CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

ADELINA

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Okay, confession. I can’t cook.

I mean, I’m not going to starve but I never paid that much attention to my mom and grandma when they were giving me lessons.

I pretended to, but they always chastised me for messing things up. In the end, I would hover around my father and brother, hoping they’d let me hang out with them.

I’ve always been more interested in business.

Perhaps that’s how I caught snippets of what my family did. It was, looking back, the beginning of me wanting to get away. I felt shame about what we did.

The older I got, the more conscious I was of the ramifications to innocent people.

So anyway, I can’t cook all that well.

But I have a cart full of groceries I’m going to struggle to carry home and have no real idea if I have all the kitchenware to actually make any of it.

Or a recipe.

I should have gone to McDonald’s.

My god, what kind of Italian woman am I?

Dante would’ve been disappointed in me as a wife. He should be grateful. Mama died so early, so I was never trained to run a household. My father has retained most of the control in that regard.

I walk to the checkout and study the magazines.

Martha Stewart knew who she was. Except for that little incarceration moment.

I don’t.

I have no idea who I am. Or what my aspirations are.

My book cover design business is doing well. I’m proud of what I’ve achieved so far, and how it bought me my freedom.

Now what?

Do I want to get married? Do I want to be a mother?

Or build an empire.

Be a dog mom?

Be a human mom?

I’m a twenty-six-year-old woman with no clue about who I am.

Fuck, that’s sad.

I feel tears prickle and push them back.

My god, I’m having an identity crisis in the middle of Whole Foods. Which...also, I cannot shop here again—the prices are insane.

I wipe my eyes and push my hair off my face.

I’ve got this. I’ll figure it out one day at a time. It takes effort to change your life, and I’m so proud I took the next step.

One day it will feel normal and, hey, I can learn to cook. YouTube is my friend.

I know I can overcome those things. If I’m being honest with myself, it’s the empty feeling in my chest that’s truly bothering me.

I’m alone.

Or rather...Dante is gone.

The boy who has always been there. I never realized how much a part of me he has always been.

Since I was born.

And it’s like he’s not here, but I can still feel him surrounding me. Like a second layer of skin.

My protective layer.