I pause. “Different how?”
“Like someone opened a window in you.” She looks at me moony-eyed. “I’m so happy for you.”
I press my thumb to the rim of my wine glass and watch a drop of condensation slide down the side. “You, Mom, and Dad were right. I needed to leave. I needed air.”
“Damn straight you did. We were tired of watching you disappear.” She looks up over her shoulder at her husband, Seamus, who waves at me from the background.
I wave back. “I didn’t realize how far gone I was.”
“You were a ghost, Ro.” Marcella shakes her head. “Beautiful. Successful. Exhausted. You hadn’t sounded like you in a long time.”
“You guys booked a first-class seat like you were sending me to rehab.”
“We were.” She points at me. “Seems like it worked.”
I laugh and recline back in my chair, holding up the phone so she can see my view. “You know what’s wild?”
“What?”
“I’m…sohappy.”
Marcella doesn’t speak for a beat. When she does, her voice is thick. “I’ve waited a long time to hear you say that.”
We talk a little longer about the food, the towns, the way he looks at me like I’m a discovery he gets to keep making. She doesn’t ask for explicit details, but I can hear the joy in her voice when I say things like, “He listens.” Or, “He doesn’t flinch when I go on a tangent about over-salting.”
At the end of our call, she warns, “I know all of this seems sudden and your head hasn’t caught up to your heart yet. Promise me you won’t run. Don’t sabotage whatever you’re building because you’re scared. Enjoy being in love.”
“Okay.” My heart beats a bit faster. “I won’t.”
Marcella scowls. “Knowing you, it’s possible. If you do, call me. I’ll set you straight.”
When I hang up, the sun is sinking behind the hills, casting everything in a warm light.
I hear the crunch of gravel.
Santiago comes around the side of the terrace, holding two paper bags and an unlabeled bottle of wine. His shirt sleeves are rolled to his elbows, forearms tanned. His smile, when he sees me, is pure sunlight.
“You’re going to be excited. They let me have the last order of anchovies.” He lifts the bag. “I’m officially the best boyfriend in the world.”
I step toward him before he can say another word. “I love you.”
He blinks in wonder. The same expression every time Itell him the truth.
Then his voice drops, reverent. “Rosa,” he breathes. “I love you too.”
The paper bag crinkles between us as he sets it down and pulls me into his arms. I feel his heart through his chest. Mine matches it beat for beat.
Whatever I thought love was before, this is more.
It’s salt and air and time.
It’s garlic on my fingers and wine on my tongue.
It’shim.
Chapter fourteen
A Few Days Later
