She laughed, "I wanted you to know before you left."
I snuffled, "Thank you."
She shook her head, "I should have told them to go fuck themselves years ago. Shawn got a job in Boston working for Muriel. He and I, along with Muriel, are moving out there to have the baby."
I frowned, "Why is she helping us so much?"
She shook her head, "I don’t know. She just decided she was moving to Boston and came and asked Shawn if he was happy at his job. He said no, of course. She offered him the same position at her new company in Boston. She has a bunch of family there. Her kids moved there. She hates the old house, reminds her of Mr. Lawson. So we bought a house and sold the one here. Dad told everyone he fired Shawn and tried to smear his name everywhere, but I think people are starting to see the little weasel he really is."
I gripped her hands, "I am so happy for you."
She laughed, "Yeah, well. Just wait. You are being named godmother."
I hugged her again, "What's the date?"
"End of June."
"Congratulations to you both."
She pulled back, "Hurry up and grab a small bag of stuff for Italy. You have to go."
I started to tear up again, "Thank you."
She grabbed my face, "It's the least I could do after abandoning you."
I shook my head, "I never wanted to take you down with me."
She kissed my forehead, "You have ten minutes—run."
Saturday Morning
My eyes burned but I lugged my bag through the airport. I had never taken a red-eye flight before. It was unbearable. At least she had gotten me first class. I couldn't imagine coach on top of a red eye.
I didn’t know where I was going, beyond the address in my pocket.
It was colder than I recalled Rome being, not that I had ever come in December before.
I walked up to an elderly taxi driver and tried my best Italian on him. He smiled, "You an American?"
I narrowed my gaze, "Maybe."
He opened the door for me. I passed him the address, "You know this place?"
He nodded, "I know it." His English was far superior to my Italian. He looked back, "You a cowgirl?"
I laughed, "No. New Yorker."
He pointed, "Rudest people in the world. I saw the show the other night on Discovery Channel."
I laughed and nodded, "That sounds about right."
"I don’t care. I still want to go, one day. Is my dream." He drove like a madman through the streets to a hotel, not just any hotel. He was staying at the Boscolo Aleph.
I frowned, "This is it?"
He nodded.
I got out and looked up at the huge stone building with the large red flag and beautiful, red front door. I had never stayed, but I knew of it. The architecture of it was something I had studied.
"Isn't this the ‘five sins’ hotel?"
"Yes! You are a smart New Yorker."
I paid him and walked up to the door. The handsome doorman got the door for me. I walked inside and went directly to the elevator. The piece of paper had the floor number for me. I pressed it, surprised there was no elevator operator.
When the elevator got to the floor, I walked out, praying he was home, and yet, somehow also not home. I didn’t want to face the music and explain everything. I just wanted us to be like we were before.
I put my hand up to knock but I heard a sound I hadn’t been prepared for, like an idiot. A woman laughed. Of course. It was France. Of course some hot Italian woman was there. I almost turned away but something inside of me forced my hand to knock.
A lady answered. She was stunning—a model for certain. She cocked an eyebrow, "Can I help you?" She had a thick accent.
"Is Mike here?"
She looked me up and down and laughed, "Mike, the door is for you." Her mocking tone almost made me jump her but she didn’t know me. She underestimated me. I looked like slightly-warmed shit, I was sure, but Mike didn’t care. The minute he saw me, his face grew into a huge grin, "No fucking way?" He pointed at me, "Are you real?"
I nodded.
He nearly shoved her out of the way and scooped me up into his arms. He nuzzled into my neck and took a deep breath, like he was breathing me. He dragged me into the room.
"Michael, what is going on?"
He put me down and looked me over, "You okay?"
I nodded again, unable to speak without crying and telling him everything all at once. He lifted my wedding finger, "No ring?"
I shook my head.
"Getting a divorce already?"
"I never got married. You knew that."
The model stomped between us, "Michael, who is this? Your little sister?"
I felt my eyes narrow but he ignored her, "You never ended up marrying him afterwards? I knew the day was ruined but the relationship is over?"
I frowned, "Where have you been? It was in the paper."
He laughed, "Jack, I never read a single thing. I just shut down and came here. I knew Phil had followed me out that day; he was pissed, but I figured your dad would have everything patched up by now."
I glanced at the model, putting my hand out, "Jacqueline Croix."
She smiled sarcastically, "Daniela."
He didn’t notice us talking. He just stared at me. I looked at him and then her, "If I'm interrupting, I can just wait for you downstairs."
She nodded, "I'll call down and get you a room ready."
I was being dismissed. I slapped France on the shoulder, "I'll meet you downstairs then."
He nodded, "Meet me in the red library in five minutes."
I left the room, not looking back. It wasn’t the reunion I had expected, but all I could do was hope he would listen. And maybe not bring the model.
I took the elevator to the lobby and asked about the red library. The front-desk person pointed me in the right direction. I was a little weirded out that it was a library without books, but the whole hotel looked like Ikea, instead of the huge, stone Roman building it was on the outside.
I sat and waited. My stomach was in my throat. The modern decorations made it worse.
I was lost in space and a terrible place mentally, when the door opened and he slipped inside. He closed the door. The initial joy of seeing me was gone. He looked nauseous. It made me feel worse.
He sat across from me on the odd and uncomfortable chair. He looked like he might break it. He was bigger, beefier than before. He must have been working out hard.
"How's it going?"
I shook my head, "I don’t know."
He gave me a hard look, "Look, I owe you an apology. I acted like an asshole and ruined your wedding. I know you never chose me and I had no right to do it."
I shook my head again, "France, I chose you. I still choose you."
He flinched, "Jack, me and Daniela, we're uhhhh…"
I put a hand out, "I know. I gathered that. I just needed to see you. I missed you."
He looked sickened, "I miss you too."
I stood, clearing my throat, "So, I'll see you around then." I quickly ran out the door. Daniela was at the front desk, beaming at me. She pointed and a man came over, "Ms. Croix, of course you must stay the night with us. Ms. Rabissi was just telling us who you are."
I smiled, the breeding and good manners were there for life, there was no fighting that. I couldn’t just walk away. I had to be polite. "Thank you, sir. You are too kind."
He passed me a room key, "We have you in an executive suite. Is this your only bag?" He eyed up my small carry-on bag. I nodded and passed it to the bellhop, awkwardly standing in the circle.
He turned for the elevators. I smiled again, "Thank you so much. Good evening."
I turned and followed after the young man with my single bag. I had no nice clothes or shoes or anything. I had only the jeans and tee shirts and sweaters I had packed. My room was nice, but again, modern. It didn’t have the romantic feel of Rome, which might have been good, considering where my heart was. I tried to feel something but there was nothing. I was blank inside. I started unpacking when there was a knock at the door.
It was Daniela and France.
"Hi."
She walked into my room, "We were wondering if you wanted to have dinner with us?"
I opened my mouth to say no, when France shook his head, "She is probably beat. That’s a long flight."
Daniela took my hand, "You must."
I smiled, "I never came prepared for dinner out. I came on a whim, hoping to see Mike play with the Italians."
She beamed, "He plays tomorrow; last game before we go to Boston and I say goodbye to my beloved Roma."
I smiled through the pain of the reality she was going to Boston, not me. "Why don’t we just agree to meet tomorrow then, and I will watch the game with you."
She tilted her head, "Yes, alright. That works well too." She looked over at France, "Doesn't it, Michael?"
His face was still stunned, "What? Yeah, sure." I could only assume he was shocked I was there. Or that he was with someone else and I was available. We just never seemed to get it right.
My tears were barely holding themselves at bay. He gave me a desperate look, "So dinner then?"
I frowned, "No, the game tomorrow."
He shook his head, "I'll have some clothes sent up. Take a nap and we'll see you this evening downstairs. Seven?"
I wanted to argue, but I was about to burst so I just nodded, "Sure."
Daniela smiled like she was my mother. She latched onto France's arm, "See you in a few hours." They left the room, but as I closed the door, I caught something on France's face, a look of confusion. I shook my head, closing the door and leaning against the back of it with a sigh.
I crawled into the bed and closed my eyes before the tears got out.
Saturday Night
The knock at the door woke me. I had drooled all over myself in what I would forever call ‘the greatest nap ever’. Groggily, I stretched and climbed off the bed. When I answered, I was stunned. France was standing at the door with bags from what looked like boutiques. I frowned, fighting the heartache, "What are you doing?"
