“What is it?” I ask bluntly, as I too tense, alerted, sensing something is off. He sighs heavily, as though he’s just been busted, and stiffens all over.  

“I had a message on my phone when I woke up.” He sighs again. “We might need to cut this trip short, dolcezza.” He lets go of me and slides out of bed, reaching for his jeans and pulling them on before sitting back beside me. As he takes my hand, I can see his face in the moonlight coming in the uncovered portholes. ...