I was stuck making excuses for her, saying she had a headache, while I made conversation with the rest of the group and kept an eye on Nonni. My mother had been the one who’d forced the trip on me. She’d been the one who’d promised to spend quality time fixing our relationship and who’d said that we both needed a break from the stresses of our daily routine. She’d been the one who swore she wasn’t going to work and we’d make Italy an important memory for our family. She’d been the one who warned me about getting off my phone and viewing the world without a lens.

Bullshit.

She wanted to work again and used the video as an excuse. And just like I’d said, the views were already shrinking and had been replaced by another royal family feud splashed all over social media. Even worse? We’d had a great time yesterday. Sure, there were some crazy moments, but I felt as if we’d finally connected a bit. Then she’d gone and ruined it all over again.

I’d refused to talk to her when we got home last night or this morning, even though Nonni tried to play peacemaker. I texted David a few times, but he’d gone MIA so I decided to be cool until he reached out. Mom tried to sit with me on the bus, but I took a seat alone and spent the whole time on my phone. Maybe if I became like her she’d finally see how it felt.

We’d gotten up at six a.m. to be on the bus early in order to see Pompeii, and next we’d have a brief stopover in Naples before heading to Capri for the next few nights. Enzo warned it was a long travel day. I needed to try to focus on enjoying the day and not let her affect me.

Why hadn’t I learned? She’d never change. I needed to stop believing she would.

We didn’t have any earbuds today. Our guide had a loud, booming voice and a fun, jokey-type personality, even though the site seemed to require a serious, sad attitude because of the tragedy. The sun beat down mercilessly, but I began to forget the discomfort as our guide spun a story of what it was like to live in Pompeii. I couldn’t imagine dealing with the awful realization that I’d burn alive, along with the rest of the city’s population.

Ian eased beside me. “Is it wrong to be craving a snow cone right now?”

I tamped down a giggle. “Probably, but I wish we’d come around the corner and there’d be a Mr. Frosty truck.”