“The next few weeks probably won’t be easy—but they will certainly be better because we’re here. And because we’re together,” Charlotte added.
Sloane held up her glass. “To a month in Italy!”
“To a month in Italy!” they both said in unison and leaned forward to clink their glasses against her own.
Charlotte couldn’t sleep even after Julian and Sloane called it a night. She went to her room at the same time they did, but after about thirty minutes of tossing and turning, she sat up, grabbed her phone from the nightstand and opened her Instagram app. She’d been avoiding social media since Cliff kicked her out, but she’d been so active since her first book was published that she knew her prolonged silence had to seem strange to her followers. She needed to tell themsomething. She was flooded with direct messages from fans who were worried about her.
OMG! Are you and Clifford breaking up? Tell me it isn’t so.
I cried all day. You and Cliff are perfect for each other. Don’t let anything happen to your marriage!
This can’t happen to today’s Barbie and Ken! But whatever’s going on, please know that he was lucky to have you.
You’re just as pretty as that model he’s with now. Prick!
There were also a lot of mean messages, people who were eager to celebrate her fall from grace. She didn’t understand trolls. Maybe seeing her suffer made them feel better about their own lives. Getting dumped made her human—knocked her off the pedestal some people had put her on—and there were as many gloating about her downfall as mourning it.
She winced as she read some of the comments that said she should “eat shit and die,” that she was never good enough for Cliff to begin with, that she was a gold digger or that now she must finally realize she was no better than anyone else. Hurtful comments always seemed to carry the most weight. But she felt a responsibility to the many people who were being kind—or trying to be.
What could she say to them? She didn’t want to reveal that she’d just learned she’d been adopted and discovered that she had a half sister. She wouldn’t have wanted to reveal the news about her divorce, either, but it was already out there. It was time to make a public statement. But she had to be careful how she went about it. She couldn’t risk coming off as disingenuous, flippant or angry. She cared about her readers, but she needed them, too—now more than ever. If they didn’t continue to follow her and buy her next book, she’d soon be out of a job even if she managed to get a new manuscript completed. She’d always known the second contract was the one that could finally pay well. Signing a new author was so speculative, a publisher couldn’t offer as much as they could to someone who had a good track record. But to get that next contract, she had to stay relevant and connected on social media, and that meant keeping the content going on Insta, which was her main platform, so readers wouldn’t forget her—wouldn’t drift away and start spending their time and money on someone else.
Sorry I went AWOL. First, my mother was ill. Then I had to rush to get ready for a trip to Italy to meet some of my family. But I wanted to let you all know that I’m fine. You’ve probably heard Cliff and I have split up. Sadly, we grew apart and had different goals in the end. But it was a mutual decision, one made very amicably. We plan to remain friends and continue to support each other in the coming years, so please be kind to us both as we navigate these tricky waters. Transitioning back to single life won’t be easy, but I can’t think of a better place to do it than on the Amalfi Coast, where I’m hard at work on my next book. I can’t wait to see what you think of it!
She knew from the many celebrities who’d gone through high-profile divorces that pretending all was friendly and fine would at least put outsomeof the speculation fires burning on the internet. And while she didn’t have an expensive publicity firm like most of those people, she could copy their approach. She couldn’t see how remaining generous and positive could get her into trouble.
She called up the pictures Julian had taken earlier—he’d sent her and Sloane a few when they’d asked about them at dinner—and picked a shot of the Amalfi Coast that showed a small fortress-like ruin that had once been a watchtower. He’d toldthem there were about thirty of these round stone buildings—most falling apart to some extent because they were so ancient—strung along the coast from Vietri sul Mare to Positano. They’d once been used as lookouts to warn the local villagers of the approach of Saracen pirates, he’d said, who, according to the internet, first arrived in Southern Italy in AD 711.
That small, resolute, unyielding tower seemed symbolic—perfect for her post—which was why she chose it over a beautiful shot of Positano, visible down the coast, and the Mediterranean Sea. She should’ve run away the first time Clifford showed interest in her, should’ve protected her heart. Her parents had tried to warn her of the difficulties she’d face by getting involved with someone who was so famous. And they’d been right. All he’d done was pillage her heart and then burn it to the ground simply because he could.
After posting what she’d written, along with Julian’s photograph—he’d made it clear he had no intention of using it commercially, which made it fair game—she put her phone back on the nightstand, scooted down in bed and punched her pillow, hoping she could finally get some sleep. Her meeting with Luca in the morning would come all too soon.
But fifteen minutes later, she found herself getting up again, this time to retrieve her computer. She’d thought she was done with basketball, had found it ridiculous that Cliff would even ask if she’d seen his last game. But it was the playoffs, and she’d spent the past several years making him the center of her universe, had grown accustomed to caring about what he cared about, which was basketball. So she suddenly felt left out, as if the party was still going strong without her and no one even cared that she was no longer there.
As she put on the game, her heart ached when she saw Cliff. There’d been so many challenges to being married to him, not the least of which were his extreme highs and lows and the wayhe constantly swung between them. Their experience wasn’t like that of most young couples, that was for sure. But she’d seen and done so many wonderful things she would not have done without him. And no one was more fun to be with—when he was happy, anyway.
She’d meant only to catch a few minutes, just enough to get another glimpse of her soon-to-be ex-husband in his element, where he did such incredible things—but two hours later, she’d watched the entire game, including the interview afterward, during which tears dripped off her chin as Cliff talked about his performance and smiled proudly for the cameras, seemingly as happy as ever.
Sloane woke up to a message from Ben.
How’d you like the limoncello spritz? (I’d make that plural, but I’m not sure how.)??
She sent him a reply for when he got up in the morning saying she’d enjoyed it, that they needed to come to the Amalfi Coast together sometime and wishing him a good day at work. Then she set her phone aside and got up. Julian had suggested they go sightseeing this afternoon. She wanted to have coffee with him, get online and research their options.
When she came downstairs, the house was quiet. Charlotte and Lilly didn’t seem to be up yet, but she found her brother sitting on the deck, the umbrella on the dining table once again expanded to block the sun while he read a book calledA Walk in the Parkby Kevin Fedarko.
“Morning,” she murmured.
He lowered his book as she came toward him. “Morning.”
She laid a hand on the back of the chair facing him, but didn’t sit down. “You sleep okay?”
“I did. You?”
He didn’t look as well rested as he normally did, but she passed that off as jet lag. “Pretty good.” She gestured at the house. “You didn’t make any coffee? Should I put some on?”
“I thought it’d be fun to find a shop. We could grab a pastry, too, and look around while we’re at it.”
She liked the prospect of strolling through the tiny cliffside town in the mellow weather, enjoying a doughnut with an iced coffee. “Now, there’s an idea,” she said. “What about Charlotte and Lilly?”
