Chapter Thirty-Seven

Jordy

Three months later.

At this moment, I am sitting at a little café, listening to a young girl speak in Italian to her mother, but only catching every other word. She's so passionate about whatever they're speaking about that I am completely engrossed, even if I pretend it's the book in front of me that has my attention.

I think they're talking about the gelato. At least, that's what I'm passionate about. I spoon a bit into my mouth, closing my eyes as if I'm experiencing the perfect orgasm. Let me tell you, it's better than any orgasm I've ever had. So good that this is my third gelato today.

You know that book where the divorcee eats her way through Italy on her self-exploration retreat around the world? This is me now, eating my way through Italy, and loving every second of it.

If my mother could see me now, she'd blow a gasket. Especially when she finds out I've gone up a size to accommodate my food adventure. My God is it worth it.

It's been almost two months since I left the states. I started in Spain, exploring the Gothic Quarter, seeing Barcelona from a cable car, and losing my inhibitions while dancing the night away in darkly lit nightclubs. Now I'm here in Italy, where I've slept in late every morning, perused numerous art galleries, enjoyed lazy afternoons floating in a gondola, and indulged in eating. So much eating.

My mom would also be horrified at how utterly uncultured I am most days. I've also watched American movies in the theater and visited touristy dive bars, just to feel a bit of America while I'm away. All normal stuff I never really enjoyed at home, and I love it.

Maybe, like that book, I'll find love in one of these places—or maybe I won't. It's definitely not my main objective. For the first time in my life, I'm living life by my rules, with no one to tell me I can't.

I think about Brayden now and then. Sometimes I'm sad, but mostly I'm fine. I realize that wasn't the life for us. I couldn't take him away from the ranch, and I was a fool to think I could, or even should. Just like he couldn't take me away from the city. I'm already looking at real estate ads, thinking of buying a New York loft when I'm ready to come back. It's time to make my life my own, and I'm so ready for it.

I think about Nina too, maybe because we've started texting again. Nothing earth shattering. It started when she sent me photos from family dinners she now has with my parents and hers. It's weird to see them all together, but their smiles look genuine, which makes me happy. She's also sent me photos of her new house on the ranch, the one she and Brayden moved into.

This one stings a little, especially since I was never allowed to live there, even though I'd expressed interest. It's all history, but I can't help hoping the house burns down. Maybe just a little fire, nothing dangerous or anything.

I send her photos of me living my best life eating all the foods, and she tells me how jealous she is. That makes me happy.

Right now, in this perfect little café moment, I shoot a video of the bustling street in front of me, with the bell like voice of the little girl as the background sound. I move the camera to my gelato, then lift a spoonful to my mouth, closing my eyes with the camera trained on my face. I smile for the camera, then I send it to her, adding the following message:

Jordy: Glad you're not here.

Three little dots appear below my text, followed by a laughing emoji. Three more dots, and then her message pops through.

Nina: Italy looks good on you, cousin.

I smile at the text, almost like she's right here with me, and in this moment, I miss her terribly. Beyond the whole Brayden thing and all the lies and misunderstandings, I miss the times when it was just the two of us at Nanna Dot's house, cuddled under our blanket while we watched Practical Magic .

I make the bold move, touching her name and then hold my phone against my ear.

"Ciao, Bella," she says in awful Italian.

"Nanna Dot would cringe at your accent," I say. " è bello sentire la tua voce," I say in perfect Italian, one of the few phrases I remember from those Italian lessons I took years ago.

"I have no idea what you said," Nina laughs.

"I said, it's good to hear your voice." I smile, closing my eyes. "And it is. "

"Oh Jordy, it's good to hear yours too. How's Italy today?"

"Delicious," I say, then spoon another bite of melting gelato into my mouth. "I just called to say hello, and tell you I miss you."

"I miss you too," she says. "When are you coming home?"

"In another month," I say. "France is next, and I think I'll come back to the States after that. But you'll have to fly to New York to see me."

"I'll even fly to France, if you want me to," she laughs. I laugh too. It's tempting, but no. This trip is mine, and I'll finish it that way. "I love you, cousin," she says.

I breath in sigh, realizing how far we've come, knowing we still have a ways to go. But I see us getting there.

"I love you too," I tell her.