31
W hen the next morning comes, I’m still shook.
The four of us are on the balcony for breakfast, although Mei is talking to a neighbor about restaurant recommendations, Dad is buried in his phone, and I’ve been texting Bianca, updating her on this whole mess (she is Team Caleb, of course).
“Excuse me, I have to take a call,” Dad says abruptly, heading inside.
I shoot him a curious look. “With who?”
“Uh ... it’s a work call,” he says quickly, avoiding eye contact. “It’s an emergency.”
Teller gives me a look that says That was weird .
I raise my brows as if to say See, I told you he’s acting off . Dad works long hours. He always has. But I can’t remember a time he had an urgent call. Something is fishy, but I don’t have the energy to investigate. There are more pressing matters at hand.
I let out a strained sigh, though I don’t realize how loud it is until Teller asks, “Did Caleb reach out yet?”
“Nope.” My stomach does a barrel roll and I’m sensing it’s not out of excitement. It’s anticipation, I think. I need to know why he left.
Teller nudges me in the shin under the table. “Why do you sound so blah about it? I figured you’d be over the moon. It’s that big grand gesture you always hoped for, isn’t it?” When I give a half-hearted shrug, he continues, “I mean, he came all the way to the Amalfi Coast for you. I’d say it even tops the airport grand gesture in Love, Actually . Or the boom box serenade in Say Anything . Though nothing beats the M&M Sorry pizza in The Princess Diaries .”
I think back to all those hours we’ve spent in the back row of the theater watching old movies, feet resting on the backs of the seats in the row ahead. Me sobbing into my popcorn, Teller rolling his eyes at the cheesiest parts. It instantly brings me back to myself. “I love that you’re an encyclopedia of grand gestures now.”
“Guess I’ve become an expert over the years,” Teller says.
“I’ve lost count of how many elaborate gestures we brainstormed.”
“Sometimes I think it’s because of you that I won Sophie over.”
I shake my head. “No way. You were the best boyfriend, Tel. Most you came up with all by yourself. Like when you drove up and surprised her with a hot-air balloon ride for your one-year anniversary.”
“Still. You were instrumental in the planning.”
“I’ll happily take credit,” I say.
We’re quiet again. Teller’s gaze is searching but gentle, if a little awkward after everything that’s happened. I think we both feel it. Still, he’s giving me the space to speak if I want to.
“Caleb coming here was really romantic,” I finally agree. When I hear myself say it, I realize there’s no emotion behind it. It’s like I’m saying a scientific fact. Teller is completely right—Caleb showing up in the most beautiful place on Earth is probably the grand gesture of all grand gestures. Add the whole fate-and-soulmate thing in and it’s a true love story for the books. A story for future generations to swoon over. “I should be over the moon, gushing and giddy like I was when we first arrived in Venice. So why aren’t I?”
“Maybe you’re still mad at him?” It’s a fair deduction. I was angry when he first left, and I should still be mad. I have every right to be. But when I was with him today, that emotion didn’t quite feel right. What I feel toward him isn’t anger or frustration—it’s something heavier.
Guilt. Not just about what happened with Teller in Tuscany, but about the feelings I have for him now. The feelings that just won’t go away no matter how hard I try to push them aside.
But I can’t admit any of this to Teller, so I just nod. “Yeah, I think I’m still probably a bit salty over the whole thing.”
Teller leans forward. “Understandable. But he did make the effort. That has to count for something.”
“It does. But what if he leaves again? What if he’s still not ready?” Or worse, what if I’m not ready?
“I think you should at least hear him out. I don’t think he’d have come for you if he wasn’t ready,” he assures me. His confidence burns a little. As grateful as I am for his support, it feels a little cheap, Teller so easily passing me off to someone else after what happened between us.
“Yeah. It’s fate, right?” I say, trying to convince myself more than him. After all, I can’t argue with fate. Fate is forever. These misplaced feelings for Teller are fleeting.
He gulps. “Yeah. Fate.”
Ding.
My phone lights up.
Caleb: Can u talk?
“Speaking of fate. Caleb just texted. He wants to meet up now.”
Teller sits up and smooths his hair out. “Right now?”
I nod. “Right now.”
“All right, well, I won’t hold you back. Your future awaits.” He reaches for my hand, and as he pulls me up, I search his face. For something. Sadness? Jealousy? Anything. But there’s nothing there.
I ignore the dense forest of his lash line. The way I want to curl into him like he’s a pile of fresh, warm laundry. I ignore it all. As complicated as my feelings are for Teller, this is fate pointing me in the right direction. Teller was never supposed to be mine.