The Star-Crossed Sisters of Tuscany(70)

“Go to hell, Em.”

My hand shakes when I open the car door. My heart beats a wild and erratic rhythm. I step out and round the car until I reach Daria. I look into the eyes of the person I love more than anyone else in the world.

“No.” My mouth twitches and my chin trembles, but my words are steady and strong. “I am not going to hell. I’m going to Ravello.”

Daria’s eyes bore into mine. Perhaps she’s hoping I’ll burst out laughing and tell her it’s all a joke. And I almost wish I could. Almost.

I muscle past her and slide in behind the wheel.

“Don’t do this, Emmie,” she says as I close the door.

I start the engine. My stomach drops. I slide the gearshift into drive.

“Stop. You’re making a huge mistake.”

Ever so gently, I press my foot on the accelerator. The car inches forward. I watch, feeling sick and petrified and oddly detached, as my sister disappears from my rearview mirror.



* * *





I get as far as the next terminal before I pull over. I drop my head onto the steering wheel. My knees quake. What the hell have I done? From the backseat, I hear clapping. I look over my shoulder.

“Brava! Brava, my pollia berry.” Poppy reaches out and clasps my shoulder. “You are shining right now. You are positively shining.”

I blink back tears, unable to speak.

Lucy chuckles. “Looks like ol’ Emmie has grown a pair of balls.” She raises her palm to me. “Way to show that bitch who’s in control.”

I give her a halfhearted high five, though it feels treasonous to celebrate. Daria is my sister. I love her. Unconditionally. But for the life of me, I cannot defend her today.

Lucy climbs over the seat back and lands in a heap beside me. She straightens her shirt and turns to me.

“So, you were joking about not being able to drive, right?”





Chapter 34




Emilia

I’m telling Lucy about the bargain I struck after Liam’s accident, when an airport security guard knocks on the car window. “Partite!” he says. “Go!”

“Shit.” My breath catches and I give him a little wave.

“So everything you told Daria was bullshit?” Lucy’s propped against the passenger door, facing me. “Tell me, Em, do you believe in the curse or not?”

“I honestly don’t know, Luce.” I rub my temples, realizing how screwed up I must sound. “And I don’t want to push our luck.”

“I don’t get it. I mean, sure, you freaked out after that accident and promised never to see Liam. But what the hell does driving have to do with the curse?”

“You just met Sofie. You’re happy, right?”

“Um, like, for the first time in forever.”

“And that’s exactly when it happens. Now, just to prove its power, the curse will strike. That’s when we get in an accident, and you’re hurt or disfigured or . . .”

“Dead? Is that what you’re afraid of? That you’ll kill me?”

“Yes . . . no . . . I’m afraid my curse will kill you. Just like it almost killed Liam.” I take a deep breath. “I would never forgive myself if I were the cause of—”

Lucy throws up her hands. “Oh, get over yourself, Em. I’m telling you in advance, before I’m brain-dead or missing a nose or nothing but an urn of ashes, I forgive you.”

We lock eyes for a moment, two once-cursed daughters, testing our fate.

“Let go, Emilia.” We turn to the backseat. Has Poppy been listening the whole time?

“Let go,” she repeats, the two words packed with hope and possibility and danger. Let go of fear. Let go of guilt. Let go of false beliefs.

Outside, the airport guard marches up to our car. He blows his whistle and jabs his finger. “Partite!”

My stomach pitches and I lift a finger. “Okay,” I mouth to him. I look away. “Damn!”

I take a deep breath. Very slowly, and with the greatest trepidation, I press down on the accelerator. And let go.



* * *





An hour and a half later, I finally loosen my grip on the steering wheel. From the backseat, Poppy softly snores. I rock my neck, trying to work out the kink, and catch sight of the GPS. “Wait . . . we’ve only traveled eighty-three kilometers?”

“Uh, yeah, about that,” Lucy says. “According to my calculations, we should make it to Ravello in plenty of time for Poppy’s birthday. Her ninety-seventh birthday.”

“We need to get there safely.” I stare at the road. “Will you text Dar for me? My phone’s in my purse. Tell her I’m—” The word “sorry” sticks in my throat. What was that favor Poppy once asked of me? Stop apologizing when you’re not sorry. “Tell her safe travels. And that I’ll see her in three days.”

“Here’s hoping,” Lucy mumbles as she types the text. “I’ll tell her you finally had an orgasm.” She looks up at me. “If you die now, at least you’ve got that, right?”

I try to smile, but it’s still too raw. Was it just yesterday that I was falling in love? For a brief moment, I was an “us.” I blink quickly. I can’t be sad, not now, not when Lucy’s ecstatic and Poppy’s filled with hope. With all my will, I block out the sound of Gabriele’s voice, forget the feel of his skin against mine. And then, I tuck the memories away in some secret corner of my heart, to be opened later.