I remember Ryan waking me up this morning—his hand in mine, his mouth leaving soft kisses on my neck. I remember the cooking class we took yesterday—half the class had their eyes on him, but he only had his eyes on me. I remember him standing behind me the first time we saw the Trevi Fountain—my back pressed to his warm chest as he wrapped his arms around my front, whispering into my ear that life could never be better than this.

I take all the love I feel for him and send it from my heart, through my arms and out the tips of my fingers. I start to type, knowing what Ryan said was true. Life really couldn’t be better than this.

21

Last month, I finished my novel by the skin of my teeth. My minor psychotic break/serious imagination exercise where I pretended Ryan came to Italy proved successful, and even though I cried for an hour straight once I was done, my last chapter turned out just how I needed it to.

I’ve definitely turned a corner of some kind. After a year of nerves and guilt, I forgot what it felt like not to have a deadline follow me around like a menacing shadow. Suffice to say, I’m happier now, but I still don’t feel like my old self. I’m starting to question if I ever will.

Liam and I spend even more time together after our first and last date. We’re keeping things strictly platonic, both agreeing that as convenient as it would have been for our friendship chemistry to translate to romantic chemistry, it just isn’t there. I’m thinking my mid-makeout cryfest took care of that on Liam’s end and for me, our dreamy balcony kiss felt like little more than a prolonged face high-five. Tragic but true.

At least we made personal progress. Liam isn’t as uptight as he used to be and I’m attempting to let go of some pent-up feelings. He talks more about his future and I reveal more about my past. We’re both just more relaxed in general.

It’s coming on the end of month two of my trip and I finally start telephoning everyone back home instead of emailing. I call my mom first and she’s thrilled to hear from me. Things have noticeably shifted between us since our open conversation at my apartment. She’s not on the offensive. I’m not on guard. We’re talking and enjoying each other in a way that feels brand-new, yet so familiar, and I hope it stays this way forever.