“There’s always a crisis, Mom. I wouldn’t care except you dragged me on this stupid trip and swore you weren’t going to work. It’s not just me either. This is Nonni’s trip. How much time have you spent with her, huh?”

She flinched, but I didn’t want to get into it now. Not on the boat surrounded by people. I moved away and spent the rest of the trip talking to Hana and Kai. When we reached the marina, we transferred to a small bus that would take us to the top of the mountain in Anacapri. I tapped Nonni on the shoulder. “I’m going to sit with Ian.”

“Okay, sweetheart.” Her eyes danced. “Have fun.”

I shot her a warning look and went toward the back, where Ian was waiting for me. His parents sat in front of us and Rosemary swiveled around to hand him a paper bag. “Use this if you’re sick. Oh, I have mints! They help with nausea. Just close your eyes and think of a happy place,” she counseled, her face worried.

Ian groaned. “Really, Mom? I don’t have a happy place. I’m not two. And I’ll be fine.”

Patrick shook his head. “Rose, give him a break. Nothing’s going to happen—they do this tour a hundred times a day and I’ve never heard a news report of losing a tourist. Allegra will distract him.”

I smiled at his dad, loving his thick Irish brogue. “We got this.”

Enzo stood at the front of the bus with a broad grin. “Okay, we are headed up Monte Solaro to the top. You will have the option of doing the chairlift when we get there, and have lunch on your own. There are many beautiful shops and cafés, and you will have plenty of time to explore. In order to get there, we will be using the Mamma Mia road. Does anyone know why it’s called that?”

“Because we can’t use any curse words?” Ray shouted out.

Enzo laughed. “Correct. There are no guardrails, and the road is very narrow, so most people shout out, ‘Mamma mia!’—the ultimate curse in Italian. If you are brave enough to look, it is a beautiful sight to behold, but if you are nervous, just remember I’ve never lost a tourist.”

“Told you,” Patrick said.

Ian groaned. “I hope you have a plan for talking me off this literal cliff,” he said.

“Hey, that was clever.”

“Thanks.”

His smile was weak, but it was still there. The bus lurched forward, and then we shot off into the road and began the drive. “Tell me about Ireland,” I prompted, both from curiosity and to keep him talking. “Where do you live?”

He looked past me through the window as if anticipating the worst. “In Kildare.”