Halfway to You(76)

“‘Set on Rome’?”

“Would you ever want to settle down?”

“I’ve been living in Rome for the better part of nine years, I am settled.”

“I mean here.”

The prospect strangled me. “Settle in Colorado.”

“Is that a no?” When I didn’t answer, he said, “I’m asking you to move in with me—here.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “I want you to live with me.”

For a moment, his words brought relief—but it didn’t last. This was the conversation I’d thought I was ready to have, before our trip to Mohonk changed everything. Deep inside my cavernous heart, a nocturnal, instinctual part of me was thinking, The distance is safe. While I despised being away from him, the distance grew longing. Without distance, would Todd still long for me? Because every time I was fully present—Venice, Greece, New York—Todd gave me a reason to pull back.

Besides, I was happy here—Rome was not an insignificant thing to give up. I had my apartment, my markets, my neighborhood. I had Carmella and the cats I fed on the stoop. I had earned my international teaching certification and hadn’t even put it to use yet.

I loved Todd, but could I really give up my life here for him?

I sagged forward, my shoulders crumpling toward my knees. “I would love to live with you,” I said, “but I can’t see myself in Colorado. Never again.”

“Why not?”

There were too many ghosts in Colorado, too many bad memories. I had traveled a long time to find a sense of safety, comfort, and belonging—I couldn’t give that up.

“Italy is home,” I said simply. “It’s the only place I’ve felt at home.”

“What about with me?”

The way he threw that in my face made me blanch. It wasn’t a fair question. “That’s not what I meant,” I said. “I love you. Why can’t you move here?”

“I have a business,” Todd said. “A house.”

“You’re saying I don’t have a life here?”

“I’m saying that I have roots.”

“Roots you wouldn’t want to give up for me?”

“That’s not fair.”

“But it’s fair to ask the same of me? To assume that I don’t have roots in Italy?”

“You’ve never had roots, Ann,” Todd said, so quietly I wondered for a moment if I was imagining his venomous words. But then he continued. “I’m asking you to finally plant yourself—with me.”

“Is that how you see me?” I cleared my throat, willing it steady. “Just gallivanting overseas, not a care in the world?”

“I know you like it there, but what have you built for yourself in Italy, truly? A tiny apartment, a couple restaurant friends. That isn’t a community, that’s a long holiday. You’re a tourist.” His tone was gentle, but only because he knew how the words would strike.

My cheeks blazed hot. “That isn’t true.”

“Not all of us have the privilege of endless funds to wander the world in search of purpose. Those of us in the real world don’t have that luxury. In the real world, we have to build our lives from the ground up.”

“You’re blaming my money?” I asked. “I thought you knew me better—”

“I don’t want to argue.”

“Then why are you criticizing my happiness?”

“Are you happy, though? I’ve seen your apartment.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’re half-packed, Ann. Sure, you have knickknacks on your bookshelves and food on the counter, but it’s sparse. It looks like you could leave at any moment.”

I surveyed my clean desk, my half-empty bookshelves, a single used mug on my kitchen counter. Was he right? Was living in Rome its own form of running? The uncluttered nature of my apartment didn’t seem intentional one way or the other. “I live simply,” I mumbled.

“No, you live such that you can run. That’s not permanent.”

I raised my voice, enunciating every word. “I’ve lived in Italy almost nine years. How is that impermanent?” I heaved a breath. “I love you, Todd, but I also love my life here. Can’t you see how unfair it is to make me choose?”

“What’s the real issue, Ann? A few months ago, you would’ve come—I’m sure of it.”

Like the filament in a lightbulb, something inside me snapped. And somehow, in the dimness and without the glare, I suddenly saw so much clearer.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were married to Penny?” I asked.

“What?” It came out as a strangled cough.

“Penny,” I said tightly. “Your wife was Keith’s sister, and you never fucking told me.”

His stilted voice exposed his surprise. “Where’s this coming from?”

“Tracey,” I said. “Natalie. Keith. They all thought I knew. You never told me.”

He didn’t respond.

“How long have we known each other, Todd?” I went on. “How many opportunities did you have to tell me the entire truth? You left out such a massive detail. How could you keep that from me? Why did you keep that from me?”