“You don’t mind?”
He shakes his head. “Maya, I’m not risking your love for anything.”
My chest tightens. “You keep saying things that ruin me.”
“I’m just telling the truth.”
I rest my head on his shoulder. “You know, you’re exceptionally good at this whole holiday thing.”
“Don’t get used to it,” he teases. “Christmas might just be pizza and beer.”
“As long as we’re together, I don’t care.”
He turns his head, presses a kiss to my hair. “That’s the only present I want.”
“Me too,” I murmur.
The night settles around us, gentle and full. Somewhere inside, my friends are still laughing. Our mothers are probably swapping recipes. And me? I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
With the man I love.
After all, love isn’t a game. It doesn’t follow rules or keep score.
Sometimes it just takes one good kick to send it flying in the right direction.
EPILOGUE
UNDERDOG UPSET – LOWER-RANKED TEAM BEATS THE FAVORITE.
Two Years Later
Iknew when Italy stopped being a vacation and wove itself into my heart. Ironically, it was when Troy and I were in London and I stood in a smelly locker room facing my past head-on and felt nothing but regret for time lost.
Then again, if I hadn’t traveled that road, would I be here? Hand in hand with the man I love, walking towards our tree in the late afternoon, sun spilling through the vines, the wind carrying the scent of earth and wine?
Maybe, maybe not.
Looking back, I’m certain a divine member of the sisterhood was looking out for me to ensure I overheard the putrid words that came out of my ex-fiancé’s mouth. That had me booking my first real vacation in forever atTenuta delle Ombre.
That made me recognize my future was Troy.
Sure, I told my past self I just wanted to extend the trip. But even then, I knew it was my fear talking. After all, how could I trust falling in love so quickly when the man I had put my faith in for so many years had cruelly betrayed me?
Turns out, it was easy if the man was Troy.
Since our first Thanksgiving together, I resumed my life—figuring Troy had toknowwho I am to truly be in love with me. I collected more stamps on my passport—returning to Vietnam, New Zealand, Thailand, the Maldives—assignments that kept me away for weeks. Yet, what surprised me was that each and every time, Troy sat down with me and figured out if there was a way possible for him to meet up with me.
To share this part of my life.
The building blocks of our life.
Eventually, I gave in and had all of my mail forwarded to Italy, to which my mother remarked, “What took you so long?” Troy said nothing, merely asked if we needed to add an addition to the villa to accommodate what I was shipping over.
That brought about a whole new set of questions. Was there anything from my past life—other than clothes, books, and mementos—that was worth the expenditure? I flew back to the States, stood in the remnants of my life before Troy—which myparents had stored at their old home—and much of it felt more foreign than the places I traveled to.
It belonged to another me. A me I let go of long, long ago.
A me who once loved a weak man, but who no longer resembles that same woman.
