Normally, the PR department would handle all of that. But as long as I’m here, I’ve taken every excuse I can find to keep a line of communication open with her.
Today is my last day in New York. I fly back to Italy tomorrow morning. And I don’t want to leave without seeing her. Even if it’s the last time, and all she wants is to tell me we’ll never be anything more than friends.
I need to see her.
I take a deep breath and pick up my phone, bracing myself for another message saying she can’t talk right now.
It rings once. Two more times, until she answers. I close my eyes, relief washing over me.
“Hello?” she says, almost cautious.
I open my eyes, staring out at the view from my living room window, and only now do I realize I haven’t said a word, just listening to her breathe on the other end.
“Ciao, car—Cecilia.” I catch myself at the last second, but the word hangs there. “Can I still call you Cecilia?”
She doesn’t answer right away.
“Of course you can,” she whispers.
I let out a breath. “I have an invitation for you... and please don’t say no without giving it some thought.” I try to force a smile into my voice. “Today is my last day in New York, and I won’t be back in the States for a while.”
I hear her inhale. “Okay.”
“My sister finished the new paintings she’s been working on and just emerged from her self-imposed quarantine. As always, she’s gathering a few friends to show the pieces before they’re displayed or sold.” I pause, choosing my words. “Would you like to go with me?”
I give her space to think.
“I don’t know... you said it’s only for friends. Wouldn’t it be strange if I showed up with you?”
The question pulls a smile from me. “She’ll probably be happier to see you than to see me. I’ve been talking about you for a long time, and she’s been wanting to meet you.”
When she stops talking again, I lower my voice.
“If you don’t like the environment, I’ll take you home. And I insist on picking you up. The building where she paints is in a more isolated area—I wouldn’t feel right letting you drive there alone.”
After a moment, she says, “Okay. What time will you pick me up?”
Relief hits me so hard my shoulders drop.
“I’ll be there at eight. It’s a little over an hour’s drive.”
We say goodbye, and the moment the call ends, I cross the room and sink onto the couch, hoping the next four hours pass quickly.
Cecily
I take in my reflection. A light champagne-beige, sleeveless jumpsuit with a discreet V-neckline, a cinched waist, and wide legs that sway with every step I take. I’ve paired it with caramel flat sandals, composing an understated yet elegant look.
Alexander said it was a casual gathering. I just hope it’s right for wherever we’re going. I should’ve asked Alexander for more details, but for the first time... talking to him made me nervous.
Not knowing what to expect, I grab a cropped linen jacket, just in case the AC is too strong.
I run my fingers through my hair, letting the loose waves fall behind my shoulders, and give myself one last look in the mirror, checking for mascara smudges on my eyelids, lipstick on my teeth, anything out of place.
Satisfied with the result, I head downstairs to wait for Alexander.
The house feels so empty with the kids out you could hear a pin drop. Ethan left with Dalila and a few friends, and Alicia is spending the night at her father’s—for the first time.
On Wednesday, she asked if we could talk. She told me she wanted to try sleeping there, that it felt nice during her recent visits. I reassured her she could go, and that if she changed her mind at any point, all she had to do was say so. Her father would bring her back immediately.
