chapter 13 #2
She leaned forward until the moonlight revealed his face. “Doesn’t it do the same for you?”
He reached over to pour himself more limoncello spritz from the pitcher Sloane had made, then turned his chair slightly to
look out at the scene she’d been taking in. “I guess it does.”
“Italy’s magical,” Charlotte agreed. “I feel it, too.”
“If we can’t sort out our lives in a place like this, we’re hopeless,” Sloane said jokingly.
“The next few weeks probably won’t be easy—but they will certainly be better because we’re here. And because we’re together,”
Charlotte added.
Sloane held up her glass. “To a month in Italy!”
“To a month in Italy!” they both said in unison and leaned forward to clink their glasses against her own.
Charlotte couldn’t sleep even after Julian and Sloane called it a night. She went to her room at the same time they did, but
after about thirty minutes of tossing and turning, she sat up, grabbed her phone from the nightstand and opened her Instagram
app. She’d been avoiding social media since Cliff kicked her out, but she’d been so active since her first book was published
that she knew her prolonged silence had to seem strange to her followers. She needed to tell them something. She was flooded with direct messages from fans who were worried about her.
OMG! Are you and Clifford breaking up? Tell me it isn’t so.
I cried all day. You and Cliff are perfect for each other. Don’t let anything happen to your marriage!
This can’t happen to today’s Barbie and Ken! But whatever’s going on, please know that he was lucky to have you.
You’re just as pretty as that model he’s with now. Prick!
There were also a lot of mean messages, people who were eager to celebrate her fall from grace. She didn’t understand trolls.
Maybe seeing her suffer made them feel better about their own lives. Getting dumped made her human—knocked her off the pedestal
some people had put her on—and there were as many gloating about her downfall as mourning it.
She winced as she read some of the comments that said she should “eat shit and die,” that she was never good enough for Cliff
to begin with, that she was a gold digger or that now she must finally realize she was no better than anyone else. Hurtful
comments always seemed to carry the most weight. But she felt a responsibility to the many people who were being kind—or trying
to be.
What could she say to them? She didn’t want to reveal that she’d just learned she’d been adopted and discovered that she had a half sister.
She wouldn’t have wanted to reveal the news about her divorce, either, but it was already out there.
It was time to make a public statement. But she had to be careful how she went about it.
She couldn’t risk coming off as disingenuous, flippant or angry.
She cared about her readers, but she needed them, too—now more than ever.
If they didn’t continue to follow her and buy her next book, she’d soon be out of a job even if she managed to get a new manuscript completed.
She’d always known the second contract was the one that could finally pay well.
Signing a new author was so speculative, a publisher couldn’t offer as much as they could to someone who had a good track record.
But to get that next contract, she had to stay relevant and connected on social media, and that meant keeping the content going on Insta, which was her main platform, so readers wouldn’t forget her—wouldn’t drift away and start spending their time and money on someone else.
Sorry I went AWOL. First, my mother was ill. Then I had to rush to get ready for a trip to Italy to meet some of my family.
But I wanted to let you all know that I’m fine. You’ve probably heard Cliff and I have split up. Sadly, we grew apart and
had different goals in the end. But it was a mutual decision, one made very amicably. We plan to remain friends and continue
to support each other in the coming years, so please be kind to us both as we navigate these tricky waters. Transitioning
back to single life won’t be easy, but I can’t think of a better place to do it than on the Amalfi Coast, where I’m hard at
work on my next book. I can’t wait to see what you think of it!
She knew from the many celebrities who’d gone through high-profile divorces that pretending all was friendly and fine would
at least put out some of the speculation fires burning on the internet. And while she didn’t have an expensive publicity firm like most of those
people, she could copy their approach. She couldn’t see how remaining generous and positive could get her into trouble.
She called up the pictures Julian had taken earlier—he’d sent her and Sloane a few when they’d asked about them at dinner—and picked a shot of the Amalfi Coast that showed a small fortress-like ruin that had once been a watchtower.
He’d told them there were about thirty of these round stone buildings—most falling apart to some extent because they were so ancient—strung along the coast from Vietri sul Mare to Positano.
They’d once been used as lookouts to warn the local villagers of the approach of Saracen pirates, he’d said, who, according to the internet, first arrived in Southern Italy in AD 711.
That small, resolute, unyielding tower seemed symbolic—perfect for her post—which was why she chose it over a beautiful shot
of Positano, visible down the coast, and the Mediterranean Sea. She should’ve run away the first time Clifford showed interest
in her, should’ve protected her heart. Her parents had tried to warn her of the difficulties she’d face by getting involved
with someone who was so famous. And they’d been right. All he’d done was pillage her heart and then burn it to the ground
simply because he could.
After posting what she’d written, along with Julian’s photograph—he’d made it clear he had no intention of using it commercially,
which made it fair game—she put her phone back on the nightstand, scooted down in bed and punched her pillow, hoping she could
finally get some sleep. Her meeting with Luca in the morning would come all too soon.
But fifteen minutes later, she found herself getting up again, this time to retrieve her computer. She’d thought she was done
with basketball, had found it ridiculous that Cliff would even ask if she’d seen his last game. But it was the playoffs, and
she’d spent the past several years making him the center of her universe, had grown accustomed to caring about what he cared
about, which was basketball. So she suddenly felt left out, as if the party was still going strong without her and no one
even cared that she was no longer there.
As she put on the game, her heart ached when she saw Cliff.
There’d been so many challenges to being married to him, not the least of which were his extreme highs and lows and the way he constantly swung between them.
Their experience wasn’t like that of most young couples, that was for sure.
But she’d seen and done so many wonderful things she would not have done without him.
And no one was more fun to be with—when he was happy, anyway.
She’d meant only to catch a few minutes, just enough to get another glimpse of her soon-to-be ex-husband in his element, where
he did such incredible things—but two hours later, she’d watched the entire game, including the interview afterward, during
which tears dripped off her chin as Cliff talked about his performance and smiled proudly for the cameras, seemingly as happy
as ever.
Sloane woke up to a message from Ben.
How’d you like the limoncello spritz? (I’d make that plural, but I’m not sure how.) ??
She sent him a reply for when he got up in the morning saying she’d enjoyed it, that they needed to come to the Amalfi Coast
together sometime and wishing him a good day at work. Then she set her phone aside and got up. Julian had suggested they go
sightseeing this afternoon. She wanted to have coffee with him, get online and research their options.
When she came downstairs, the house was quiet. Charlotte and Lilly didn’t seem to be up yet, but she found her brother sitting
on the deck, the umbrella on the dining table once again expanded to block the sun while he read a book called A Walk in the Park by Kevin Fedarko.
“Morning,” she murmured.
He lowered his book as she came toward him. “Morning.”
She laid a hand on the back of the chair facing him, but didn’t sit down. “You sleep okay?”
“I did. You?”
He didn’t look as well rested as he normally did, but she passed that off as jet lag. “Pretty good.” She gestured at the house.
“You didn’t make any coffee? Should I put some on?”
“I thought it’d be fun to find a shop. We could grab a pastry, too, and look around while we’re at it.”
She liked the prospect of strolling through the tiny cliffside town in the mellow weather, enjoying a doughnut with an iced
coffee. “Now, there’s an idea,” she said. “What about Charlotte and Lilly?”
“We could wait a little longer for them to get up, or we could text Charlotte to let her know where to find us. She could
bring Lilly and come later.”
“Except if she sleeps much longer, she might not have time to meet us before her appointment with Luca. Actually, we should
be back here by then so she won’t have to leave Lilly alone when she goes.” Lilly was old enough to be left on her own for
a couple of hours, but given the girl’s unique situation, Sloane knew today wouldn’t be the best time for something like that.
“You promised we’d take her to the beach in Positano, remember?”
“Good point.” He stood and stretched. “We’d better get going.”
“Let me grab my purse.” Sloane hurried back to her room to get her phone and sunglasses, too, and found a text from Ben:
They sell limoncello here in the States. I’ll get some and make a spritz in your honor.
Feeling terrible for being in Italy without him, especially because he didn’t seem to be sleeping well and still had to work, she shoved her phone in her purse before hurrying out to meet Julian, who was waiting for her at the arched iron gate leading off the property.
But it was only fifteen minutes later when she was tempted to text Ben about the lemon-cream-filled croissants she’d found.
They had to be the best pastries she’d ever tried.
It was so hard not to be able to share everything with him.
“How’s Ben since we’ve been gone?” Julian asked when she took out her phone.
“Good,” she muttered and quickly put her phone back in her purse and changed the subject. She didn’t want to talk to him about
her marriage again. It just made her feel guilty, and she already felt guilty enough.