naturally warms as you distract yourself by picking nonexistent lint off your sleeve before walking the bustling street toward a restaurant called Dahlia. The man Harry knows is waiting by the arched front door with a jovial smile.

"Ciao, Signore Styles!" he greets enthusiastically. "Ah, la tua ragazza. Benvenuto!"

Harry shakes his hand. "Che bello rivederti. Questa è la mia ragazza, sì. Cominciamo, va bene?" 

"Yes, yes. Seguitemi, cari." 

The two of you follow him through the small, packed restaurant and descend a narrow flight of stairs that leads to a wine cellar. Harry is behind you, his hands on your shoulders to ensure you don't take a tumble. His dress shoes click against the polished wood with each step. 

At the bottom, you turn down a dim hallway. Endless wine bottles are meticulously stacked on shelves against the walls. There's a table and chairs, and two wine glasses and napkins are already set neatly on the surface. There's even a plate of bread. 

You sit, and Harry does the same. He immediately begins shaking the napkin out and placing it in his lap, like he's done this a million times before. You cross your legs and angle your body toward him, admiring his features in the low, yellowish lighting from the antique wall sconces. He grins handsomely.

The man brings over two bottles of expensive-looking wine, and you think of your preconceived notion of what wine tasting would be like—rolling hills and vineyards in the countryside, getting wine drunk with middle-aged moms wearing patterned blouses, gossiping about their cheating husbands. 

Where you are right now is undeniably better. Who wouldn't want to be in a cramped room with their boyfriend, who's wearing a pink suit and looking at you like you're the only thing that exists?

The man fills the wine glasses with an adequate amount of blood-red liquid, then stands back to observe your reactions. Harry spins it around in his glass and sniffs it, acting like he's all fancy. You want to laugh at him, but keep it inside so you don't seem disrespectful. Instead, you bring your glass up to your mouth and take a small sip, tasting wild berries and a hint of an unknown aromatic herb. Harry sips his next, eyes locked on yours the entire time. He smacks his lips after swallowing and exhales, obviously pleased. You roll your eyes at him secretively. He's acting like he owns the place, and it's shameful that you find it attractive. 

You rip off a piece of bread from the loaf in front of you and eat it, the buttery dough instantly melting on your tongue. Harry smiles at you, resting his hand on your chair as you rip some more off and offer it to him. He puts it in his mouth and mouths a silent swear, then picks up the entire loaf of bread and inspects it like he's Gordon Ramsey. 

"I need the recipe for that," you whisper humorously. 

Harry, of course, takes it literally. He beckons the man to come closer and places a friendly hand on his shoulder. "La mia ragazza adora cucinare il pane. Potrei avere questa ricetta per favore? Questo è sorprendente." 

"Ovviamente! Tornerò," says the man while hurriedly going upstairs. 

You turn to Harry with confusion, needing help understanding the exchange. 

"He's getting the recipe for it," he explains. "You can make it before we go home."

"Harry," you say with a sigh. "Stop being so nice. I could've just found an online recipe. What if it's a family recipe that's super important to him?" 

"Stop worrying, my love. He doesn't mind."

Before you can respond, the man returns with a tattered recipe book. He opens it to a bookmarked page and sets it in front of you. "Fai una photo, caro. Fammi sapere com'è quando lo fai," he says, pointing at the bread drawing—not a picture—on the weathered page. Was this recipe from medieval times? Goodness gracious.

You can't understand him, so Harry takes your phone out of your pocket and snaps a picture of the handwritten words on the paper. You can't believe this man you just met is so willing to give you a recipe from his own restaurant. 

"Grazie," you say shyly. Harry smiles at your sudden bashfulness, scooting closer to you and kissing your head.

The wine tasting continues for the next hour. Throughout the various sips of eclectic flavors, Harry amps up his lovable antics—slowly and dramatically reeling off flavors he gets from the wine and spinning the liquid in the glass so quickly that it spills onto the napkin in his lap. 

Anything to see you smile. 

After what feels like gallons of wine, you and Harry thank the man for his graciousness and ask if he could drive the car back to the villa since driving back yourselves while tipsy would be idiotic. Harry offers to pay a hefty amount for the favor, and the man happily obliges, saying he will drive it back when he finishes closing the restaurant. Harry hands him the keys before you leave, shaking hands and kissing cheeks with the other chefs on the way out. 

You're both wine-drunk—arguably the best kind of drunk—and stumbling on clumsy feet with cheeks that won't stop smiling. It's dark out now, and the streetlights guide you to the Corvette. Harry calls for a taxi, speaking in full Italian, which makes you weak in the knees. 

Harry removes his suit jacket after hanging up the phone, leaving the white button-up in all its glory, his tattoos and chest hair peeking out from the few buttons undone. You take your belongings out of the trunk, set them on the ground, and then stand beside Harry. You kiss his chest, nuzzling your cheek against it and closing your eyes. He rubs his hand along your back and begins swaying with you under the streetlight. 

You look up at him with glassy eyes and flushed cheeks, admiring his matching appearance. "How do you say 'pretty' in Italian?" you ask, getting lost in his gaze. 

Harry pouts, thinking. "Patatina," he replies after a few seconds. 

"You're patatina," you say lovingly.

He snorts at your cluelessness, smearing a kiss on your forehead. 

"What?" you ask, looking at him with confusion. "Is that not what it means? That's not nice, Harry. What did you just make me say?" You gasp. "Is it something dirty?" 

He's still giggling, with crinkled eyes and deep dimples carving his face. You poke his ribs to get him to answer. "Sorry," he says, breathing out a final laugh. "No, it's not dirty. Patatina is a term of endearment I read about in the book I bought. It means little potato." 

You stare at him with a deadpan expression, thoughts about why you decided to date this boy running through your head. "Little potato... it's actually kind of cute," you admit, shuffling closer to Harry's warm body. "If you're a patatina, what am I?" 

"Cipollino," he murmurs, cradling your face. It translates to 'little onion.' The book said it pairs well with patatina, and we're, like, a pair." 

Your nose scrunches. "But an onion, out of everything? That's probably the least romantic vegetable. I want to be rhubarb or something, you know? They taste sweet, and I think... I think I'm pretty sweet. Right, Harry?" The wine is making its way to your dizzy head.

"Correct," he says. "And I'm patatina, not Harry." 

"Shut up." 

"Kiss me, then. Shut me right up." 

You don't question him, lurching forward to give him a searing kiss, fingers hooking in his belt loops. He returns the kiss with the same, if not more, passion. You can taste the residue of wine on his cherry-colored lips, opening his mouth with your tongue to suck on his. 

You suddenly hear tires rolling up and turn to see headlights shining on your figures. Great timing, taxi. You part from Harry's swollen lips, short of breath, and hastily pick up your stuff. You hope no one witnessed anything too wild.

Harry hands the driver a wad of cash before he climbs in the backseat. You follow suit. The vehicle drives off into the night, and your head rests on your lover's shoulder the whole way back.

—— 

The villa looms exquisitely under the starlit sky. You're relatively sure you fell asleep five minutes into the drive. Harry helps your sleepy body out of the car after grabbing all your belongings, then walks you up the driveway. He sets you on the outdoor sofa surrounding the fire pit before disappearing through the sliding door. The whispering breeze makes you shiver and burrow deeper into his sweater, which still clings to your figure.

Harry returns with two wine glasses and a bottle of... cranberry juice?

"If I have any more wine, I'll puke. So, cranberry juice?" he says, his voice rising to a higher octave. 

"Sitting by the fire and drinking cranberry juice out of a wine glass with you," you say dreamily while scooting over to make room for him. "I can't think of anything better."

You soak up his company. When he went inside, he changed into grey sweatpants and a matching hoodie, and he looked like such a boyfriend. It's ridiculous. He's always so inviting and lovely. You find yourself wanting to touch him and absorb the warmth he exudes.

Sleep overtakes you again while you're tucked into his side. The next thing you wake up to are silk sheets on the king-size bed. You instinctively curl up to Harry's body beside you. He must have opened the vast bay window that provides an impossible sea view because a beautiful breeze flows over your skin. It has you sinking further into the mattress. 

"Want me to get your pajamas?" Harry asks quietly.

You sleepily shake your head, perfectly fine with sleeping in his sweater. However, you do slide off your shorts and bikini bottoms. 

You're dozing again when Harry clears his throat. You open your eyes, feeling his heart rate speed up under your cheek. 

"I have something special planned for our anniversary tomorrow. It's in the evening, so we have time to do other things. Just letting you know." 

"That makes me nervous, but I trust you."

"Tomorrow will be even better than today. I promise." 

"Can't wait." You yawn. "Goodnight. Love you."

"I love you more than anything," he says, lightly scratching your back. 

You grumble an incoherent response, drifting off to your dreams, which always pale compared to life with the man next to you. 

—— 

The following morning's ambiance consists of Harry's snoring and glorious sunshine pouring through the wind-blown curtains. You must've slept like a rock because the bedside clock reads nine-thirty. You decide to abandon the soft sheets and let Harry get more sleep. 

You wrap yourself in your satin robe and pad down the hallway toward the kitchen. One glance at the oven, and you remember the bread recipe from last night. It'd be a pleasant anniversary surprise for Harry, considering his surprise for you is shrouded in mystery. Plus, making bread is oddly therapeutic—the kneading, the delicious smell, the endless possibility of flavors. Luckily, all the simple ingredients are in the pantry, so you can start making the dough. 

By the time it's in the oven, Harry is still dead to the world, and the time is nearing eleven. Some days, he'll wake up at the crack of dawn to go on a stupid run, or he'll sleep until noon on the weekends after a long week of work. There's really no in-between. 

While the bread bakes, you clean up the mess on the counters before sitting at the kitchen table to aimlessly scroll through your phone. Another twenty minutes pass before you hear feet shuffling against the hardwood floor. You glance up to find a puffy-eyed Harry rubbing his face. He's wearing black swim trunks, and that's about it, except for the sunglasses on top of his head. 

He bends down and kisses your cheek. "Buongiorno, mio piccolo cuoco," he says, his voice as raspy as the slight mustache above his lip that seems to have grown overnight.

"More like good afternoon." You shut your phone off and set it aside. "Did you sleep well?" 

"Mm, the best I have in ages," he answers, scratching his stomach. He then smiles lazily, his eyes looking more awake. "Happy anniversary." 

"Three whole years. I don't know how I've gone putting up with you this long." 

"Hey. I can go back to bed if you want," he says, pointing his thumb toward the bedroom. 

"No, stay," you plead softly. "By the way, I'm making that bread recipe. It's my present to you for being an average boyfriend." 

"Being sassy this morning, are we?" 

"You love it." 

"Got that right," Harry mutters, nosily peering into the oven. He sniffs the bread dramatically and whistles impressively before shutting the oven door. The mouthwatering aroma reminds you of wandering the Italian streets yesterday.

"Going for a swim?"

"Yeah. Join me?"

"I will once the bread is done." You stand and send him on his way with a peck on his lips. "Go ahead. I'll make you a fruit platter."

"Dragonfruit, please?" he requests, opening the sliding door that leads to the infinity pool. 

"Got it. Don't forget to put sunscreen on!" 

He gives you a thumbs up, leaving the door open to welcome the pleasant breeze. You grab hot pads and take the finished bread out, setting it on the cooling rack before turning the oven off. While it cools, you change into a swimsuit, tie a chiffon wrap skirt around your hips, and then arrange a platter. 

You gather the cubed fruit you've both been eating the past couple of days—cantaloupe, watermelon, strawberries, and, per Harry's request, dragonfruit. He wanted to buy some after his wonderful mother grew it in her garden. Then, you precisely arrange the fruit in a circle on a floating breakfast tray that can go in the pool, keeping the middle open for slices of buttered bread. You sincerely hope it tastes close enough to what you ate yesterday. 

Lastly, you fill glasses with orange juice before carefully heading outside to keep Harry company. You see him floating on his back, arms open, and eyes closed. You set the platter down on a table and tiptoe to the edge of the pool.

To hell with it. You're going to scare him to get him back after trying to tip the kayak yesterday. It's only fair, right? 

He's oblivious to everything around him, a peaceful glow on his face. You almost feel bad for deciding to disturb it—especially on your anniversary—but what good is a relationship without a bit of havoc? 

You mull over what you could possibly do to frighten him. Maybe throw a cantaloupe piece at him or pretend the car came back destroyed. These are two vastly different ends of the mischief spectrum, and ultimately, the latter is the obvious choice—and the most fun.

"Harry?" you say quietly, changing your expression to make it seem like you're distraught. 

"Yeah?" he replies, keeping his eyes closed. 

"Um, your friend from yesterday just dropped the car off. Harry, it's—"

His eyes snap open, picking up on your wavering and anxious tone. He stops floating and swims over to where you're standing by the edge. 

"What's wrong? Talk to me. Did something happen? Are you okay?" he asks worriedly, his eyes darting between your face and body to check for any signs. 

"The car," you whisper, mustering up fake tears. Harry instinctively holds your ankle, his thumb rubbing soothing circles. "It's destroyed. It looks like it got into an accident. What are we going to do?" 

"Seriously? What the hell? How... I don't..." He heaves himself out of the pool and begins walking around the villa toward the driveway. He looks like he's about to punch something, so you suppress your laughter and decide to end the game. 

You grab his wrist, spinning him around. He stares at you with panic, and now you feel bad. "I'm kidding, baby. I'm just messing with you. The car is fine. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you repeat, clasping his cheeks and laughing.

His jaw drops. "You're so mean." 

"I'm just getting you back for yesterday. Them's the rules."

"Yeah, but you've been quite sassy all morning, hmm? First, you called me an average boyfriend. Then you didn't even kiss me good morning. That hurts my heart." 

"You were completely passed out. How would you have known if I kissed you good morning or not?"

"I can always tell. They bring me back to life." 

"Shut up," you scoff, grabbing the platter. "Here's some fruit and homemade bread as a peace offering. Take it or leave it." 

"Feed me in the pool, and I'll consider your offer." 

"Fine. I'm not getting in, though. I want to sunbathe for a bit. 

Harry dramatically rolls his eyes and dives back in. When he emerges, he swims to the edge. You sit down with the platter and let it float next to him before putting your feet in the tepid water. You pick up a slice of bread and hold it to Harry's awaiting mouth. He places your legs over his shoulders, his arms hooking around your upper thighs. 

Someone's needy today. 

He tosses the bread into his mouth, his eyes rolling back like they did in the wine cellar yesterday. He borderline moans at the taste, his jaw flexing with each chew. After he swallows, he leaves grateful kisses on your thighs. "Deliziosa," he murmurs, paired with more nipping and kissing. You know he's not talking about the bread. The 'a' he added to the end of the word makes it feminine. He's not slick.

Before you both get carried away—wanting to save your pent-up tension for later—you feed him a plethora of fruit before deciding to make both of you an actual meal. You're starving, so you'll catch some sun later. 

Harry whines at the loss of contact. You use your foot to push his chest until he's floating on his back again. He throws you a peace sign before you head back inside. 

As you whip up a quick breakfast, you watch your boyfriend from the door, appreciating his sunkissed body and tattoos. You smile and think about how time has flown by with him in the most remarkable way.

Three years, and hopefully a lifetime more.

—— 

You're nervous. 

You don't have the faintest idea what Harry's surprise is. All he's said is to dress nicely and not eat anything yet. Maybe he's taking you out to dinner? Or perhaps you'll walk downtown together and stop at vendors. You're stumped. He's annoyingly good at keeping secrets. 

It's nearing seven as you add the finishing touches to your makeup. Harry is in the bathroom spraying cologne on his neck, looking casually handsome in a flowing, off-white button-up. He's paired it with matching cotton shorts and sneakers that need washing. You keep telling him to clean them, but he ignores your pleading and claims the dirt gives them character. 

A short cherry-colored dress with puffed sleeves adorns your body. Red lipstick to match. Hair loose. The necklace Harry bought you for your last anniversary is glimmering against your neck. 

Harry comes behind you in the vanity mirror as you apply a final coat of mascara and starts soothingly scratching your upper back. He can probably sense you're feeling nervous, knowing you don't particularly like surprises. However, you think he looks undeniably handsome, with his new tan and stubble pulling you into his coziness. Somehow, just looking at him eases your nerves.

"Gorgeous," he whispers.

You smooth any remaining wrinkles out of your dress. "Thank you. I'm almost done." 

"Take your time," he replies, squeezing your shoulders. "I'll start the car." 

You make sure your makeup is smudge-free and then shut the bedroom light off on your way to the front door. Harry is waiting by the passenger side of the Corvette with a distracted look on his face. When he finally sees you coming, he opens the door for you. This time, you accept his gentlemanlike gesture. 

He drives to an unknown destination, taking the backroads. You can't even guess where you're headed since everything outside the villa is unfamiliar.

Ten minutes later, Harry slows down and turns right toward what appears to be a small seaside forest. He drives along the path leading through the trees until a hidden beach area eventually reveals itself. He parks the car while you're speechless at the sight before you. The only things on the sand are a round table with two chairs surrounded by tiki torches. 

No one else is here. If Harry tells you he rented the entire beach, you'll kill him. 

"I rented this portion of the beach for the night."

Of course.

"You're ridiculous," you say, taking in your surroundings. "Thank you, Harry. This is a wonderful surprise." 

He ducks his head bashfully. "C'mon, let's eat." 

You follow him to the table and sit on the wicker chair across from him. In front of you is a plate of stuffed ravioli with a side of roasted asparagus, cooked just how you like them. Harry has vegan fettuccine Alfredo with peas—a lot of peas. A gagworthy amount.

"I'm floored right now," you say, overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness. "I can't believe you did all this without me knowing." 

"I'm a sneaky guy. There were lots of secret phone calls while you were in the shower or swimming in the pool. 

You take your sandals off and enjoy the cool sand between your toes. "Yeah, I bet. I'm not even going to ask how much it costs to rent this part of the beach." 

"It's not important," he says. "Let's eat, shall we? And talk me through this little outfit you have on. Why on earth haven't I seen you wear it yet?" 

Then, both of you eat, talk, and watch the waves glide on the shore. The sun is dipping past the horizon, turning the sky a violet shade with splashes of fading orange. You talk Harry's ear off about random stuff in your life and humorous anecdotes since the trip started. His body naturally leans toward you to give you his undivided attention. He listens the entire time, eyes on you with his chin in the palm of his hand, except for when he pops some spearmint gum into his mouth after finishing his truckload of peas. 

After you finish rambling, you wait for him to start talking your ear off. He can usually drone on and on about anything for hours, but right now, he's just sitting and staring at the sunset. 

"You're quiet," you point out, gently poking his arm with your fork. 

"Just thinking." 

"About what?" 

He sighs longingly before saying, "I know we still have more than enough time here, but I kind of don't want to leave. I love it here so much. This is the happiest I've ever been." 

Your heart melts. "I feel the same way. I could stay here forever and never get bored of it. Especially with you by my side."

Harry finally looks at you, his eyes holding something unreadable yet powerful. He stands abruptly and reaches his hand out. "Let's walk for a bit," he says with a tone that kicks your anxiety into high gear. 

You grasp his hand, and he leads you along the shoreline, your feet getting wet whenever the tide washes up. It's quiet except for the pesky seagulls, crashing waves, and salty breeze. Where you are right now makes you want to bottle up the memory so you can keep the feeling forever, replay this trip, and relive the most joyous moments of your life. 

Harry eventually stops, facing you with both hands holding yours tightly. He looks... pale. Are his hands shaking, or are you imagining things? Is he about to pass out from sunstroke? Did he eat too many peas? 

He clears his throat and visibly gulps, squinting at the sky and exhaling quickly. His feet shuffle nervously. An incomprehensible thought zings to the front of your brain. 

Is he about to do what you think he's about to do? 

"I might cry and possibly throw up, so please bear with me," he says, his voice shaky.

You just stare at him, unable to say anything. Then he begins lowering himself on one knee, and you just about go down with him. 

He removes his hands from yours and takes something out of his pocket. It's a velvet ring box, pink and delicate. 

You gasp as Harry opens his mouth, his watery eyes trained on nothing but you. "I love you with all my heart. I'm weak for the things you do, and it consumes me to the point where I feel like I might burst from loving you so much. Every word you speak or smile you give me makes me fall for you deeper and deeper. And you love me back. You love me better than anyone. And I realized when we first met that you're someone I not only want in this life but also need. You're the only one for me, and I'll take care of you, support you, and love you so thoroughly until you get sick of me. I'm rambling now, so I'll shut up and cut to the chase. I want to be your husband. Will you marry me? Please? Il mio cuore è solo tuo. If you want it, it's yours." 

Harry finishes his speech by opening the ring box to reveal a silver oval-cut ring that takes your breath away. A tear trails down your cheek as your lips wobble. You nod your head what feels like a thousand times. "Yes. Yes, I'll marry you. Holy shit."

He laughs beautifully, his eyes squinting so much that the captured tears in his waterline spill over. He stands and shakily puts the ring on the correct finger. It fits perfectly. 

You cup his cheeks and bring his face toward yours. "I love you," you say while kissing his flushed and tear-stained cheeks. "You're so sneaky. I wasn't expecting this until you looked like you were going to pass out in front of me." 

"Be glad I didn't throw up on your dress." 

"That's true." Suddenly, everything hits you. Harry, we're going to get married." 

He smiles with unbridled happiness, nodding before picking you up and running into the sea. The splashes he makes strike you with cold splatters, and you squeal, but it quickly turns into uncontrollable laughter when Harry spins you around and dips you toward the water. You squirm with resistance and manage to escape his arms. He stumbles from the waves but remains upright, then stares at you intensely for three seconds before kissing your lips like they're his life source. 

"My fiancée," he says, kissing down your face to your neck. "I adore you."

"Can we"—you whimper breathily—"go back to the villa and celebrate? Some wine, dessert, and... maybe some other things." 

He can't propose to you while looking this good and expect you not to jump his bones. 

"Sì, mi amore." 

—— 

At the villa, palpable tension lingers in the air and throughout your body. The adrenaline from what just happened is still coursing through your blood as Harry makes a beeline straight to the master bedroom. It's only right to follow with shallow breaths and a hammering heartbeat.

Approaching the bedroom, you see Harry already taking off his shirt. You walk over and lie on the bed, waiting for him to initiate the celebration. You're usually the one who likes to be in control, but being the sexually dominant type calls for preparation and the right kind of mood. Now, at this moment, all you want is to writhe in pleasure on silk sheets and feel Harry's touch everywhere. 

You're already impatiently aroused because of Harry's teasing on the drive back. His fingers were stroking the inside of your thigh, traveling up, up, up until they reached dangerous territory. He'd start to pull away after realizing how wet you already were, but you would trap his hand with your thighs, making him groan. Two could play at that game.

Now, Harry saunters over to you in nothing but his cotton shorts. His tanned skin looks tempting in the muted lamplight. The rest of the lights are off, and the moon is brightly shining in the indigo sky. 

"Ready for me?" he asks lowly, hungrily glancing over your body. 

You nod and bend your knees. Harry lies on his stomach and gets between your legs, his hands gripping your upper thighs with fervor. He must've put his rings on when you weren't looking. He knows you love the feeling of them. You're not picky as to where. 

"Gonna let me take care of you?"

"Please. Please, Harry." 

"Patience, my love. Let me see you." 

"I'm right here. Do something. Please, I need you." 

He shushes you with a soft timbre, scooting closer to where you need him the most. He lifts your dress, bunches the material up by your stomach, and then readjusts his grip on your thighs. His lips trail closer to your lace underwear, and he looks at you under his eyelashes. His eyes ground you, make you nervous, and leave you spellbound. Maintaining eye contact with him is hard when you know you'll come undone way too quickly from just his intense gaze. You're not giving him the benefit of that. Not tonight, at least.

Instead, you stare at the vaulted ceiling and gasp when his lips graze over your underwear. Soft, purposeful movements have you closing your thighs around your head as a reflex. Open-mouthed kisses over your wet lace drive you crazy. You're clenching and internally soliciting for him to just do something. 

"Stop teasing," you say firmly, still not looking at him.

"Don't be bossy." 

"I'm not being bossy. You're my fiancé, so you're supposed to be nice to me." 

He moves your underwear to the side. "Yeah? Does my fiancée want me to be nice to her? I'm always nice, baby. I'm always good for you; you know that." 

"You are. It's true. The nicest man I've ever known. No one has even come close." You squirm with impatience. "Just take them off." 

Harry doesn't waste any time, propping himself up to slide the material down your legs. You lift your ankles above his head to fling them off, then plant your feet back on the mattress and spread them wide open so he can resume. 

His mouth immediately latches onto your clit, sucking it, and his nose fits perfectly above it. You moan loudly, your back arching and your hands grasping his neck. You have to look at him now and watch him take care of you like only he knows how. When you do, it's like a sight straight from heaven. His brows are drawn in, his eyes shut, and his pink lips bring you pleasure in the most intimate way. 

Harry continues sucking before soothing his tongue along your entrance. Without warning, he removes his mouth and replaces it with his fingers. He dives two of them in, curling them in a way that makes you inhale sharply. His mouth occupies itself with kissing the inside of your thighs, biting little marks so you can remember this experience. 

The feeling of both his fingers and mouth is overwhelming, and your hand can't help but involuntarily pull his hair. 

"God," he mumbles against your thigh. "Do that again, baby." 

You pull harder, and a deep, raspy moan leaves his mouth. He begins kissing across your body while his fingers continue to bring you to your peak. He adds a third as he nips your waist, his head exploring under your bunched-up dress. He props one arm up to hover himself over you. You look at him with lustful eyes, your mouth parted, and soft moans escape when he hits a particular spot. He smears a messy kiss on your lips, and you try your best to return it as his fingers thrust in and out of you.

An orgasm quickly forms in your lower stomach. Harry massages your clit with the pad of his thumb to bring you there, knowing your body and when you're about to let go like the back of his hand. He grinds against the bed to soothe his own arousal. He's been hard since your act in the car, having felt your thighs clench around his hands, his fingers so close to his favorite spot. He apparently couldn't help himself. 

When Harry hits that final spot that has you crying out, you arch your back and let go. Your eyes squeeze shut as you moan from the delightful pressure freely flowing out of your body. 

Harry places his mouth back on yours as you finish, removing his fingers from inside you and gripping your hips, leaving a coat of your arousal on the love bites left there. Your body is strong enough to lift yourself on your elbows and leave marks on Harry's neck. He grunts when you bite the sensitive skin below his earlobe and grinds against the bed once more, stilling and then shuddering through a fierce release.

Oh. He came from that one touch. 

He falls flat on the bed, cupping himself and breathing heavily. There's a damp spot on his shorts. It's a filthy sight.

"That was embarrassing. I'm sorry," Harry murmurs, his cheek pressed against the pillow. "I thought I'd be able to last." 

You brush some sweaty hair off his forehead. "It's fine. I don't have to do any work now." 

"Hilarious," he says monotonously. He suddenly jumps up from the bed and shuffles to the bathroom, confusing you. You hear him wash his hands and then turn on the jacuzzi. He returns with a clean pair of boxers and smoothly lifts you from the bed. Your dress covers your exposed state, yet it doesn't hide the slick feeling between your legs. The warm water will feel amazing. 

Harry gently sets you on the sink counter as the tub fills up. He grabs a washcloth and dips it under the faucet before cleaning you. It's comfortably silent, with only rushing water in the background. 

When the jacuzzi is adequately filled, Harry helps you stand and remove your dress. Once naked, you quickly go to the bathroom while Harry removes his boxers. He then leads you to the jacuzzi to sit down. When he climbs in, you cling onto him for a cuddle as sleepiness washes over you. Harry presses a button to turn the jets on. Everything feels so lovely.

"I can't believe you said yes," he says. 

"You knew I would. How could I possibly say no to you after a speech like that?" 

"Dunno. We're, like, together forever now." He rubs the ring on your finger. "Well, not yet. But when we actually get married, it's a lifetime with each other. It's wild to think about, but I want nothing more." 

"I get what you mean," you say, scrubbing the red lipstick stains on his neck with the pads of your fingers. "I want this with you too." 

When you softly rub around his lips, he kisses your finger and looks at you with disbelief. You pluck his swollen bottom lip with your thumb, then lean in to plant a truthful kiss there.

Everything with him is so simple. Every touch is meaningful. Every unspoken word holds the weight of a million words. Every laugh leaves you teary-eyed with a heart full of love.

He is pure love. What he gives so naturally is exactly what he is.

Once your skin turns wrinkly and the water becomes lukewarm, you and Harry get out and dry yourselves off. He retreats to the bedroom to grab pajamas. When he returns, you put on an oversized shirt and walk out of the bathroom after draining the tub, running toward the bed and bellyflopping on it like a kid. Harry shuts the bedroom light off and flops beside you, letting out a long and blissful sigh. 

"I'm hungry," he says.

You snort. "You ate a million peas not even an hour ago. How are you still hungry?" 

"Sex makes me hungry. And stop making fun of my love of peas. Hey, can you get the cantaloupe? I'm knackered." 

His rapid change of topics makes you laugh. "Anything for you, pea boy."

You hear him faintly whine at your new nickname for him as you stroll into the kitchen. You open the refrigerator to grab a bowl of cantaloupe cubes and then return. Harry's eyes are fluttering shut, and his limbs are spread out on the mattress. You climb over him, sitting against the headboard, as he blindly reaches his hand for some fruit. He chews against the pillow, his cheeks squishing adorably. 

"Thanks," he mumbles with his mouth full. 

"Mm-hmm. I'm going to sleep. I'll put the bowl on the nightstand for you." 

Once you've moved the cantaloupe, you scoot down and lie on your back. Harry keeps reaching for the bowl without moving his head, sometimes missing entirely and waving his hand around to find it. You eventually close your eyes, a smile making its way to your face when you realize you'll wake up tomorrow as an engaged woman next to your future husband.

Harry finishes all the fruit in the bowl and then turns off the lamp. He tugs you against his chest, and you exhale happily, his warmth effortlessly pulling you under into a deep sleep. 

—— 

Two Weeks Later 

After situating yourself in the airplane seat, you pull out your phone and open Instagram. You and Harry are on your way back from Italy. It was an unforgettable two weeks together, and not one day went by without you making new memories. 

You had told only the closest people to you about the engagement—your parents and Harry's. No one else knows, so you decided to announce the news with an Instagram post. You wanted to wait until after vacation to worry about making phone calls and giving details about how it happened. 

Now, you start creating a post on the fourteen-hour flight to California. You already know what picture to use—Harry cutely holding a bottle of wine along the lusciously green countryside, ready for a picnic date in a park. Also with an impressive mustache. Throughout the ten days after the engagement, Harry decided to grow his faint mustache into a full-fledged one. You don't know how it grew so fast, honestly. You also didn't know how to feel about it at first, but you're accustomed to liking it now. It makes him look mature. 

How it feels between your thighs—well, that's a story for another day.

Harry has chosen to post a picture of the ring, gleaming brilliantly in the pink velvet box. And with him being the artsy, moderately strange social media poster, he had to add something extra to the picture—a paint swatch. Both of you spontaneously went paint shopping one day when you got bored in the villa. You had been talking to him for months about redoing the bathroom at the house, so you went to a local paint store to look at different options. Harry, being the sentimental and cheesy man he is, suggested painting it the color of the ring box he proposed with. You remember thinking the diluted pink would complement the white tiles and granite counter of the master bathroom perfectly. 

You couldn't possibly refuse the idea, especially since it would always remind you of that special evening on the beach.

You had searched with him to find a color that resembled the box, all while goofing around and laughing at the bizarrely specific names of the swatches. You pointed to a light green swatch appropriately named Peapod and told Harry he should paint the kitchen that color since he loves peas so much. He pouted at you and dramatically walked down another aisle. Typical. And so sensitive about his peas!

Harry is sleeping beside you, his head snugly settled on a pillow propped against the airplane window while soft snores escape his mouth. You'll wait for him to wake up so you can both post at the same time. As for now, you rest your head on his shoulder to also take a nap. Harry stirs and drowsily slaps his hand onto your knee to keep you close.

You'll miss Italy's golden sunsets, good-natured people, and ethereal views. However, the thought of going home and beginning a new chapter with your fiancé doesn't sound too bad. 

Bliss, in all its glory, takes hold once again.

——

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Blissful Delays (howard Stark)

requested by @groovy-lady May I please request some fluffy married Howard Stark & fem!Reader fic in which Howie and his wife finally get to go on their honeymoon (they got married soon after WWII ended and since Howard has a business to run Howie and Reader hadn’t gotten to have their honeymoon because of how busy they -especially Howard- had been) and it’s just lots of romantic adorableness with some sensuality thrown in? :3

Summary: You spend time with your newlywed husband.

Warnings: fluff

WC: 632

Read on ao3!

--

The sun hung low on the horizon, casting golden hues over the sapphire waters of the Amalfi Coast. The sea breeze danced through the open balcony doors of the luxurious villa, carrying with it the mingling scents of salt and citrus. After years of waiting, Howard Stark finally had his bride all to himself, with no projects, meetings, or emergencies to interrupt them.

“Howie,” you called teasingly, watching your husband fiddle with a camera by the railing. He had a determined frown, the kind you often saw when he was engineering something back in his lab.

“Just hold still, sweetheart,” he murmured, squinting as he adjusted the lens. “I need to capture you exactly like this.”

You laughed softly, brushing your fingers against the hem of your sundress as you turned to face him fully. “We’re on our honeymoon, Howard. Maybe the camera can wait?”

He froze mid-adjustment, his gaze flicking up to meet yours. The corners of his mouth lifted in a sly grin as he set the camera aside. “Fair point. Why immortalize the view when I could be basking in it?”

Howard crossed the balcony to you, his hands sliding around your waist. He pulled you closer, his forehead resting lightly against yours. “You know,” he murmured, his voice low and velvety, “I’ve been dreaming about this. Just us. No Stark Industries, no world-ending crises, no distractions.”

You cupped his cheek, your thumb tracing the faint stubble along his jaw. “It was worth the wait,” you said, your voice filled with quiet sincerity. “All of it.”

He smiled, softer now, and leaned in to kiss you. His lips were warm, his kiss unhurried—sweet but carrying the unmistakable spark of the man you loved. When he pulled back, his brown eyes gleamed with mischief.

“Care to test out that infinity pool downstairs?” he suggested, his hands playfully tugging at the sash of your dress.

You swatted his hand lightly, laughing. “Patience, Mr. Stark. Dinner first.”

Howard groaned dramatically, releasing you just long enough to hold out his arm. “If my wife insists. Shall we?”

The villa’s private dining area was set for two, the table adorned with flickering candles and a spread of Italian dishes that smelled divine. As you ate, Howard’s charm was on full display, recounting stories from the war and his early days of invention, each tale more exaggerated and entertaining than the last.

“You’re incorrigible,” you said, shaking your head as you sipped your wine.

“And you adore me,” he countered, his grin widening.

When the plates were cleared, the sky had turned a deep indigo, scattered with stars. Howard stood, offering you his hand. “Dance with me?”

“There’s no music,” you said, even as you let him pull you to your feet.

He hummed softly, guiding you into his arms. The tune was familiar—a swing number he used to play on the phonograph when you first started dating. Your laughter melted into contentment as he led you in a slow, swaying rhythm, the world fading away until there was only the two of you.

As the night wore on, the sensuality of his touch deepened. His fingers traced the small of your back, his kisses trailing along your collarbone, leaving you breathless and wanting.

“You’re everything I’ve ever wanted,” Howard whispered against your ear, his voice thick with emotion. “This heart, this life—it’s all yours, darling.”

The villa, the coast, the stars—it was all beautiful, but none of it compared to the love shining in Howard’s eyes. For the first time since your wedding day, it felt like the world had finally stopped spinning, allowing you both to simply be.

And in that moment, surrounded by warmth and love, you knew the wait for this honeymoon had been worth every second.

[chickensarentcheap]

Lost and Found- Chapter 26

Fandom: Extraction

Pairing: Tyler Rake and Esme Drummond (established OFC. However, you do not need to read the other fics to understand this one)

Tagging: @tragiclyhip @themaradwrites @secretaryunpaid @youflickedtooharddamnit @munstysmind @residentdormouse @thebejeweledwatercat @asirensrage @theesirenteller @ninjasawakenedmystar @alisbackalleybbq @arrthurpendragon @ocappreciation @occommunity @fanficanatic-tw @karimac @kmc1989

Warnings: profanity, brief mentions of blood, bruises, scrapes, cuts. Nothing major.

Link to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43179357/chapters/134444914

My tag list is OPEN. Please just message me or comment on this post to be added :D

*****

The house is one of half a dozen Nik has collected around the world; located on the Amalfi Coast along the southern edge of Italy’s Sorrentine peninsula. A highly secure five-bedroom, six-bathroom villa that backs onto a cliff that overlooks the Tyrrhenian Sea; built a kilometre from the main road and hidden from sight by a dense, expansive lemon grove.

Despite the years of both work experience and friendship, he had never set foot in any of her homes; business always being conducted in neutral yet secretive places, over the telephone, or even -years before- at his old shack in the outback. They have always travelled in different circles; Nik’s beyond-the-job friendships extending to powerful politicians, multi-million and billionaire businessmen, heads of organized crime and the shady, top-notch lawyers that defended them. Tyler prefers to stick with the couple of buddies he’s known for years; the ones that he can trust with nearly every one of his darkest and deepest secrets. Koen and Rata both serving with him in the ‘normal’ ranks of the Australian Army before he secured his place with SASR. The former his direct superior officer for several years; since the day he’d shown up at boot camp as a cocky, wet-behind-the-years eighteen-year-old.

While Nik prefers the sophisticated, luxurious life that being a gun runner and the head of her mercenary business provides her, Tyler has always lived well below his means. Able to afford much more than that shack in the outback and even the house in the Broome, but never feeling the need for something more expensive and flashy. Even keeping the same old pickup he’d had since he was a teenager; doing his own repairs for nearly two decades before finally running the old girl into the ground.

Their distinct differences had prevented him from developing something more with Nik; drawn instead to the normalcy and practicality that Esme brought into his life. She had always longed for a much simpler and quieter existence; preferring not to draw attention to herself and never surrounding herself with those that they encountered in their respective careers Somehow managing to keep the two sides of her life -of HERSELF- completely separate; leaving the job behind the second a mission wrapped and able to -no matter how brief- enjoy a normal life. The job didn’t control her, and she didn’t obsess over her successes and failures. Indulging instead in all the little moments that came with routine and domesticity. Nik, however, was unable ever to let the job go. Spending every waking moment immersing herself in the lifestyle and enjoying its spoils. And she certainly never entertained the idea or wish of something more beyond it; laughing off any suggestion that perhaps marriage and children and settling down were somewhere in her cards.

He had never realized he wanted any of that either; his first marriage had crashed and burned, and he’d been a complete and utter failure as a father. But then he’d met Esme, and everything quickly changed. HE changed. Finding himself both mesmerized and intrigued by the love and joy she somehow still possessed for life and everyone in it, the whimsy she possessed, and those hopeful and wistful dreams that she carried with her everywhere she went.

THAT was someone he could see carving out a future with.

Upon arrival, he reluctantly puts his trust in the medic to ‘deliver’ Esme to the waiting doctor; a longtime colleague of Nik’s who has attended to many injuries -both minor and life-threatening and everything in between- over the course of the last decade and a half. The largest of the villa’s guest rooms is already prepared and stocked with various medical equipment and supplies: a machine to monitor vitals, an IV stand and a pain medicine pump. And it isn’t until that moment that he’s able to register his discomfort; plagued by near-crippling mental and physical exhaustion. His entire body screaming in pain; his lower back on fire, both his knees stiff and painful, and his head pounding from a likely concussion of his own. Yet he knows sleep will likely elude him. Plagued by a potent mixture of emotions; the profound worry for Esme, the lingering regret and guilt for his choices, and his momentary lapse of judgement. And a rage that remains on a low boil when it comes to both Alessio, his actions, and Winston’s betrayal and the words he’d spoken in the basement.

Instead of allowing himself to second-guess his decisions and plot revenge, he focuses on Millie. Carefully unbuckling her from the booster seat in the back of one of Nik’s many chauffeured cars, easily lifting her with one arm and tucking her tight into his chest. Her legs and arms dangle loosely as her head rests on his shoulder; not offering up even the slightest of flinches or mumbles when he tosses her sequined unicorn backpack -full of her art supplies, finished pictures, and her beloved doll and koala bear- over his shoulder.

“Her room’s the first one at the top of the stairs.” Nik nods toward the central staircase; gleaming white and gray marble accompanied by polished steel handrails and glass panels. “On the right.”

It makes the bitterness return; the realization that Millie has her own ‘place’ in Nik’s home. An expansive and beautiful suite fit for a princess, decorated in all of her favourite colours, holding all of her favourite toys and belongings, the closets filled with her clothes. He had been robbed of all of that; never getting the chance to put a crib together, change a single diaper, put her in a bubble gum pink onesie, or slip one of those ridiculous flowered headbands onto her head. He never got to tuck her in and read her a bedtime story; he was never able to help with potty training or assist with brushing her teeth. He hadn’t witnessed her going from rolling from back to front and side to side to sitting up and eventually pulling up into a stand. He wasn’t there when she’d taken her first steps, hadn’t seen her learning to run, and hadn’t heard her first words.

So many missed opportunities. Things that others had been blessed to experience. While he’d never even known of her existence.

He uses a hip to push open the door and an elbow to flick on the light. The room is enormous; possessing its own walk-in closet and ensuite bath and a separate crafting area sectioned off with a dinosaur AND princess-themed room divider. An entire wall is taken up with built-in shelves, hosting books, stuffed animals, and a wide selection of Barbie dolls, action figures, and matchbox cars. A wrought iron canopy bed sits in the middle of the room and atop a three-stepped platform; the frame decorated with pink and gray camouflage drapes and the mattress covered in a Batman comforter.

Tossing the backpack in a nearby chair, he climbs the steps to the bed; Millie clutched to his chest with one arm as his free hand pulls back the blankets and flat sheet. And she gives a slight whimper and a heavy sigh when he places her in the middle of the mattress; her eyes flickering open as she lets out a long, soft “daddy” and reaches up for him.

Time seems to stand still. His entire body tenses as the emotions -profound and overwhelming- rush through him. It’s been a long time since he’s been called that; over a decade since Austin had addressed him that way during his last weeks in the hospital as the cancer ravaged him. Esme had been the one who’d given him a semblance of hope; that one day he’d once more be given that title and he’d hear the word come out of a little one’s mouth. When she left, that dream had evaporated; gone was the one person he could ever see making that kind of commitment and building that kind of future with. And while Millie may not be fully aware of what she’s saying in a semi-conscious moment, it still nearly brings him to his knees; tears welling in his eyes as his throat tightens and his heart hammers within his chest.

Grumbling her displeasure of being awakened, Millie sits up in bed; her brow furrowed and eyes half closed, a pout curving her lips. Stuck in a state of disorientation and confusion as she glances around the room. “Where are we?”

“We’re at Auntie Nik’s house. The one in Italy. Remember how I told you? About how we were going to stay here for a few days?”

“Oh…” Yawning noisily, she presses the heels of her palms into her eyes. “...yeah…I remember. Where’s momma?”

“The doctor is taking a look at her. Just to make sure she’s doing alright. Then she’s going to sleep. Just like you’re going to. You want jammies on or are you just gonna sleep in your clothes or…?”

“Jammies, please. Where’s Franklin? And Posie? I can’t sleep without Franklin or Posie. Posie needs her jammies on, too. They’re with mine. They match.”

Collecting the doll and koala out of the backpack, he drops them on the bed. “And the jammies…”

“In my dresser. Top middle drawer.”

He searches for pyjamas for both her and the doll, finally locating matching nightgowns: white cotton with thin straps, the fabric emblazoned with colourful butterflies.

“Those are my favourite!” Millie enthuses, as she wriggles out of her clothes. “Mommy made those for us! Out of pillowcases! They’re really supposed to be dresses, but I always liked wearing them as jammies. So does Posie.”

“Your mum’s a pretty talented one, isn’t she?”

“Most of the time. Just don’t ask her to cook. She’s not very good at that. At all. My dirty clothes go in there…” She nods towards the ensuite bathroom.. “...that’s where the washer and dryer are.”

“You have your own washer and dryer? You're four.”

“It’s not like I know how to use them. They’re just there. For convenience, I guess. Well, I do know HOW to put stuff in the wash and in the dryer. I just can’t reach to turn them on.”

“You are way too smart for your own good.”

“Mom says that all the time.”

Retreating to the ensuite, tossing the clothes into the washer; leaving the door open for more to be added later. And when he returns to the bedroom, both Millie and the doll are already in their pyjamas; the four-year-old waiting in bed with a hairbrush in one hand, and a package of elastics in the other.

“We have to do my hair. Or it gets really knotted when I’m asleep and then it’s really hard to brush it in when I get up.. And it hurts like hell too! Do you know how to braid hair?”

“No.”

“I can teach you!”

“How about we leave that for tomorrow? When it’s not so late. Think maybe we could do something else with it? Put it in a bun or a ponytail or…?”

“Ponytail is alright. But you gotta put it up on the top of my head, or I can’t sleep. ‘Cause it hurts to lie on it.”

He gingerly and patiently works the brush through Millie’s tresses, then gathers it in both hands and secures it with the hair tie she passes to him. It’s a simple experience shared with his daughter, yet it brings back vivid memories of similar moments with her mother. Those times when Esme would be busy in the kitchen; focused on a recipe she was trying to recreate or the baking that had that little cabin filled with delicious aromas. He’d approach her from behind; sneaking a kiss to her cheek or temple before putting her hair back for her.

“What else?”

“I gotta brush my teeth.”

“How ‘bout we skip it tonight?”

“Momma won’t like that.”

“I won’t tell her if you won’t. We’ll just make sure you brush them twice as long after breakfast.”

“Does that work? Does it really make up for not doing it before bed?”

“Of course. Would I lie to you?”

Millie shakes her head, ponytail swaying from side to side.

“So does your mum read a story to you or…?”

“Sometimes. Not every night. Only if I ask. I’m too tired tonight. No stories. But thank you.”

“Do you want me to just tuck you in or…?”

“Will you snuggle with me? Just for a little bit? It’s been a really bad day, and I’m still super sad. I need a snuggle. A really good one. And momma can’t do it, so…”

He agrees to the snuggle; moving towards the door in order to shut off the lights, pauses with his hand on the switch. “You got a night light or something?”

“Nope. I’m not scared of that dark, daddy. I’m not a baby!”

He wants to tell her that yes, she is. That she’s HIS baby. How regardless of how old she gets and how many children she has of her own, she always WILL be. And while the first time being called daddy had been a shock, the second occurrence hits even harder; the realization that it was a fully conscious decision on Millie’s part and not just a slip of the tongue… a random moment…while still teetering on the edge of sleep. He’s thankful for the darkness that envelopes the room when he turns off the light, able to hide the tears sparkling in his eyes and the millions of questions a very observant Millie will lob at him. And climbing into bed beside her, he wraps both arms around her; that tiny body snuggling tightly against him, doll and bear under one arm, her face nestled in his ribs.

“You good?”

“I’m good. You’re nice and warm. And comfy. You make me feel safe. Like I don’t have anything to be scared of.”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of. No one can hurt you anymore. I won’t let them.”

“Promise?”

“Promise. And I’d promise with a million pinkie promises.”

“That’s a lot!”

“That’s how honest I’m being. You and your mum ARE safe. And I’ll make sure you stay that way. I won’t let anyone hurt you guys. And there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for either of you. You know that, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Nuzzling her face against his side, she places her free hand on his chest. “Will you draw on my back? Please? It helps me sleep.”

He obliges, his own eyes closing as his fingertips create random patterns on her back. Several minutes passing before she yawns and raises her head to look at him, eyes sparkling in the moonlight that streams through the curtains.

“Daddy?”

“Millie?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

“I’ll go to sleep AFTER I ask my question.”

“What is it?”

“You and momma lived together, right? Before I came along? In Australia?”

“We did.”

“In the house you live in now?”

“No. A different house. In a different part of Australia.”

“But the house you live in now is the house we are ALL going to live in? Or do we have to get a new one?”

“We won’t have to get a new one for a while. There’s enough room for all of us. And maybe one or two more people.”

“That means you and momma can start having babies!”

“That’s something your mum and I would have to talk about. I don’t know if she’s quite ready for that. Having babies.”

“Well, I hope she’s ready soon. ‘Cause I really want to be a big sister. And I’m not getting any younger!”

“If you think you’re not getting any younger, how do you think I feel? I’m way older than you are.”

“How much older?”

“A lot.”

“How much is that? How old ARE you?”

“I’m forty.”

“Holy shit!”

“Excuse you? Forty’s not THAT old.”

“It’s middle age! You’re older than momma!”

“I am.”

“Momma’s only thirty-four. But she’s going to be thirty-five soon. Maybe we can have a party for her. For her birthday.”

“I don’t see why we couldn’t.”

“We can even make her a birthday cake and put up balloons and streamers and play games! We can even take her out for dinner!”

“You got it all planned, do you?”

“Most of it. I don’t know about the guest list, though.”

“That’s something we can talk about when it’s closer to the time. For now….” He drops a kiss on the top of her head. “...it’s time for bed. It’s late. And it’s been a really long day. Time to sleep, okay?”

“Okay.” Pushing herself up onto her elbow, she pecks his cheek, followed by the corner of his mouth. Her face buried in his ribs as she once more lies down next to him. “Goodnight, daddy. Love you.”

Tears threaten once more. “I love you, too. So very much.”

*****

He’s teetering on the edge of sleep when a soft knock comes to the door; Nik standing on the threshold, motioning for him to join her and the doctor in the hallway. Carefully slipping from under Millie’s arm and out of bed, he tucks the blankets around her slumbering form and then leans down to press a kiss to her forehead. Reluctantly leaving her side, he joins Nikand the doctor in the hallway, quietly shutting the door behind him.

“How’s she doing?” Nik inquires, her voice scarcely above a whisper.

“She’s finally asleep. I don’t know where she gets all that energy from. She wore me out a long time ago.”

“You’ve got your work cut out for you, daddy. She’s cute as hell, but she can be a real handful. And you’ve just been thrown right to the wolves.”

“Esme?” Tyler addresses the doctor. “ How is she?”

“Very lucky. Considering the intensity of the crash and the damage done to the vehicle, I’m surprised we’re not looking at life-threatening injuries. If not worse.”

“Anything I need to worry about or…?”

“For the most part, I agree with the medic’s findings. There’s no sign of internal bleeding, and there’s no dilation of the pupils, slurred speech, or difficulties with reflexes. And no confusion; she was able to tell me her full name, what day, month, and year it was, and give a very detailed description of what exactly happened. Ruling out a brain injury, the diagnosis remains the same; whiplash and a moderate to severe concussion. Both should begin to ease within the next few days. I do suspect a bruised liver and spleen, however. I’ll be able to monitor those over the next forty-eight hours. For any sign of tearing or rupture.”

“He does think the sternum is broken,” Nik pipes up. “Based on the severity of the pain. And limited movement.”

“Nothing more than a hairline fracture,” the Doctor explains. “And nothing that we could repair surgically or even cast for. The best course of action is none; just letting it heal on its own. She’ll need to rest it for at least four weeks; no lifting anything over ten pounds, no repetitive movement. She can wear a sling if she finds it lessens the discomfort. As far as I can tell, the majority of the pain is actually from the contusion caused by the seat belt; deep and prolific bruising from the top of her shoulder, running diagonally to the left hip. I have her on IV antibiotics and pain meds for the next twenty-four hours; after that I’ll be able to switch her to oral medication.”

“Can she eat or drink? If she wakes up hungry or thirsty…?”

“She’s allowed both solids and liquid. I suggest keeping meals small and light. Her system is in shock from the amount of injuries and the pain; anything too heavy could cause stomach upset. And preventing further discomfort is important at this time.”

“And how long will we have to stay here? When can I take her home?”

“Within a week, she should be able to move around quite freely and without much difficulty or pain. I wouldn’t suggest flying any sooner than that; the altitude would put pressure on the brain, and with the concussion, it could cause severe issues. Swelling, blood clots, aneurysms. It’s safer to wait seven days. After that, even when home, you’ll have to keep an eye on her; make sure she stays on top of her meds, and follows the rules when it comes to healing properly.”

“But she’s going to be okay? She’ll be back to normal? Eventually?”

“She’s young and healthy. There’s nothing to suggest she WON’T be back to normal. Just keep an eye out for anything that suggests trouble; severe headaches beyond what a concussion would provide, any unexplained swelling and redness anywhere on the body, a high fever, speech issues, or any loss of consciousness. If any of those happen, she has to be seen immediately. Wherever you are. Now…” Tilting his head to the side, his eyes narrow as he takes in the various bruises and cuts on Tyler’s neck and face. “...perhaps I should take a look at YOU now.”

“You don’t need to. I’m fine. I cleaned myself up. Fixed what I could. I don’t…”

“You should be looked at,” Nik gently persuades. “Esme wasn’t the only one in that accident. You’re pretty banged up. Just let the doctor take a look and…”

“I said I’m fine.” His voice stern. Harsher than it needs to be. “I’ve gone through a lot worse. And lived to tell about it. All I really need is some sleep.”

“If you have your own concussion or some internal damage or…”

Ignoring Nik, he once more addresses the doctor. “I’ll let you know if I start feeling worse. Right now, I’m just tired. I just need to rest. It’s been a hell of a long day. Thank you,” He offers his hand. “For taking care of her. If anything had have been seriously wrong…”

“She’s going to make a full recovery. And because of her good health and how she’s taken care of herself throughout her life, she’ll likely heal faster than most. Right now, rest and relaxation are her best friends. And keeping up with a med schedule. I’ve left my home and cell numbers on the nightstand in the bedroom; call if you have even the slightest bit of concern. I’ll be right over.”

Nodding in both appreciation and farewell, he turns on his heel to head for the bedroom next door.

“Tyler…wait…”

“Nik, not tonight. I’m not in the mood for this shit. I’m tired, and I’m sore, and I desperately need at least a few hours of sleep.”

“I wasn’t going to…”

“I don’t need to have the doctor look at me, and I sure as hell don’t need you getting on my ass. So if you're even thinking about bringing up me leaving when all this is over…”

“Actually, I WAS going to say that I had your things brought to the room. And that there are fresh towels and facecloths in the bathroom. I would have had one of the other guest suites made up, but I already knew you would argue with me; that you wouldn’t want to be away from her.”

“Despite how rough things have been…between us…I do appreciate it, Nik. Everything that you’ve done. Especially in the last few days. I don’t agree with what you did; not letting me know that Esme was alive and that I had a kid out there. And it’s going to take me a hell of a long time to get over it. I can’t pretend I’m not pissed off. That I’m not hurt. I can’t just turn all that off, you know? It isn’t something I can just forgive.”

“I couldn’t betray her trust. Not even for you. She relied on me; to keep her and Millie safe. And I…”

“Safe from who? Me? I wasn’t a threat to them. You didn’t need to protect them from me.”

“She wanted to protect you. She thought she was doing the right thing. And whether I agreed with that or not…”

“I’m not going to get into this right now. I just can’t do it. I’ve said everything I needed to say. Other than thank you. For taking care of her and Millie. Keeping them safe. You didn’t have to step up like that, but you did. And if it wasn’t for you, who knows where they’d be right now. Kinda scares me to even think about it.”

“I took care of them for YOU. Because I knew one day she’d track you down and you’d get that chance; to be a family and grow old together. I WANTED that for you, Tyler. I wanted you to get your ‘happy ever after.’ And I’ve never seen you as just a commodity. You’ve always been more than that. Much more.”

“I want to believe that, Nik. I do. But right now…”

“You’re hurt. You’re angry. And you’ve got every right to feel those things. I just hope one day you’ll realize what I did, I did for them and YOU. Try and get some rest. It’s been a long day. And Millie is going to have you up and bright and early, believe me.” “If it’s before the crack of dawn, I’m sending her to you.”

“Don’t even think about it. I plan on sleeping until noon.”

“You’re gonna up with the sun, and you know it. It’s just who you are. The way you’re made.”

“Try and relax, Tyler. It’s safe here. THEY’RE safe.”

“Sometimes that’s easier said than done.”

“In a week’s time, you’ll be back home. With your family. The chances of any threats finding you there…”

“There’s always a chance, Nik. You know that.”

“I’ll do what I can. When it comes to handling things in New York City. Making sure the trouble stays there. And once things settle down…for good…that’s it. You’re free.”

“Only if you’ll let me be.”

“It’ll be hard to let you go. We’ve been through a lot together. SEEN a lot.”

“You should know by now that you can’t get rid of me THAT easy. After all, you’re Auntie Nik, yeah? Something tells me Millie wouldn’t stand for you just up and disappearing.”

“She doesn’t have to worry about that. She’s my family. So is her mom. And so are you. Sleep well. You’ve earned it.”

Nodding in agreement and apprehension, he moves towards the guest room, hesitating as his fingers curl around the door handle, and just as Nik steps onto the top landing of the stairs. “Nik?”

She hesitates.

“Thank you.”

She manages a weary smile. “Goodnight, Tyler.”

*****

A long, hot shower makes him feel almost human again. Thirty minutes spent standing motionless under a punishing stream of hot water as it not only rid his hair and body of remaining remnants of debris and blood, but brought some relief to his lower back, base of his skull, and both shoulders. Afterwards in the light of the bathroom, he’s able to better assess the damage done to his body; various cuts and abrasions along both arms and legs, large bruises on the front and backs of his thighs and in the middle of his back, several smaller across his collarbone. A perfect impression of the steering wheel -and its emblem- covers the majority of his sternum, and the skin on the left side of his rib cage has begun to turn vivid, various shades of purple and blue. Far surpassing the damage done in Georgia and Vienna, even WITH the gunshot to his hand and to his lower left abdomen. The latter missing all vital organs and lodging near his hip; an easy removal for the medical team at the Graz-Karlau prison. Barely leaving a scar behind and requiring a very short rest and recovery time.

He navigates the bedroom by both the streaks of moonlight that spill through the window coverings and the glow given off by the portable ECG machine monitoring Esme’s vitals. Rummaging through the rucksack; he locates the lone pair of sweats he’d packed for his initial business trip; grimacing at the stiffness in his knees and discomfort in his back as he steps into them. The bed -more expansive than an average king- is more than large enough for both of them to sleep in, and for her to be kept safe from his tossing and turning; eager to spare her an errant elbow to the back or stomach or a knee into a thigh. And he creeps to her side, watching as she sleeps soundly; light, peaceful smile curving her lips’ with her face turned towards the window. The soft, silvery sheen the moon casts upon her face shows off the various cuts and bruises that she’d incurred earlier in the day; the vivid purple and blue upon her forehead, across the bridge of her nose, and on the tops of both cheeks and under one eye.

It’s painful to look at; the mere thought of her injured and in discomfort nearly splitting his heart in two. Hating his perceived negligence and failure to keep her safe had led her to this; hooked up to various wires and tubes from the IV and pain. Hurting far worse than he’d ever expected it to; believing that watching his son suffer and waste away had steeled him against witnessing someone experiencing pain and illness. But it aches to his very soul; twisting and wrenching at his guts and a sorrow -for someone who is still very much alive- creating a death grip around his heart. And emotion chokes at him as he crouches at the side of the bed; smoothing a hand over her hair and laying his palm on the top of her head, thumb repeatedly brushing across her brow.

“I’m so sorry, Me.” He grazes his knuckles over her bruised and swollen cheek. “I am so fucking sorry.”

She murmurs in her sleep, then releases a long, soft sigh as she nestles her cheek into his palm.

“And I’m sorry for being as angry and as hurt as I am. I know you did the best you could; that you left because you were scared, and you wanted to protect me. But you kept my daughter from me. When there was no reason to. And I don’t know how long it’s going to take me to get over that. If I ever really do. But that doesn’t mean I don’t love you. I have ALWAYS loved you. Those five years changed nothing.” Leaning forward, he presses a lingering kiss to her brow, then to her lips. “You sleep, okay? ‘Cause that’s the only way you’re gonna get better. Because that’s what Millie needs; her mom back to normal. And I need that too.” He pulls back with a heavy sigh; running the tip of his index finger down the bridge of her nose. “This is all going to be over soon. I promise. There’s nothing for you to be scared of anymore. No one can hurt you now. And they won’t hurt you EVER again.”

His knees crack, and he bites back the pain as he stands. The limp in his right leg more pronounced as he retreats to his side of the bed, peeling back the layers of blankets and slides underneath. His body is sore and weary, and his head immediately sinks into the pillow; the case and the crisp, linen sheets cool and refreshing against his skin. He’s never experienced this level of exhaustion; not even during the months of tedious and often agonizing physical therapy sessions that had preceded his release from the hospital in Dubai. It’s a tiredness that is bone…SOUL…deep; both limbs and eyes feeling impossibly heavy, his own body seeming rooted to its place. And despite the years of frequent bouts of insomnia, it isn’t long before rest claims him. Lulled to sleep by the faint beeping of the EKG machine, Esme’s soft rhythmic breathing, and the rolling of the waves as they wash up onto the shore.

*****

He sleeps soundly despite the pain and only over-the-counter pills to dull it, stirring only once when the nurse crept into the room in the dead of the night to change Esme’s IV and med bag and then reset the pump. He remembers a brief, exhausted chat; the nurse apologizing for waking him, the exchange of pleasantries, and his peppering of questions in regards to Esme’s vitals and the continued care she’ll be receiving. Already back asleep before the woman even finished her duties and slipped from the room. When he finally wakes for the day, it’s courtesy of a tiny hand repeatedly -and remarkably vigorously- shaking him and a tiny voice calling his name. And cracking open his eyes, he moans in discomfort when he’s immediately greeted by the sun’s harsh rays, followed by Millie’s wide, beaming smile as she stands at the side of the bed. Clad in her pyjamas with her doll under one arm, teddy under the other; her high ponytail having loosened in her sleep and now sitting at an awkward angle on the side of her head.

“Hi!” she chirps. “Hi, daddy.”

“Hey…”

“Did you sleep good?”

“Better than I expected to. Is something wrong?”

“Nope.”

“You’re okay?”

Millie nods.

“What are you doing? What…?”

“I’m hungry. My tum is complaining.REALLY loud. I went downstairs and looked for Carmen, but I couldn’t find her. And there’s no brekkie waiting in the kitchen. Usually, she has brekkie finished and waiting for me.”

“Who’s Carmen?”

“Auntie Nik’s cook.”

“Auntie Nik has a cook?”

“And someone that shops for her, someone that books all her appointments, a chauffeur, and a maid.”

“What does she do? If she has all those people doing everything for her?”

“Wears nice clothes and kicks butt and takes names.”

“Is that what you’re going to be like? When you’re older?”

“I’m already like that.”

Chuckling, he reaches out to playfully tug on her ponytail. “So I guess this means I better get my ass up, yeah? Can’t exactly do stuff on your own.”

“I CAN make my own breakfast. Well, just cereal and toast, but still, I’m ONLY four, so that’s pretty good, right? That I can do that?”

“Your mumma’s been doing a damn good job, that’s for sure. Teaching you things.”

“She wants me to be strong and independent. But not grow up too fast. But one day, I’ll be able to make pancakes and scrambled eggs and bacon. Not just boring old cereal and toast.”

“Are you trying to tell me you want something else? More than that?”

She giggles as she drops her chin to her chest. “I’m REALLY hungry. I could eat the shit out of a dead hippo.”

Smirking, he tosses off his blankets. “Where did you learn that?”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t give up my sources.”

“Well, you know what? I could eat the shit out of a dead hippo, too. So why don’t we go downstairs and raid the fridge, and see what we can dig up. Sound good?”

“Sounds good.” She steps back as he slides out of bed, her brow furrowing as she studies her mother’s bruised and battered and sleeping form.. “ What about momma, though? She’ll be all by herself. She might get lonely. What if she wakes up and we’re not here? She might be scared. And sad. I don’t want her to be scared and sad.”

“IF she wakes up, she knows we’re not far away. That we wouldn’t just leave her. She knows how much we love her; that we’d never just take off on her. Besides, she’s going to be doing a lot of sleeping for the next few days.”

“‘Cause the doctor said so?”

“It’s the best thing for her. So that her body can get better. And that’s what we want, yeah? Mumma to be all better?”

The four-year-old nods.

“How ‘bout you tuck her in? She’d like that.”

Her face visibly brightens. “Like a momma burrito?”

“Something like that. Don’t do it as tight, though. And be careful; you don’t want to get tangled up in all those wires and tubes. Careful and gentle, okay?”

Handing him her doll, she scurries around to Esme’s side of the bed; slipping her body between the machine and the IV stand and gingerly stepping over or slipping under various tubing and wires. Carefully spreading and smoothing the blankets over her mom’s body, then loosely tucking them underneath her. And a distinct sadness darkens her eyes and furrows her brow when she runs a palm over Esme’s hair and leans in to press a kiss to her cheek.

“I miss you, momma. I love you. You’ll feel better soon. I promise. Daddy and I will take really good care of you! Right, dad?”

Nodding, Tyler leans down to drop a kiss on the top of her head when she scurries back to his side; plucking the doll from his grasp.

“I’mma leave Posie here,” Millie announces, then proceeds to lift the top blanket and tuck her under it. “So she can keep an eye on mumma! And if mumma wakes up, she’ll see Posie here and know that I’m coming back for sure. ‘Cause I never leave Posie behind. Not for good!”

“You know, you have a really big heart in that little body of yours.”

“Momma always used to tell me that I got that from my daddy. That his heart was way bigger than his body, too. Is that really true? ‘Cause your body is super big!”

“Is that a polite way of calling me fat?”

“You’re not fat! You’re thick!”

He smirks. “I wonder where I’ve heard that before.”

“You’re like a giant! You’re really tall and crazy big! Do you think it’s true? What momma said? About your heart being bigger than your body? Because if it is, your heart is super huge!”

“You know what I think? I think your mum’s the most amazing human being I’ve ever known.”

“Next to me, right?”

“Yeah…” Scooping her up onto his arms, he presses pressing a kiss to her temple as he settles her on his hip. “...definitely next to you.”

*****

He relaxes in a poolside lounge chair; hair damp and matted to his head, his aching and tired body clad in a pair of board shorts bought during an impromptu shopping excursion with Nik and Millie. The latter fast asleep against his chest; snoring lightly, her eyes shielded by a pair of pink and purple polka-dotted sunglasses, her bathing suit -one of many she’d excitedly picked out- beginning to dry in the heat. Exhausted from the morning and early afternoon activities and the drama of the last seven days; the time spent in the sun and water solidifying her successful escape from New York City. Content and relaxed; confident that her old life is now firmly behind her and the new one is just lingering on the horizon. And despite the worry and sadness revolving around her mother’s injuries, she feels safe and secure; putting all of her trust into her surroundings and the people around her.

Nik joins them, standing at the side of his chairs with her hands shoved in the pockets of a pair of wide-legged, burgundy linen trousers and a pair of oversized sunglasses. A smile curling her lips as she glances down at a snoozing Millie.

“Out like a light.”

“She’s had a hell of a week. It was bound to catch up to her.”

“She doesn’t do that with just anyone. Fall asleep on them like that. Means she feels safe. Secure. She trusts you.”

“I’m not sure she’s making the right decision. Look what her mum’s trust in me got her.”

“What I said on the plane…about what happened…I didn’t mean for it to sound like I was blaming you.”

“That’s exactly what you meant for it to sound like. I know you, Nik; I know you don’t say shit you don’t believe. And you’ve never been one to pull punches.”

“I wanted an explanation. A reason. For how things went so wrong, so quick.”

“And I told you. They came out of nowhere. There’s no way I could have seen it coming. It just happened. And it happened THAT fast.”

“You didn’t hear anything? See anything? You..?”

“I was concentrating on driving. On getting us to the meet-up point. We’d just gone through all that fucking bullshit with Winston..”

“Which was probably weighing heavily on your mind. Probably had you on edge. Distracted.”

“...and all I wanted to do was get the fuck out of there. Get to you and Yaz and then to the airport. I thought the roads were clear; Wick had people blocking all the intersections, and you had eyes on things. Or at least I THOUGHT you did. Had you not pulled the guys early…”

“I thought you were in the clear. You were only three blocks away. I made a decision based on that. I did what I thought was best.”

“So did I. I did what I thought was best for Esme. To get her the fuck out of there. I had just gotten her away from Winston; all I had to do was get her to the airport and on that plane, and everything else was going to be easy. I trusted you to have the people in place. To have my six. And if I DID let my guard down, it’s because of that. Nothing else.”

“I admit, it wasn’t my best decision. I should have left them in place longer. Until we actually DID meet up. But…”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore, Nik. You’re beating a dead fucking horse. I’m tired, and I’m sore, and I’ve got a lot on my plate. I don’t need this, too. Can we just let it go? I think you fucked up, you think I fucked up. Can’t we leave it at that?”

“I think I deserve an explanation. Not as your friend. But as your boss.”

“And I’ve told you everything there is to know. There isn’t always an explanation or a reason, Nik. Sometimes, shit just happens. There’s nothing simple about this job. It’s not just black or white. And you of all people should know that. You…”

When Milliie whimpers in her sleep, his mood abruptly changes; the tension in his jaw and shoulders releasing, the brightness returning to his eyes. And he smooths a hand over her and down her back, his lips soft as they press against her brow. “It’s alright, Amelia. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

She heaves a long, content sigh, then nestles her face against his chest and shoves her thumb into her mouth. And for several minutes, he and Nik remain silent; his chin resting on the top of Millie’s head and his hand rubbing her back in smooth, slow circles.

Nik uses a fingertip to sweep wayward strands of hair off of the little one’s forehead. “She’s beautiful.”

“She is. Esme and I do good work.”

“You most definitely do. Although I’m not sure how much work Esme actually put in. I think her genes were completely absent that day. Millie looks just like you.”

“That’s an awful thing to say about my kid, Nik. That she looks like her old man.”

“You know how many times Esme has heard it? How many people think she’s just a nanny? No one ever believes they’re actually mother and daughter. Until Millie opens her mouth of course; she tells stories EXACTLY like her momma does.”

“All over the damn place.”

“The only two people I know who can go off in five different directions and never get back to what started everything off.”

“You know how many times Esme will start a story, only for me to never find out what the original point of it was? Too many to count.”

“It’s just part of who she is. That exuberance and that light that she’s managed to hold onto. I’ve never met anyone like her, you know. Not in this circle, anyway. I don’t know how she does it; holds onto that optimism and that brightness. Everything she’s been through…the things she’s seen and the things she’s done…all of that has been stacked against her. Yet she’s still…Esme.”

“She’s the strongest person I’ve ever known. How many people do you think would have stuck around on that bridge? For someone like me?”

“Not a lot.”

“Yet she did. For some reason. She wasn’t leaving me there. And she had every reason to, believe me.”

“She saw the potential. Things about you that no one else did. Or maybe you just never LET people see them. See YOU.”

“Maybe a bit of both.”

“Maybe…”

“Were you there? When she was born?”

Nik nods. “I was.”

He glances down at his daughter; taking a deep breath and then noisily clearing his throat. A vain attempt at pushing away the emotion that threatens to choke him.

"Tyler…”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Being there. For Esme. I’m glad she wasn’t alone.”

“She asked me. If I’d be the one to go in with her. And regardless of what you think, I tried telling her; convincing her to call you and let you know you were going to be a dad. I told her there was nothing for her to be afraid of; you weren’t going to ignore her call or turn her away or question whether or not the baby was yours. That there was nothing she could ever do to make you hate her that much.”

“I didn’t hate her at all. I never did. I loved her. I never STOPPED loving her.”

“And that’s what I told her. That you loved her and missed her and were spending all your time looking for her. That if there was ever a time TO contact you, that was it; the baby was very close to being born, the nursery was done, and the name was picked out. I told her you would be on the next plane there; to be with her and see your daughter come into the world.”

“But…”

“She was scared. Of rejection. Because she loved you, and her heart couldn’t take it; if you wanted nothing to do with her or the baby. I told her that that would never happen, but…”

“She’s pretty damn stubborn.”

Nik nods.

“You know I never got to see that with my son, either? Him being born? I was in Iraq; on my second tour with SASR. We were located just outside of Mosul. Mia was pissed about it; she was already six months pregnant when I signed up to go, and she knew there was no way I’d be back in time. I tried to justify it; I was one of the commanding officers, and they needed all hands on deck. Now I realize it’s just who I was; I wasn’t capable of putting her first. And I probably never even should have tried being a family man. I just didn’t have it in me.”

“You were young. You’d already spent years devoting everything you had to the military. It becomes ingrained in you. The only thing that really matters. Believe me, I know.”

“Sometimes I wonder if I ever really wanted to be. A husband and a father. At least back then.”

“You were in love. And you wanted to make her happy. You were willing to do whatever it took to make that happen.”

“I was. In love. Or I thought I was, at least. Took me until I was thirty-five to figure out it wasn’t the real deal. I think I just settled. The same way Mia did. I wasn’t really her type; she’d always been into lawyers and politicians and businesses. I was just some guy in the army. I wasn’t anything special.”

“To her, you were.”

“Guess she just wanted something different. Someone a little more dangerous. Younger.”

“And you were there. Ready, willing, and able. And lonely.”

“I don’t know what I was. Stupid, for the most part. But I’d lived practically my entire life without a family; my mum was long dead, and I’d already cut my dad out of the picture. Mia was there. I liked being around her. Not that we actually spent a lot of time together, considering her career kept her busy, and I was always being shipped off to different places.”

“And then your son came along…”

“He just sort of happened. We didn’t plan on having kids. She wasn’t even sure she wanted any. I was just so caught up in thinking I was in love and had found my ‘happily ever after’ that I didn’t really give a shit if we had any or not. But things happened, and he came along, and I tried my best to be a good dad. We know how THAT turned out.”

“That one choice you made…that one mistake…doesn’t mean you were a terrible father. It doesn’t negate the good things, Tyler. Or the love you had…you STILL have…for your little boy.”

“It was a hell of a mistake, Nik.”

“Doesn’t change the fact you loved him. That you still do. Or that HE loved YOU.”

“I never thought I’d be a dad again. I had no plans to be one, that’s for sure. I’d already done that once, and it didn’t end well. And then Esme came along and everything changed. I changed. She made me want to be a different person. A BETTER person. She wasn’t like anyone else. I knew that right away.”

“I think she knew that same thing about you.”

“Once she stuck around after Dhaka, I knew that was it. That SHE was it. I don’t regret it, Nik. The way things happened. I know it was the wrong place and totally the wrong time, but I wouldn’t change it. I wouldn’t change a fucking second. I would take that bullet to my throat a hundred times if it meant I’d be with her.”

She blinks at his honesty.

“When we decided to get the house and started talking about getting married and having a family, I was terrified. Of being a husband and a dad again. I didn’t want to fuck it up. I’d already screwed over one wife; Mia deserved a lot better than I ever gave her. That’s when I told myself it would be different. That I’D be different. I’d be the man that Esme needed and wanted. That she deserved. I’d be a good dad. The one I never had. I would do everything right; I’d be there for my wife, and I’d put my family first, and I wouldn’t be a total fucking failure.”

“You were never a failure, Tyler. You…”

“I used to think about it. Esme being pregnant. Seeing her get bigger and bigger. Feeling the baby move. Making a nursery. Going to all the appointments. I was looking forward to it; going through all of that with her. I’d missed it all the first time, I wasn’t going to miss it again.”

“I know what you’re going to say. I know…”

“That was all taken from me. I never got the chance. I was ready and I was willing, and I was able, and it never happened. Sure, she got pregnant, and the baby came along. But I just didn’t get to know about it. I didn’t get to be part of it, did I.”

“Tyler…”

“I don’t hate you, Nik. Let’s get that out of the way. We’ve been through way too much together. Not to mention everything you did for me after Dhaka and everything you did for Esme and Millie. That you continue to do for them. I could never thank you enough; for keeping Esme safe and for making sure that she didn’t go through everything alone and that she and Millie were taken care of.”

“I don’t need your thanks. They’re my family. So are you.”

“Like I said, I don’t hate you. I might not like you very much right now…”

“And I deserve that. I know I do. But I don’t regret the choices I made. I don’t regret helping Esme or keeping her secrets. And I would do it all again. No questions asked. And I’m sorry if it hurts you to hear that. It was never personal, Tyler. I never did any of that to intentionally hurt you. And I DID try and convince her to contact you. Many times.”

“I really hope that’s true, Nik. That I don’t find out something completely different. Because that whole not hating you thing? That could change. I can’t make any promises.”

******

Nik settles on the lounge chair beside him, stretching out of her legs and setting her clasped hands on her stomach.

“It was a beautiful day.”

Tyler arches a quizzical brow.

“When Millie was born. It was sunny and cool, and the leaves were just starting to change.”

“Seems kinda fitting. That she came along when she did. It was always her mum’s favourite season; Esme used to go on and on about fall in New York City. About how she’d always take walks in Central Park; she loved seeing all the different colours and hearing the leaves crunching under her feet and how the air actually seemed fresh for a change. She made it sound incredible. Beautiful.”

“She has a knack of seeing things differently than we do. She holds onto so much trust and wonder; she sees the beauty in everything. And everyone. She could watch the same sunset a million times and find a million different things to marvel at. I used to tease her about it; almost scold her for being that way. For always seeing the cup as ‘half full’. But now that I think about it, wouldn’t it be better if we all saw it that way?”

“She’s just different, Nik. From what we’re used to. We’ve all been through hell and back. In one way or another. And somehow she’s still like that. I used to give her shit for it, too. Always said she was setting herself up for disappointment if she kept seeing the world like she did. Seeing the good in everyone no matter how shitty they treated her. Even told her how stupid it all seemed; that she was being naive and childish and she was just going to get hurt.”

“If anything…anyone…is a breath of fresh air…”

“I realize now that if she didn’t see things the way she did? Millie wouldn’t even exist. Esme wouldn’t have stayed on that bridge. Dhaka wouldn’t have happened the way it did. The things that went down between the two of us. She wouldn’t even have given me a second look. She would have just seen me as a huge mess. A liability. And moved on with her life.”

“I know you talk about how she came along when you needed it the most, but have you ever thought that maybe you did too? That you came along when she needed you to? Because despite all that light and that brightness and that love for the world and everyone in it, there was a very broken and lonely woman…little girl, even…under all of it. I would see it sometimes; this sadness that would just take over. When she’d just seem so lost and vulnerable and hurting. That changed. When she met you. I saw it in that hospital. All that time she was holding on and fighting for you, she was holding on and fighting for herself too. She wanted to be what YOU needed. And what you deserved.”

“She is way more than I have ever deserved.”

”But she doesn’t see it that way. She doesn’t see YOU that way. You came along, and you pulled her out of a really dark, horrible place. And I know it’s hard to see that when you’re in a pretty bad place yourself, but it’s true. The two of you found each other when you both needed it the most. She didn’t just save YOU, Tyler. You saved her too. In more ways than one.”

Swallowing around the lump of emotion sitting square in his throat, his fingers moving through Millie’s damp hair as he nods slowly, considering Nik’s words.

“I know you probably have a lot of questions. About the last five years. About Millie. Maybe even about before she was born. If there’s anything you want to ask or know about it or I can help you understand better…”

“How was it? The pregnancy? Was it really hard on her? Were there any complications? I mean, I assume everything went okay, or we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now, but…”

“It was pretty uneventful. There were no scares. No real health issues. Yaz and I got a place in the city. We wanted to be close by; to keep an eye on her, make sure she was taking care of herself and that she got everything she…and the baby…needed. She was never alone, Tyler. Not physically, anyway. We were there when she needed us. Maybe too much at times. I’m sure we annoyed her a lot. I know I can be pretty assertive and overwhelming at times. And Yaz…”

“He’s always had a hard-on for her. I don’t think her being pregnant changed that. Knowing that little freak, it probably made it even better in his mind.”

Nik laughs. “Yeah, maybe. But it’s been harmless. He’s always known he doesn’t stand a chance.”

“I mean, she has bad taste in men, but it’s not THAT bad.”

“He was so into things. He loved the idea of being an uncle. He was constantly buying Miillie things; always showing up with toys and outfits and things Esme could put away until she was older. And when we found out it was a girl? He got even worse. That kid was going to be the biggest, most spoiled princess on earth.”

“Esme knew? That it was going to be a girl?”

“She didn’t want to know at first. She was pretty adamant about waiting. Letting it be a surprise. But she ended up caving. At the very last ultrasound. And low and behold, baby Rake was a little girl. We always called Millie that. By your last name. It might not be that on paper, but we talked openly about it. You were always on her mind, Tyler. There wasn’t a day that went by where she didn’t think about you. TALK about you. You may not have been there, but to Esme, that baby was just as much yours as it was hers.”

“I would have been there. If she’d called me out of nowhere and told me about the baby, I would have gotten on the first flight out of Australia. Nothing…no one…could have stopped me from being there. Not you, not Winston, not The High Table. No one.”

“And she knew that. Which is why she was determined NOT to tell you. I’m not saying she made the right decision. Or that I agree with how she handled things. But it was not my place to tell you. Especially about Millie. I couldn’t betray her, Tyler. Not even for you.”

“As hurt as I am, as PISSED as I am, I’m just glad she wasn’t alone. That people were there for her. I fucking hate I didn’t get the chance, but it’s never really about me, has it? It’s about her and Millie. Especially Millie. Always has been. And that’s the way it should be.”

“Esme was having that baby no matter what. Not once did she ever think about not having her. Let alone talk about it. She knew it wasn’t going to be easy and she was lonely and sad and missed you every second of every day. Millie was part of you. Her only connection to you. And there was no way she was giving that up.”

“She’s always wanted to be a mum. She talked about it a lot. When we lived in The Kimberley. About coming close with Mark and having that taken away from her. I don’t think she ever got over that. And I knew one day it would happen; she and I would get our shit together, and we’d start a family. I didn’t think it would happen this way, mind you.”

“She never stopped thinking about you, Tyler. Loving you. She talked about you all the time. About wishing you could be there. So, please…PLEASE…don’t ever think she didn’t want you in her life. Or Millie’s life. Because nothing could be further from the truth. That baby was all she had. Aside from Yaz and I, Millie was her only connection to you. And no one could take that away from her. She wouldn’t let them.”

“Did she ever talk about me to Millie?”

“Maybe not by name. But even she was just a tiny baby. Millie heard stories about you. And all good, believe me. Esme has NEVER said a bad word about you to that little girl. And she always promised that she’d take Millie to meet you; that one day they’d go to Australia and track you down and let you meet each other.”

“Esme had chances. She’s had four years, Nik. She…”

“She had to be ready. She had to get over all that fear and worry she had. I couldn’t force her to just stop being that way. We’ve already established how stubborn she is. But I’d be honest with her; I’d tell her that she needed to contact you and you had the right to know you were a dad. That you deserved to be part of Millie’s life. But other than that, there wasn’t much I could do.”

“What about when Millie was old enough to start asking questions? What did she tell her then?”

“She would tell Millie that her dad was a good person. A big man with an even bigger heart. That he lived far away and one day, they’d go and visit him. And that she loved him very much. She always would.”

His voice quivers with emotion. “I don’t even know what to say. What IS there to say?”

“I know it hurts, Tyler. What Esme did. Having your child kept from you. I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re feeling. But you need to know that it wasn’t done maliciously. It started with her wanting to protect you, then ended up being about wanting to protect herself.”

“From me? She didn’t need to protect herself from me. I’ve never been a threat to you. I have never hurt her. I’ve never raised my voice, let alone a hand to her. I never would. I’d kill myself if I ever got that way. If I ever laid even a finger on her in THAT way…”

“She was protecting her heart. She was scared, Tyler. That you’d turn her away. That you’d turn MILLIE away.”

“That would never…EVER…happen. No matter how pissed or hurt I was.”

“Rationally, she knew that. But fear…and love for that matter…don’t always have us thinking…or acting…rationally.”

Sighing, he glances down at Millie; running a fingertip down the bridge of her nose and then pressing a kiss to the tip.

“Would you like more?” Nik asks. “Kids?”

“I’d love more. I’d love to go through it all with her. I WANT that, That experience. With HER.”

“But…”

“But it’s kinda selfish, isn’t it? Wanting it for ME. She has to want it too.”

“I don’t think you need to worry about that. Something tells me she’s on the same page. She loves being a mom. And she’s good at it. Damn good.”

“She’s an amazing mum. I couldn’t have asked for a better mother for my kid.”

“You’re going to get your ‘normal’. Your ‘happily ever after’. It won’t be much longer now.”

He nods in agreement. “Thank you, Nik. For telling me all of this. I needed to hear it. Esme can say it all until she’s blue in the face, but hearing it from someone else?”

“It’s a different viewpoint. Coming from an outsider looking in. I just didn’t want you to think she never wanted you in her life, In Millie’s life. Because she did. She missed you, Tyler. Every second of every day. And believe me, I know she wishes she could change things. Go back in time and make different decisions.”

“I told her I wouldn’t want that. When you change one thing, you change everything. I believe that. And even if it were possible, I wouldn’t risk it. I wouldn’t risk a damn thing.”

Smiling, she reaches out and lays a hand on his shoulder, lightly squeezing. “It was never about her not loving you, Tyler. It was always about how much she DID.”

[mobscene-london]

THE DATES SO FAR:

Travel to Costa Brava in Spain and explore the historical Tossa de Mar before having dinner aboard a catamaran ride around the coast at sunset.

A day in Heraklion, Crete, to explore the beaches, local architecture, and museums.

A visit to San Vito Lo Capo, Sicily, to embrace the beautiful beaches. An afternoon spent climbing the face of Monte Monaco, before winding down with a relaxing dinner in the town, with plenty of local wine to share.

Head to Tromsø, Norway, to go ice swimming in the Norwegian Sea. Warm up in a wood fire sauna, before heading into the city for a cosy dinner, and a night of great cocktails at the Magic Ice Bar.

Edinburgh, Scotland. A trip to the Camera Obscura and World of Illusions, filled with optical wonders and playful illusions, followed by a walking tour to the historic Edinburgh Castle. The trip will conclude with a night in a cosy log cabin surrounded by the beauty of the Scottish landscape.

A trip to Amsterdam to visit the art museums on the Museumplein, followed by dinner and live music.

A night out in Moscow. Italian food and French Champagne at Mario's, followed by a ballet at the Bolshoi Theatre. Finish things off with a late-night stroll to St. Basil's to take in the architectural beauty of the city.

Brunch date along the beaches of Tenerife, before joining the festivities of Carnival of Santa Cruz de Tenerife.

A weekend getaway to the small island of Malta, where they can submerge themselves in the culture, food, and scenery, far away from the busy life of London and all its drama.

An apartment in Central Paris, overlooking the Eiffel Tower, with prosecco upon arrival. A day of leisure, followed by dinner at the Sphére, located on Rue La Boétie.

Spend some time exploring Wine Factory N1 in Tbilisi. After plenty of wine tasting and bar hopping, an evening dining at the opulent Biltmore Hotel awaits; beautiful views over the city as the perfect accompaniment.

A pamper filled day at the luxurious Blue Lagoon Spa in Iceland, before toning it down with a beer and brewery crawl through the country's capital. End the night camping in one of Reykjavik's Geodomes.

The night consists of great food and live music. A chance to dress up and step into another world. Dinner at the Story Restaurant in London, followed by Abel Selaocoe and Britten Sinfonia at the Barbican Centre.

A trip to New York to visit the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Empire State Building, Central Park, and do a food tour of the city together.

Private Island Living off the coast of Greece. A small Island villa just for two. Peace, quiet, and no nosey neighbours.

ADDED THURSDAY:

Enjoy a long-weekend away to Ibiza where you will experience both sides of the Island; nights out in the best clubs with the greatest DJs and the nights in watching sunsets by the beach, most luxurious dinners. A date with the best of both worlds.

Get tipsy together on a weekend away at Amalfi Coast. Stay in five-star Hotel Santa Caterina, with its far-reaching views along the coast, a luxurious beach club and two restaurants, for a four-day ‘Luxury Amalfi Coast Wine Experience’.

Arrive in San Sebastián just when the locals get started for the night, around 9pm. Choose from a number of Michelin star restaurants and spend the rest of the night drinking and enjoying the company. Wake up the next day for a walk along the golden beaches and explore more of the food the city has to offer.

Take a hike around the Isle of Skye and maybe a dip in the small water ways if you're brave enough. See the beauty that Scotland has to offer. The night will end at a cottage for 2 with a chef catered meal and an overnight stay.

During the day, enjoy a walking tour of Haga Old Town in Gothenburg, Sweden and a small boat tour of some of the archipelago. End the night with dinner at family owned Familjen where the mood is cosy and the food is all local.

A long weekend in Monaco. Enjoy the comfort of the iconic Café de Paris, spending the afternoon pampered in its spa before heading to an opera. Michelin restaurants, beach sunsets, and ultimate luxury mark a perfect weekend.

Austria. Visit the lakeside alpine village of Hallstatt in the Alps and enjoy a picnic lunch via boat ride. Attend an Austrian Apple Strudel Cooking Class in the afternoon before venturing to Salzburg to tour Hohensalzburg Fortress. Dine at the restaurant atop and attend a night-time concert there while taking in the balcony view of the historic town of Salzach below, including the river and mountains.

A weekend in Positano, along Italy's soaring Amalfi Coast. This includes a private boat tour to the island of Capri.

Sunset watching on a private yacht off the Greek Islands in quiet and private location, followed by luxurious but relaxed dinner and champagne. (edited to be in-keeping with geographical constrictions. Send a follow up date acknowledging this if you wish to change it. ♥)

Jetset to Finland, spend the morning exploring the snowy forest on horseback, try your hand at ice fishing before enjoying lunch prepared over an open fire. Experience the excitement of an overnight husky or reindeer safari to chase down the northern lights and return to the lodge the next afternoon to wind down in one of the glass house igloos of Kakslauttanen resort and enjoy the spectacular sights with a warm hot chocolate and a decadent five course dessert degustation.

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Honeymoon Villa Amalfi Coast | Villa Costa Degli Dei

Introduction:

Exploring the Amalfi Coast:

Imagine waking up to the gentle sound of waves crashing against the cliffs, stepping out onto your private terrace, and being greeted by panoramic views of azure waters and colorful villages cascading down the mountainside. From the charming town of Positano with its pastel-hued buildings to the historic streets of Amalfi and the hidden gems of Ravello, each destination along the coast offers its own unique charm and allure.

Choosing the Perfect Villa:

When it comes to accommodations, a honeymoon villa on the Amalfi Coast provides the perfect blend of luxury villa Amalfi Coast, privacy, and romance. Whether you prefer a quaint seaside retreat or a lavish cliffside villa with pool Amalfi Coast, there are countless options to suit every couple’s preferences and budget. Picture yourself unwinding in a spacious living area adorned with elegant décor, savoring a candlelit dinner prepared by a private chef, or simply soaking in the breathtaking views from your own private terrace.

Indulging in Romance:

One of the highlights of booking a Honeymoon Villa Amalfi Coast is the opportunity to indulge in romantic experiences that will create lasting memories. Spend your days exploring charming coastal towns hand in hand, enjoying leisurely strolls along scenic pathways, or embarking on a romantic boat tour to discover hidden coves and secluded beaches. In the evenings, dine al fresco at a cliffside restaurant overlooking the sea, sip on fine Italian wine as you watch the sunset, or simply relax under the stars in the comfort of your own Honeymoon Villa Amalfi Coast.

Making Memories to Last a Lifetime:

Whether you choose to spend your days lounging by the pool, exploring the cobblestone streets of ancient villages, or simply basking in each other’s company, a honeymoon Villa Amalfi Coast offers endless opportunities for romance and relaxation. From the breathtaking scenery to the world-class cuisine and warm hospitality, every moment spent on the Amalfi Coast is sure to be filled with love and joy. So why wait? Start planning your dream honeymoon today and discover the magic of the Amalfi Coast with your loved one.

[denimbex1986]

'If you freeze any frame of Netflix’s Ripley, then you’re likely going to be presented with a visual masterpiece.

That is partially attributed, of course, to Robert Elswit’s gorgeous black and white cinematography. But you can also thank production designer David Gropman for setting the series in such fantastically photogenic and gorgeous locations. A mixture of found locations and built sets, Gropman’s designs for Ripley capture the eye in a way that few other designs this season have.

Gropman’s work along with other craft elements of the Patricia Highsmith adaptation deliver a fully Emmy-worthy presentation. Building and scouting for those amazing locations, Gropman felt that he was finally able to evolve his personal aesthetic into full-scale design.

“I’ve always used color very carefully in my work as a production designer. I’ve always wanted to have a theme that takes you from one end of the story to the other and not call too much attention to itself, letting the story and the world sort of exist for the actors and the words,” Gropman explained. “For me, finally doing a black and white film, something I’ve wanted to do for so long, eliminated that trick of color to help tell the story. I feel like I’ve finally arrived where I wanted to as a designer, just pure expression of light and shape in its purest form.”

Ripley, written and directed by Oscar winner Steven Zaillian (Schindler’s List), adapts Patricia Highsmith’s original novel The Talented Mr. Ripley in an 8-episode limited series. In the series, con artist Tom Ripley (Andrew Scott) travels to southern Italy to convince trust fund playboy Dickie Greenleaf (Johnny Flynn) to return home and work for his father. After a series of questionable events, Ripley kills Dickie and begins to take over his life, leaving Dickie’s girlfriend Marge (Dakota Fanning) highly suspicious of Ripley.

Locations play a significant role across the series, not only in presenting picturesque and camera friendly scenes but in helping to define the characters in subtle ways. Early on in the series, Dickie’s gorgeous, seaside villa dominates the proceedings. This location was one of the first that Gropman and team scouted along the Italian Amalfi Coast since they weren’t going to build this on a soundstage as they did with Tom and Marge’s interiors. The space needed to reflect Dickie’s wealth and easy-going nature — something that relayed the dichotomy of extreme wealth with a bohemian lifestyle.

The villa is also filled with beautiful art (think Picasso) that helps attract Ripley to this lifestyle. The location says a great deal about Dickie as a person who Ripley so desperately wants to be.

“The important thing to understand about [Dickie’s] character is that he has great wealth, which Tom finds captivating. He has beautiful things that Tom finds captivating, but I think what he finds most captivating is the fact that Dickie is so easy living with these things. They are not the most important thing to him,” Gropman said. “The most important thing to him is this bohemian life that he’s made for himself and can afford in a beautiful villa in a beautiful town on the Amalfi Coast and with these beautiful things surrounding him. Tom, of course, is amazed by all this, but I think amazed most of all by the way Dickie lives with these things.”

After killing Dickie in a rental boat (Gropman acquired five variations of the boat, including the one that he purposefully sinks), Ripley flees to Rome flush with Greenleaf cash. He plans to spend his first night in Rome as Dickie Greenleaf in the Excelsior, a luxury hotel whose exterior is actually the Hassler Hotel located near the top of the Spanish Steps. The decadent interior, something that Ripley had yet to experience until meeting Dickie, was filmed at the Palazzo Ruspoli, a 16th century palazzo in the heart of Rome.

You can even rent the room now if you’d like to live la vita Ripley.

You’d likely spend more time there than Ripley actually does after nearly being discovered by Marge. He quickly leaves that hotel for a less attractive hotel called the Hotel Bolivar. Gropman chose that location because of the rain-drenched steps leading up to it and the fantastic sign that says Bolivar. The interiors were shot elsewhere.

Another fascinating aspect of Ripley is the characters’ relationship to art. Dickie collects art (such as the Picasso) and tries to paint on his own. Unfortunately, he’s completely devoid of actual talent. Ripley, though, becomes obsessed with art, particularly elaborate Caravaggio pieces. That inclusion comes directly from writer / director Zaillian who, according to Gropman, wanted to imbue the story with the same passion he felt for the controversial artist.

“You take the story of Caravaggio and how he was a bit of a scoundrel, a murderer, accidentally or not, and then you have the beautiful sense of light in all of Caravaggio’s paintings. Some people say one of the great shames about not being able to see Ripley in color is you don’t have a chance to see Caravaggio’s paintings in full color,” Gropman laughed. “But what you do get to have is all the beautiful light and shadow and composition that Caravaggio was so brilliant at.”'

[ysbeeview-ysvoice]

11 Reasons to Visit Italy's Amalfi Coast — Condé Nast Traveler

It may only stretch for 30 miles, but the Amalfi Coast offers enough idyllic beauty and Italian luxury for a standalone trip. Driving its winding seaside roads will take you to charming coastal towns, scenic beaches, villas and gardens, and some of the best hotels in the world. Looking for la dolce vita? You've found it. ......

▶️ READ ib full with beautiful Amalfi coast pictures on Condé Nast Traveler

[amoremioweddingfilm]

wedding highlight videos Italy | amoremioweddingfilm.com

Amore Mio Wedding Film: Capturing Unforgettable Wedding Memories

Welcome to Amore Mio Wedding Film, your premier destination for luxurious and cinematic wedding videography and photography in Italy. Nestled in the charming town of San Miniato, Tuscany, we are located at Via Giambattista Pergolesi, 29, 56028 San Miniato PI, Italy. With over a decade of experience, we specialize in destination weddings across Europe, Asia, and America, documenting the most cherished moments of your special day.

Choose Amore Mio Wedding Film

A Decade of Excellence

For 10 years, Amore Mio Wedding Film has been at the forefront of premium wedding videography and photography. Our portfolio spans more than 1,000 weddings, from intimate ceremonies to grand multicultural celebrations, including Indian, Jewish, Orthodox, Arab, and Catholic traditions.

Cinematic Elegance

Our cinematic wedding videography style ensures every heartfelt moment is captured with unparalleled beauty. We focus on the emotions, moods, and fine details that make each wedding unique, creating timeless films that resonate with romance and authenticity.

Storytelling Through Reportage

We adopt a reportage approach, combining candid, documentary-style shots with artistic creativity. This storytelling method allows us to highlight the couple’s journey, weaving every special moment into a seamless narrative.

Tailored Videography Packages

Understanding that every couple is unique, we offer bespoke wedding videography and photography packages. Whether it’s a luxury Italian villa wedding or a cultural destination celebration, we tailor our services to match your vision.

Our Services

Wedding Videography

Cinematic Wedding Films: Luxurious, high-quality films that capture the essence of your special day.

Highlight Videos: Short, impactful videos featuring the best moments.

Cultural Wedding Videography: Expertise in documenting multicultural ceremonies with respect and creativity.

Wedding Photography

Documentary Wedding Photography: Candid moments that tell your love story.

Luxury Wedding Photography: Elegant and premium photographs designed to last a lifetime.

Destination Wedding Photography: Perfectly capturing Italy’s breathtaking landscapes and venues.

Popular Locations for Italy Wedding Videography

Italy offers an unparalleled backdrop for wedding films, from the romantic Tuscan countryside to the grandeur of Lake Como, Amalfi Coast, and historic Rome. Our team works seamlessly with your venue to ensure every magical moment is beautifully captured.

Your Love Story, Our Passion

At Amore Mio Wedding Film, wedding filmmaking is more than just a profession—it’s our passion. We are committed to delivering stunning visual stories that celebrate the universal emotions of love while highlighting the unique personality of each couple.

For timeless wedding memories that you’ll treasure forever, contact Amore Mio Wedding Film today. Let us turn your dream wedding into a masterpiece.

Transform your wedding day into a cinematic legacy with Amore Mio Wedding Film—where love meets artistry.

[mrandmrsweddinginitaly]

Dreamy Wedding Venues in Italy | Amalfi Coast & Puglia Experts

Discover breathtaking wedding venues in Italy's Amalfi Coast and Puglia. From luxurious villas to romantic gardens, Mr. and Mrs. Wedding make your dream destination wedding a reality. Plan your unforgettable celebration today

[eartha2024]

Planning a Unique Corporate Retreat in Europe: Tips and Insights

Corporate retreats are no longer just an excuse to escape the office; they have evolved into an opportunity to build team cohesion, inspire creativity, and foster innovative thinking. Europe, with its stunning landscapes, rich cultural heritage, and world-class facilities, offers countless options for organizing a unique and impactful corporate retreat. By exploring tailored corporate retreats packages, you can simplify planning while ensuring an experience that meets your team’s goals. Whether you’re planning to brainstorm in the Alps, rejuvenate by the Mediterranean, or strategize in a historic castle, here’s a guide packed with tips and insights to make your European corporate retreat unforgettable.

1. Define Your Goals and Objectives

Before deciding on the location or activities, clarify the purpose of your retreat. Is it to reward your employees, enhance team bonding, develop leadership skills, or brainstorm new ideas? Clear goals help determine the ideal destination, itinerary, and budget. For example:

For team bonding: Consider activities like vineyard tours in Bordeaux or hiking in the Scottish Highlands.

For innovation and brainstorming: Choose creative hubs like Amsterdam or Berlin, known for their inspiring environments.

2. Choose the Perfect Location

Europe’s diversity allows for a variety of retreat settings. Here are some standout options:

Urban Retreats: Cities like Barcelona, Prague, or Vienna offer a mix of history, culture, and modern amenities. They’re perfect for companies looking to combine business with leisure activities.

Nature Escapes: Retreats in the Swiss Alps or Tuscany’s countryside offer a serene environment to unplug and refocus.

Unique Venues: Consider booking a castle in Ireland, a chalet in the French Alps, or a villa on the Amalfi Coast for an extraordinary experience.

3. Timing is Everything

When planning a retreat in Europe, timing plays a crucial role. The peak summer season (June to August) sees an influx of tourists, which might affect pricing and availability. Consider the shoulder seasons (spring and autumn) for fewer crowds, mild weather, and lower costs. For a cozy winter retreat, December offers the added charm of Christmas markets across Europe.

4. Incorporate Local Experiences

One of the greatest advantages of hosting a corporate retreat in Europe is the opportunity to immerse your team in local culture. Tailor your itinerary to include unique regional activities:

France: Host a cooking class in Provence or a wine-tasting session in Burgundy.

Italy: Organize a Vespa tour through the streets of Rome or a pasta-making workshop in Florence.

Norway: Embark on a team-building adventure with a Northern Lights excursion or fjord kayaking.

5. Choose Accommodations Wisely

Accommodations can make or break your retreat. Look for venues that offer both comfort and functional spaces for workshops or meetings. Many European destinations have venues specifically designed for corporate groups, combining luxury amenities with high-tech facilities. Whether it’s a boutique hotel in Lisbon or a resort in the Dolomites, ensure the venue aligns with your retreat’s objectives.

6. Plan for Accessibility and Logistics

Europe boasts a well-connected transportation network, making it relatively easy to travel between countries. When selecting a retreat destination, prioritize accessibility for your team:

Choose locations with direct flights or minimal transfers.

If your team is spread across multiple cities, pick a central location like Paris or Munich for convenience.

Arrange group transportation like private shuttles or trains to ensure smooth logistics.

7. Balance Work and Leisure

A successful corporate retreat strikes the right balance between structured activities and downtime. Overloading the schedule with meetings and workshops can lead to burnout. Incorporate leisure activities that allow team members to relax and bond, such as sightseeing tours, yoga sessions, or casual dinners at local restaurants.

8. Hire Local Experts

Partnering with local event planners or retreat organizers can significantly enhance your retreat experience. They bring insider knowledge, from securing unique venues to curating authentic activities. Local experts can also help navigate language barriers, cultural nuances, and permit requirements.

9. Embrace Sustainability

As sustainability becomes a priority for businesses, consider organizing an eco-friendly retreat. Opt for venues with green certifications, support local businesses, and minimize waste by avoiding single-use plastics. You can also include environmentally friendly team activities, such as tree planting or beach clean-ups, to leave a positive impact.

10. Evaluate and Reflect

Once the retreat concludes, collect feedback from participants to evaluate its success and identify areas for improvement. Use surveys or informal discussions to understand what worked well and how the retreat contributed to the team’s goals.

Sample Itinerary for a Corporate Retreat in Europe

Day 1: Arrival and Welcome

Arrive at the destination and check into the retreat venue.

Welcome lunch with local delicacies.

Icebreaker activities to set a collaborative tone.

Day 2: Workshops and Exploration

Morning workshop or brainstorming session.

Afternoon guided city tour or nature hike.

Evening team dinner at a traditional restaurant.

Day 3: Team-Building Activities

Morning team-building exercise, such as a cooking class or outdoor challenge.

Free time for personal exploration or relaxation.

Closing ceremony with awards or acknowledgments.

Day 4: Departure

Farewell breakfast.

Depart for home, rejuvenated and motivated.

Final Thoughts

Planning a corporate retreat in Europe requires careful thought, but the rewards are immense. By selecting a destination that aligns with your company’s goals, incorporating unique local experiences, and prioritizing logistics, you can create an unforgettable retreat that boosts team morale and drives business success. So pack your bags, gather your team, and let Europe inspire your next big idea.

[tripnest]

Italian Weddings: How to Plan the Wedding of Your Dreams in Southern Italy

Introduction Southern Italy is known for its breathtaking landscapes, rich history, and romantic atmosphere, making it a dream destination for couples looking to tie the knot. Whether you're imagining a seaside wedding on the Amalfi Coast or a fairytale ceremony in a historical villa, Southern Italy offers a variety of picturesque locations and traditions to create a memorable wedding experience. 1. Choosing the Perfect Wedding Venue in Southern Italy Southern Italy boasts a diverse range of wedding venues, from luxurious seaside resorts to rustic countryside estates. Here are some of the most popular choices: - The Amalfi Coast: A world-famous wedding destination, the Amalfi Coast is renowned for its dramatic cliffs, colorful towns, and sweeping views of the Mediterranean. Couples can choose to marry in iconic locations like Positano, Ravello, or Praiano, where the sunset views are simply magical. - Puglia’s Masserie: In the countryside of Puglia, you'll find traditional masserie, which are restored farmhouses turned into luxury venues. These offer a rustic and intimate setting, surrounded by olive groves and vineyards, ideal for outdoor weddings. - Sicily’s Castles and Villas: Sicily offers a touch of old-world charm with its historical castles and villas. Places like Castello di Donnafugata or Villa Igiea in Palermo provide a grand backdrop for weddings with an air of elegance and history. 2. Italian Wedding Traditions to Incorporate Italian weddings are steeped in tradition, and Southern Italy has its own unique customs that can make your celebration special. Here are some traditions you might want to include: - The “Confetti” Tradition: In Italian weddings, guests throw sugared almonds (known as confetti) as a symbol of good luck and prosperity. These almonds are often handed out in beautiful bags to guests as wedding favors. - La Serenata: This romantic tradition involves the groom serenading the bride beneath her window on the eve of the wedding, accompanied by musicians. It’s a symbolic gesture of his love and devotion. - The Tarantella Dance: A lively traditional folk dance often performed at Southern Italian weddings. It's a great way to get guests involved in the celebration and bring a touch of local culture to the festivities. 3. Local Cuisine for a True Italian Wedding Feast Food is a central part of any Italian celebration, and a Southern Italian wedding is no exception. Incorporating local flavors into your wedding menu will give guests an authentic taste of the region. - Appetizers (Antipasti): Start with a spread of fresh seafood, cured meats like prosciutto and salami, local cheeses, and bruschetta topped with fresh tomatoes, basil, and olive oil. - Main Course: Depending on the region, you could serve traditional dishes such as orecchiette pasta with broccoli rabe (from Puglia) or risotto with seafood (popular along the coast). - Dessert: Finish with a classic Southern Italian dessert like cannoli (Sicilian pastries filled with ricotta cheese), or a delizia al limone, a lemon-flavored dessert from the Amalfi Coast. - Wedding Cake: In Southern Italy, the wedding cake is often a multi-tiered creation decorated with fresh fruits, flowers, and sometimes even olive branches to represent prosperity and fertility. 4. Planning Your Wedding Day Timeline Southern Italian weddings typically follow a relaxed, but festive, pace. Here's a suggested timeline: - Ceremony: In Italy, it's common for wedding ceremonies to take place in the late afternoon, around 4 or 5 p.m., especially during the summer months. This avoids the midday heat and allows the couple to take advantage of the golden hour for photos. - Aperitivo Hour: After the ceremony, guests are invited to enjoy an aperitivo — an Italian pre-dinner drink, typically accompanied by light snacks. This is a great opportunity for guests to mingle while the couple takes post-ceremony photos. - Dinner: The wedding feast usually begins around 7 or 8 p.m., with several courses served over a few hours. Dinner is an integral part of the wedding celebration, and it's common for it to stretch late into the evening. - Dancing and Entertainment: Once dinner wraps up, the party begins. Many Italian weddings include live music, whether it’s a traditional folk band or a DJ. Don’t forget to include a few rounds of the Tarantella dance to get everyone on their feet. 5. Hiring a Local Wedding Planner One of the most important steps in planning a destination wedding in Southern Italy is hiring a local wedding planner. They can help navigate the complexities of legal requirements, vendor selection, and cultural nuances. A local planner can also offer insider knowledge on the best venues, caterers, florists, and photographers. - Why Hire a Local Planner?: A local planner understands the language, culture, and local vendors, which will make the planning process smoother. They can also help with any necessary paperwork or legal formalities required for foreign couples to marry in Italy. - Cost Considerations: While Southern Italy is generally more affordable than the northern regions, a planner will help you manage your budget efficiently by negotiating deals with local vendors and ensuring all details are accounted for. 6. Timing and Seasons for Weddings in Southern Italy Choosing the right time for your wedding is key to making the most of Southern Italy's natural beauty. - Best Months: May, June, September, and October are the most popular months for weddings due to the mild weather and stunning natural scenery. Summers can be quite hot, especially in inland regions, while winters can be chilly, but still beautiful for indoor celebrations. - Seasonal Considerations: If you're planning an outdoor wedding, consider the availability of shade or indoor options, especially during the hottest months. Spring and early autumn offer the perfect balance between pleasant weather and fewer tourists. Conclusion A wedding in Southern Italy combines romance, history, and breathtaking scenery to create a magical celebration. Whether you're looking for a seaside ceremony on the Amalfi Coast, a rustic countryside wedding in Puglia, or a grand celebration in a Sicilian villa, the options are endless. With careful planning and attention to Italian traditions, you can create the wedding of your dreams in one of the most beautiful parts of the world. Read the full article