The Star-Crossed Sisters of Tuscany(66)

I stand in the tiny attic space, biting my knuckle to keep from crying out. How could he sleep with me, whisper sexy thoughts into my ear, then act today as if I’m nothing more than another guest at the inn? Because I’m cursed, that’s why.

I check the time. In ten minutes, Gabe will be taking us to the train station. How will I endure the thirty-minute ride? Without warning, a sob charges from my chest. My knees buckle and I slide to the floor, clutching my ribs. I wanted love. I pretended not to, but I did. I wanted it so badly.

If only I could talk to Matt. He’d call Gabe a stupid piece of shit. He’d make me feel lovable again. But of course I can’t call Matt.

I manage to pull myself upright. I blow my nose and dry my eyes. I have to be strong. For Poppy.

I drag my bag down the stairs and poke my head into Aunt Poppy’s room. I work my face into a smile. We’re about to embark on the most anticipated part of this journey, and I will not spoil it for her.

“Hey, soon-to-be birthday girl. Can I get your bag?”

She sits on the edge of her bed, clutching a box of tissues. Lucy helped her bathe and dress this morning. She’s wearing black slacks and a bulky red sweater. The turquoise beads around her neck look heavy enough to topple her. Even her wig looks too big. As if to keep it from slipping off her head, she’s created a headband with a turquoise scarf. My self-pity momentarily vanishes. I lower myself beside her and adjust the scarf on her forehead.

“Are you feeling well enough to travel?”

“Of course,” she says, always the warrior. But her voice is even more gravelly than yesterday, and absent all enthusiasm.

Today’s travel will be especially tiring, a three-and-a-half-hour train ride to Naples, followed by a two-hour bus ride to Ravello.

“Aunt Poppy, you need to see a doctor.”

She pulls a tissue from the box and rises. “Rico is waiting. We must go.”

I shake my head, and lead her to the SUV. Though I dreaded the thought of sitting beside Gabe on the way to the train station, I feel cheated when I see Sofia holding the keys.

“Set your bag right there,” she tells me. “I will get it.”

“You . . . you’re taking us to the station?”

“Sì.” She gives me a doleful smile. “I am sorry, Emilia. My brother is a generous hello man. He is stingy when it comes to good-byes.”



* * *





I stare out the backseat window, half listening as Sofia and Lucy chatter in the front seat.

“I live my life, day after day, not worried about what others think of me,” Sofia tells Lucy. “Do you not do the same?”

“No,” Lucy says. “Not since I was eight. But starting now, I do.”

I’m so proud of my cousin, and I’d tell her, if I trusted my voice. I turn to the window. Trespiano, and my dream of Gabriele, disappear along with the countryside. My eyes sting and I blink back tears. Today, my heart breaks. Tomorrow, it will be my aunt’s. What is it with love, anyway? Lucy was right: I never wanted to be in the game. I was fine, living my life as a single woman. I finally step onto the field, and—bam!—I’m knocked unconscious by a curveball. Never have I felt so rejected, so humiliated and lonely and empty. Who needs this kind of pain?

As my mind rationalizes a life without love, my heart remembers how magical it was, lying in Gabe’s arms, how alive, how fully connected I felt, like the world around me—the one I’d never felt quite comfortable in—had welcomed me at last.

Traffic picks up when we reach the outskirts of Florence—the place where, just last night, I stood in Gabe’s arms, as happy as I’d ever felt. Was none of that real? I think of Lucy. I was completely unsympathetic about her love life. I felt so superior, convinced she should have been able to see these guys for what they were—players. But the truth is, they were no different from Gabe. And I’m no different from Lucy.

Sometimes it’s our mind we ignore when we think we could make someone love us.

I turn when Poppy’s chilly fingers intertwine with mine.

“You will find, Emilia, life is not always a circle. More often, it’s a tangled knot of detours and dead ends, false starts and broken hearts. An exasperating, dizzying maze, impossible to navigate and useless to map.” She squeezes my hand. “But not a single corner nor curve should ever, ever be missed.”

Her eyes are soft and she hands me a tissue. Somehow she knows. She pats the space beside her and I slide over. It should be me, comforting her. I know this. But still, I can’t resist. I lay my head on her shoulder and she strokes my hair.

“I am proud of you, Emilia.”

“Proud? I was made a fool.”

“Nonsense. You left the fool behind.”

I study her face, wondering who she’s talking about: Gabriele or the old me.

“You have finally experienced love.” She leans in and whispers, “Even if it was with a no-good, dirty dog.”

“What? You knew Gabriele was a dog?” I glance at Sofia. Luckily, she and Lucy are busy talking. “Why didn’t you warn me?” I whisper. “You let me go off with him yesterday! Do you realize that we . . . ?” My voice trails off.

“Of course I do. It was high time you experienced some passion. And a dirty dog like Gabriele knows a lot of tricks.” She winks at me.