I start crying in earnest but there’s joy there, too. I cover my face with my hands, wanting to see my dad so much that I can hardly breathe. I sit back a while later and wipe my face with the sleeve of my T-shirt. I know that I grieved for him in all the wrong ways. I know that all he feels for me is love. And even though he can’t be here physically, now I know where I can find him.
I take a deep breath and let my newfound freedom rush through me, returning the courage that I’ve held back from myself for far too long. I stop thinking. I stop worrying and questioning and without second-guessing, I open the journal, pick up my pen and start to write.
I can’t believe I’m leaving Italy. Six months have flown by and I’m now decrepitly dragging my two massive suitcases out of the cobblestone courtyard.
Liam notices my difficulty and steps forward to help, grabbing them by their handles and loading them into the waiting cab. My heart feels heavier than my overstuffed luggage as I watch him, knowing just how much he’s changed things for me.
“Is that all of it?” he asks after closing the trunk and walking back over.
“I think so.”
“You have the journal?”
“Yes.” I reach into my tote bag and feel around for the large sealed envelope holding the journal. “It’s addressed and ready. Once I get home and talk to him, I’ll take it to the post office and off it will go.”
“I’m glad to hear it. I can already picture you riding off into the sunset with Ryan as I gallop into my own wasteland of a love life, most likely on a sickly donkey.”
I shake my head and step forward to pull Liam in for a hug. I feign a crying sound and tighten my arms when he tries to pull away.
“You know, for someone with as much bark as you, I expected a tougher skin.”
“I’m all talk,” I say. “You should know that about me by now.”
“I do,” he assures me, “and I also know that you’ll be fine once you’re at the airport and on your way.”
I lean back to look up at him. “Your flight home isn’t for another week. Are you going to have pizza in the mornings without me?”
“Not a slice,” he answers solemnly. “It wouldn’t be the same.”
“How will you survive?”
“I’ll have to rely on croissants and your bittersweet memory to sustain me.”
I begrudgingly let him go and step back.
“I wouldn’t change anything, you know. If I stayed in New York, I wouldn’t have come here, and I wouldn’t have met you. I would do everything exactly the same.”
“Really? You’d do everything the same?”
I give him a knowing look, fully aware that he still thinks that I should have stopped Ryan when he came to Rome. I can see why. Watching Ryan drive away was a physically painful experience for me, but I had to take these last few months to heal and to really understand what I need and want. Stopping him four months ago would have been great in the moment, but who’s to say where we’d be today if we rushed into things again. I almost called or texted millions of times but stopped myself. I didn’t want to ask him to wait for me. I didn’t want him to put his life on hold. If I get home and he still feels the same way, we can start over. Not as a continuation but as something entirely new and based on who we are now.
“No comment,” I eventually answer.
A small grin pulls across Liam’s cheek. “I wouldn’t change anything either. You’re a very peculiar girl, but you’ve made a real difference.”
“A real difference in what?”
“Everything,” he says simply.
If that response doesn’t warrant another bear hug, I don’t know what does. I throw myself into his arms for a final time before getting into the cab. Once inside, I fasten my seat belt and roll my window all the way down.
“I’ll miss you,” I say as Liam steps closer. “And I’ve changed my mind. You can have pizza without me tomorrow if you want to.”
He flashes me a roguish smile, holding his hands behind his back and allowing me a good long look at him standing as he did the first time we met.
“I always intended to,” he says.
My jaw drops. “You jerk!”
Liam laughs as my taxi pulls away from the curb at a typical, crazy Italian speed. “Soft spoken until the very end,” he calls out. “I’ll miss you!”
23
I feel an absolute rush as I get out of the yellow cab in front of 5 Tudor City. It’s a cold October day but there’s so much excitement bursting through me that I don’t feel chilled in the least. The sounds of sirens, the people, the traffic, heck, even the smells...everything about New York sends my heart into a flutter.
I’m soon pulling my luggage off the elevator and power walking over to my door, feeling full-on butterflies as I thrust my key into the lock. I wrench the door open and step inside, breathing deep and becoming overwhelmed with a sense of everything clicking into place. I’m home. The apartment is stuffy, the air is stale and a small layer of dust is visible on the furniture, but to my eyes, this place hasn’t looked so beautiful since the day I bought it and realized it was mine.
I immediately grip Calliope’s handlebars and close my eyes with a squeal of delight. I’m itching to take her out for a ride, but I know that will have to wait until tomorrow. I give her bell a quick ding and then run across the living room to the windows. I fling them open, savoring the cold gust of wind that flows in. I do a quick spin, soaking in the feeling of total comfort.
I charge into the bedroom next and stop dead
