I spent a long time staring at the empty drive, wondering if I’d be able to function. We would leave tomorrow, and I had one last day here. I’d promised Ian I wouldn’t waste it mourning for him and would take advantage of my final hours here.

It was a promise I planned on keeping.

Taking a deep breath, I walked back inside. “He’s gone.”

Enzo cleared his throat. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to make a call. I’ll be in my room.”

Mom shot him a grateful glance. I paced the kitchen, already feeling lost. “Are you okay, honey?” Mom asked.

“Sure. I mean, I knew he was going to leave. And, yeah, I really liked him, a lot, but he lives in Ireland and I live in New York, and he’s going to be a priest so it’s not like we can have this long-distance relationship or anything.” My voice kept getting higher, but I couldn’t seem to control it. “But I did promise him not to waste the day moping because I miss him, so tell me what the plan is. Maybe drive to Pisa—Enzo said it was close and we only got half a day there. I didn’t get to climb to the top of the tower. Or maybe we can go for a hike and get some exercise. It’s not that hot, so Nonni should be fine. What do you think?”

Nonni stayed silent, her arms clasped tight to her chest. It was Mom who finally did it. She closed the distance between us and stroked back my hair, the gesture a comfort I rarely experienced with her. “It’s okay to feel the hurt, sweetheart,” she said gently. “A good cry is the best way to cleanse.”

“I’m fine.” My lower lip trembled. “It’s just—I mean, I think I fell in love with him. Silly, huh?”

I waited for her to dismiss the whole thing as a crush or puppy love and not worthy of me. Instead, she shook her head. “Not silly at all. Ian was special.”

“Mom?”

“Yeah, honey?”

“I don’t know if I can do this.”

And then suddenly she moved and yanked me hard into her arms, and I broke and began to cry. She held me tight and I cried my heart out, and she murmured soothing phrases and promised me I was strong and it would all be okay.

For the first time in a long, long time, I believed her.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Francesca

I couldn’t stop thinking about my daughter.

I sat outside with Enzo on our last night together. We’d spent the day keeping Allegra busy with as much sightseeing as we could handle, distracting her with chatter and pointing out moments of Tuscan beauty. After dinner, she excused herself to go to her room, and I caught the sheer exhaustion and sadness in her eyes.