“If you do fill in the journal and you include your time in Italy, can the literary version of me be a bit more muscular and have a tan? I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have a tan.”

I smile as Liam turns and leaves without another word. The apartment door closes shortly thereafter and without meaning to, I move to the coffee table and pick up the journal. I also bring my hand to the outside of my pajama pants pocket, where Ryan’s letters are safely tucked away.

A few minutes later, I’m sitting at my dining room table with the journal open to the first blank page. I have no idea what to write or if I’m going to write at all. Maybe I’ll fill it cover to cover and keep it for myself. Maybe I’ll throw it away. Maybe I’ll hold it tight to my chest as I take a direct flight to North Carolina.

No matter the content, I have to write something. I can’t keep going on the way I am. Here in Italy, I’m in this beautiful limbo. I’m living but I’m not. I’m growing but I’m stunted.

I close the book and look at the picture on the cover. Ryan took it the morning of the rehearsal dinner when we had just finished up with breakfast. We’re in our pajamas, laughing in pain and nearly falling off the couch as Duke scrambles between us, his paws digging into our stomachs.

I run my fingertip along the surface of the photo.

This isn’t what the cover of a romance novel should look like. It isn’t passionate or dramatic. It doesn’t show off a scantily dressed hero and heroine, embracing each other with a lush backdrop. It’s less. It’s more.

I close my eyes and think back to Liam’s advice. I do what he says. I try to clear my head and imagine the life that I want. It’s not easy, my mind is a jumbled place with endless chatter, but I somehow manage to find quiet. Calm. I picture my life five years from now, envisioning the highest and truest version of myself, living a life built on contentment from the ground up.

I see myself and who’s there with me and my eyes snap open as I look down. As unprepared as I am to admit it, the life that I want is a mirror image of the photo staring up at me. Terrified acceptance fills my consciousness and for some reason, in that moment, memories of my dad flood my mind and heart.