Chapter 09 #2
She squeezes me back, tilting her head up to look at me. “I should be the one thanking you... for being such incredible kids.”
She extends her other arm toward Alicia, who comes to sit on the opposite arm of the chair, wrapping herself around Mom too.
“You just didn’t have to call me Buttercup in front of everyone,” Alicia grumbles.
But we both know she’s pretending to be annoyed. I could tell by the way she hugged me the second I stepped off the stage, whispering, “I love you, Ethan. So much.” Her face buried in my chest, voice shaky, arms tight around me.
Yeah. She loved it.
“Well...” Uncle Mark says, pressing a hand to his chest. “Seeing you three like this almost makes me want to settle down and find a family of my own.”
Alicia giggles. “I think Ethan’s going to get married before you, Uncle Mark.”
“Nope,” I say, standing up and kissing Mom’s cheek before heading back to the couch for another piece of quiche. “I don’t even know if I’ll get married at all—but if I do, it definitely won’t be until way after I’m thirty. Like... way after.”
Uncle Mark claps his hands together like he’s shutting down a dangerous idea. “Okay! Enough marriage talk. It might be contagious.”
Mom laughs, shaking her head.
“So,” he continues, leaning forward, “I want updates on this trip you’re planning.”
I can’t help smiling. Mom surprised us with a three-week travel itinerary through Central and South America. Alicia and I were over the moon. The idea of three weeks away, just the three of us, feels like hitting a reset button on everything.
When I mentioned the trip to Dalila, she made me promise I wouldn’t get with anyone while I was traveling. I promised without even thinking about it. We might not be officially dating, but I’m not the kind of guy who goes around kissing more than one girl at a time.
“Everything’s already set,” Mom says. “We just have to pack, and on Tuesday we leave for Panama City.”
“I’m not gonna lie—I’m dying of jealousy,” Uncle Mark says, sounding disappointed. “But duty calls. I’ll be in New Jersey for a month helping a friend with his business.”
Mom reaches out and squeezes his hand. “Next time, we’ll plan something when you’re free.”
“For sure. I need to renew my tan, this city makes me too pale.”
They keep talking, but a ping from my phone pulls my attention.
I catch myself grinning like an idiot when I see Dalila’s text: Are you up?
I reply yeah and tell her to give me a minute.
I tell everyone I’m heading to my room, kiss each of them, and go upstairs. At the top of the stairs, another message comes through. A selfie. I open it.
Dalila’s lying on her bed, hair spread around her like a halo, wearing the same white dress she had under her graduation gown. I try not to notice the way the neckline dips or how her curves look more gorgeous from the angle she chose.
I fail.
But then I look at her face, her shy smile, the one that only ever appears when she’s talking to me. And I feel something changing in me.
Smiling, I push open my bedroom door and type back:
Me: I’m all yours now.
Alexander
I silence the alarm the second it starts ringing and sit up in bed.
5:30 a.m.
Which means it’s eleven twenty at night in New York. I glance toward the window, the first thin line of morning easing into the sky.
I didn’t stop thinking about Cecilia yesterday, nothing unusual in that, but I kept replaying the sound of her voice from the moment she answered my call and wondering how things went.
Before I can rethink it, my thumbs are already moving.
Me: I hope everything went well at the graduation.
I set the phone on the nightstand and push myself up with a sigh, dragging a hand over my face. She’s probably asleep by now... or busy celebrating with the kids... Or with the kids—and that coglione[XXVIII].
My jaw tightens involuntarily. Just the thought of him near her twists a tight knot in my chest.
I’m halfway to the bathroom when I hear my phone vibrate. Moving faster than my half-asleep body wants to, I take it from the nightstand.
Cecilia: Everything went well, we just got home not long ago. It was a beautiful ceremony. What are you doing awake so early on a Saturday?
A heat spreads through my chest, pulling a smile from me in the way only she can.
I think for a moment, then type quickly.
Me: Can I call you?
She sees the message but doesn’t reply. I don’t have to wait long; my phone vibrates in my hand with her incoming call.
“Ciao, bella[XXIX].”
“Ciao.” There’s a faint sound of a door closing on her end before her voice comes through more clearly. “You still haven’t told me why you’re awake at this hour. It’s already Saturday morning for you, isn’t it?”
“Yes... almost six,” I answer, glancing at the sky. “The weather will be good today. I want to take advantage of it and go fishing for a bit.”
“Oh, I forgot about that fisherman side of yours,” Cecilia laughs.
I grin and walk toward the floor-to-ceiling window, looking out over the slope that separates my house from my family’s villa farther down the hill. Terracotta roofs and olive trees catching the early light, creating one of my favorite landscapes.
“Tell me how the graduation went,” I say.
I hear her contented sigh that hits me in the chest every damn time.
“It was a memorable day,” she begins, her voice tinged with pride and emotion. “Ethan gave such a beautiful speech, Alexander... Of course I cried. I knew it would happen, maybe when he got the diploma. There was no way to hold back the tears.”
She ends with a laugh, and I find myself smiling.
“You recorded it?” I ask. “If you want to show me later, just send it.”
“Yes, yes. I hired someone to photograph and film everything, but Colin recorded it too, so I can send it to you.”
My jaw tightens the second his name crosses her lips, a reflex I’m not proud of, but don’t bother fighting anymore.
“Of course,” I say, keeping my tone casual. “I’d love to see it.”
I make myself breathe calmly. I ask her for more details.
Her voice is soothing, and I cling to that, not letting my mind wander into the places it wants to go.
Places where she’s sitting beside him. Where he’s close enough to touch her.
Where he might have put an arm around her when she cried.
Held her hand. Stayed glued to her side the whole time.
Cazzo[XXX].
We talk for about twenty minutes. She tells me more about the ceremony, and afterward, about the trip she’s taking with the kids. And I listen to every word.
Eventually, we say goodbye. I promise to send her videos of Marina di Pisa once I get there with Sam, and she gives a light laugh before hanging up.
It’s with her laugh still echoing in my mind that I get ready and head downstairs. Sam is waiting at the bottom of the staircase, tail wagging. I kneel and rub his head, my fingers sinking into his fur.
“Ah, ragazzo[XXXI]...” I murmur. “I’m getting too old to be falling in love and feeling jealous like an idiot over a woman who only sees me as a friend.”
Sam barks once, as if he’s correcting me. I let out a laugh and push myself to my feet.
“Come on,” I tell him. “There’s nothing the sea can’t heal... or at least help you forget.”
I smile as I look at the picture Cecilia sent me hours ago, right after we ended our call.
She’s wearing a long, loose white sundress, thin straps, red hair, loose and untamed over her shoulders, her body turned slightly to the side.
.. and she’s smiling. Smiling as she looks up toward a balcony overflowing with flower pots, colors spilling over the railings like something out of a painting.
The entire street is framed by colorful houses standing shoulder to shoulder, vines blooming across their facades. Calle de las Flores, that’s what she told me it was called.
They’re currently in Colombia, the second-to-last stop of their trip. We haven’t spoken as much in the past couple of weeks; she’s been soaking up every moment with her kids. That makes me happy for her. And for them too.
We’ve exchanged plenty of texts. Enough to keep our thread pulled tight, no matter the distance.
I’ve gotten photos and videos from Panama, Costa Rica, and now Colombia, vivid pieces of her days that she sends like she knows I’ll treat them as something precious. Like she knows I’ll look at every image more times than I should.
They’ll be on their way to Mexico soon—Tulum, she said—before finally heading back home.
I can’t stop staring at the way she’s smiling.
How is it that a single picture of her can undo me more than anything else in my life ever has?
I tap the phone on my desk and speak into it.
“Amara, could you come into my office for a moment, please?”
She steps in a minute later, and takes the seat across from me, waiting for instructions.
“I need you to reorganize my schedule for next month and transfer all of my commitments to Cesare and Genaro.”
She doesn’t even blink, tablet already in hand, stylus moving in quick, precise strokes.
Amara has been with the company for over fifteen years.
She started in Marketing, but when my former assistant chose not to return after maternity leave, I spoke with her director myself and promoted her. One of the best decisions I’ve made.
“The entire month of July?” she asks, lifting her eyes to confirm.
“Yes. The entire month,” I reply, allowing the corner of my mouth to lift in a small smile.
“Also inform the New York headquarters that I’ll be working from there during that period. And let Henry know I’ll be available to cover some of his commitments when needed.”
She continues typing, efficient, taking in every detail without hesitation. After a moment, she looks up.
“Anything else?”
“That’s all for now, thank you,” I say with a nod.
She rises smoothly, professional as ever, and excuses herself with a simple “Of course,” closing the door behind her.
I pick up my phone again.
This time, it’s a photo of her, standing in front of a large colonial house, smiling straight at the camera. Bellissima[XXXII].
My thumb drifts over Cecilia’s face before I even realize I’m doing it.
“One month in New York,” I murmur under my breath.