CHAPTER 115: GO HOME

Morning arrived slowly.

Golden light spilled across the villa’s stone floors, filtering through gauzy curtains that fluttered in the sea breeze. The air was soft and cool, carrying the faint scent of salt and lemons through the open windows. Outside, the Amalfi Coast was beginning to stir—birds chirping, the faint hum of boats already cutting through the water far below.

Inside, everything was still.

Ella blinked awake to the gentle sensation of fingers combing through her hair. She didn’t open her eyes right away. She didn’t need to. The warmth at her back, the steady rhythm of the chest she lay against, the low, familiar hum of breath near her ear—it was all Nicholas.

He’d held her through the night, never shifting far. And now he was awake, content just to touch her.

"Morning," she murmured, voice scratchy with sleep.

Nicholas’s fingers stilled. Then resumed, slower. "Good morning, baby."

She stretched a little, her toes brushing his ankles under the covers, and let out a satisfied sigh. "What time is it?"

"Just after seven." A pause. "We’ve got a few hours before we have to leave."

Ella opened her eyes then, reluctantly. The realization settled over her like a light pressure—vacation was ending. Reality would be waiting for them when they got home. And yet, the thought didn’t feel heavy like it used to.

Not with him beside her.

"Can we stay in bed a little longer?" she asked, half teasing, half hopeful.

Nicholas’s arm tightened around her. "We can stay as long as you want. I’ll hold the jet if I have to."

She laughed softly, turning onto her back so she could see him. His hair was messy from sleep, a few strands falling over his forehead. His eyes were warm, a little sleepy, but brighter now in the morning sun.

"You’d really hold the jet?"

He leaned in and kissed the tip of her nose. "For you? Absolutely."

Ella smiled, then reached up and ran her fingers through his hair, brushing it away from his face. "You know, I’m not sure I want to go back."

His expression softened. "Because of what’s waiting, or because you’ve been happy here?"

She thought about it. "Both, maybe. It’s been quiet here. We haven’t had to think about anything except what to eat and how many times a day you can make me blush."

He smirked. "That’s been my favorite part."

"I figured."

Nicholas shifted closer, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear as his gaze grew more serious. "You can feel like this back home, too, you know. I’m not going to stop taking care of you just because we’re not in Italy."

She nodded, but her smile faded just slightly. "It’s not just that. It’s... everything else waiting for me. The city, people I’ve avoided. Conversations I don’t want to have."

He watched her for a moment. "You’re not alone in any of that."

"I know."

"You’re allowed to feel afraid," he said gently. "But you don’t have to carry it alone anymore. You don’t have to go back to being the version of yourself that only survived."

That hit something deep. She swallowed hard and looked down at their hands, now tangled between them.

"You always know what to say, don’t you?" she whispered.

"No," he said softly. "But I know what you need to hear."

A long silence passed between them, the kind that didn’t feel heavy or awkward—just full of unspoken things.

Then Ella shifted forward and pressed her lips to his chest. "Thank you," she said, her voice quiet but steady. "For everything. For letting me be soft. For not needing me to be anything else."

Nicholas held her tighter and kissed the top of her head. "You never had to earn that with me, Ella. You just had to let me see you."

She curled into him, resting her head beneath his chin. And for a while, they just stayed there—quiet, wrapped in warmth and sunlight, the sea whispering in the background.

Eventually, Nicholas rubbed her back and whispered, "I should probably get us moving if we’re going to make that flight."

She groaned. "Five more minutes."

"I’ve already given you twenty."

"I was asleep."

"And I was awake. Watching you drool."

She smacked his chest. "I did not drool."

He laughed, pulling the covers off both of them and rolling out of bed. "Come on, sleepy girl. Shower, coffee, one last look at that view—then we go."

Ella sat up slowly, stretching her arms over her head as the sheet fell to her waist. Nicholas paused mid-step to stare.

"What?" she asked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

He shook his head, lips quirking. "You’re not even trying to kill me, and yet..."

She flushed, grabbing a pillow and chucking it at him.

He caught it mid-air, grinning like a man who knew he’d won the lottery. "I’m showering first," he said, backing toward the bathroom. "Unless you want to join."

Ella raised an eyebrow. "You think I’m going to survive another round before an international flight?"

Nicholas shrugged with a wicked grin. "Worth a try."

She laughed as he disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of running water following moments later. Standing up, she crossed the room to the window and opened it wider.

The view was breathtaking.

Below, the sea stretched endlessly in shades of blue and gold. The cliffsides glowed under the rising sun, and distant bells rang from a village still wrapped in morning mist. Somewhere behind her, the scent of Nicholas’s skin still clung to the pillows. She pressed a hand to the window frame and breathed in.

There was a kind of peace in this goodbye.

Because this time, she wasn’t going back the same.

This time, she was taking a piece of the coast with her. A piece of this version of herself—quiet, trusting, cherished. And beside her, every step of the way, would be Nicholas.

When he emerged from the bathroom with damp hair and a towel slung around his hips, Ella turned to him and smiled.

"I’m ready," she said.

He stepped up behind her, kissed her bare shoulder, and whispered, "Good. Let’s go home."