“Yeah,” I say. “I’m great.” Benito looks at me with worry in his eyes, but I don’t have the energy to assuage him.
He smiles softly, a glint of gloss on his eyes. “Ok, then. Have fun.”
“To Izzy!” Mia raises an Aperol Spritz and the other ladies and I cheers with matching bright orange cocktails. It’s a perfect sunny day. The kind you see on the travel reels of a blond, hot influencer. We’re on the patio at Osteria Bettina because coffee turned into lunch which turned into after-lunch drinks. We’re toasting me, for not the first time, because my outing made La Musa trend, and I’m the one who convinced the mayor to turn against the development deal. Benito more or less came to that revelation on his own, but whatever, I’ll take an accolade. Besides, Benito’s meeting with Raffaello to firmly decline his company’s renovation proposals today. By nightfall, all the drama will be in the past.
I glance at my phone and a headline about Senator Franklin catches my eye. The news is out and soon Marisol’s candidacy, and his endorsement, will be too. Senate was always the most logical next step for me. California’s senators are young, but maybe in 10 years or 20 I could make a run. And in another four or five years toss my hat in the ring for president. Maybe I wouldn’t get the nomination on my first try, but I would the next time.
I made sure my reputation in Washington was the right mix of spitfire and squeaky clean. A fighter, a warrior for her constituents, for what would make the world a better place, but without even a speck ofcorruption or scandal. I had good relationships with my colleagues who fought for the same things I did and garnered just the right amount of animosity from those on the other side.
Hatred of me was galvanizing for voters, that’s what Kate said whenever I was wary my verbal takedowns went too far. The more they talked about me on the news, the better for me overall. The attacks, the vitriol, were good as long as they were met equally with progress on my campaign promises. The abuse was worth it until it wasn’t.
I don’t miss the death threats, the security scares, the spamming from trolls, but I miss the high of doing something right. Those moments snapped everything into focus. It wasn’t just about me, that’s what I always said to voters, to the media, it was about the people. I was meant to be a representative of the people. The only thing I had that was solely for me was Levi, and he turned out to be my downfall.
Now my entire life is for me, and I’m not going to let how I used to see the world make me feel guilty for that. I tried. I really, really tried, and it didn’t work. Why would I go back to a life of public service now that I’ve seen the other side? Now that I know the public turns on you the second you admit you’re imperfect.
I’m significantly buzzed when I leave coffee/lunch/drinks at around 5 p.m. The sun is starting to set, leaving bright pink streaks through the sky. I walk past theduomo, the clock tower, the center of town with its various shops, bars, and restaurants, allbustling much more than they were three months ago. I try to capture a whiff of pride. This is because of me, right? I came to La Musa and now it is in better economic shape because of me. Why doesn’t it feel like a victory?
I walk into the house to find Benito and Anita conversing in Italian in the kitchen. They stop when I walk in. “Izzy!” Anita says brightly. “You’ll join us all for dinner tonight?” I don’t know who“us all”includes, but I nod. “Perfetto!” Anita chimes.
Benito pours us each a glass of wine and Anita takes hers to the backyard. Once we’re alone, I turn to him. “How’d it go with your father?” I ask.
Benito runs his finger along the stem of his glass. “We were able to reach an agreement.”
I wait for him to face me and tell me the whole story, but he doesn’t. “. . . And?”
Benito takes a long sip of wine and looks in my direction, not quite meeting my eyes. “He convinced me that converting the old estate into a hotel is the right move. We have more tourists than the inns in town can handle, and it’s a beautiful property. It does no use to anyone sitting vacant.”
It’s a reasonable compromise. A small, luxury resort in a historic villa that would make La Musa more attractive to high-end tourists is not the end of the world. “Ok. That makes sense. What about the rest?”
He glances around the room as if he’s making sure no one else is within earshot. “He agreed to kill the deal on developing the rest of town.”
I grin, but Benito’s still stoic. “That’s great!” I nudge him with my elbow. “Why aren’t you more excited?”
He takes a deep breath. “There are strings attached. With my father there always is.”
“I’m not surprised.” I laugh. “I knew Raffaello wouldn’t walk away from a deal with nothing. What are the strings?”
Benito looks back down at his wine glass. “I’d have to go work for him.”
My heart sinks. That’s the last thing Benito would want. “In Milan?”
He shakes his head. “In London.”
The bottom of my stomach hollows out and I worry I’m about to vomit up the three Aperol Spritzes in my system. “But you’re not doing it, right?”
Benito’s eyes finally meet mine. They’re not as bright, not as sparkly as I know them to be. “I don’t think I have a choice.”
The edges of my limbs tingle and every nerve in my body shatters. I’ve felt this way once before. A mountain forms in my throat and when I open my mouth to speak, no words come out. Benito swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down like an unanchored rowboat. He clasps his fingers around mine.
I try to process what this means. Benito agreed to move back to London, just like that. Sutton’s getting what she wants, she warned me she always does. Only, I didn’t think it’d be that easy. I didn’t think Benito would leave me so easily. “I—”
We’re interrupted when Anita walks back into the house. Benito gives me a pointed look and shakes his head. He hasn’t told his mother yet, but I’m certain he’ll spin it so she’ll be thrilled. She knew Benito didn’t want to come back here and now he’s going back to London, where he always wanted to be. I was so worried about convincing him I wasn’t a flight risk that I never stopped to consider that he might be the one to leave. My stomach churns. I should’ve eaten more today.
“Izzy, are you alright?” Anita asks. “You look ill.”
I hold up a finger. “Fine,” I choke out. “I just need some air.” I put my wine glass down on the counter and flee out the front of the house. I inhale sharply when the fresh air greets me outside. The front door creaks open and I see that Benito’s followed me. He wordlessly leans against the fence next to me. “What the hell?” I croak out.
Benito takes a deep breath and revels in a long blink. “I know how it must sound to you—”
