“Mhm, sure.” She grins. “Oh, and just so you know, condom in Italian ispreservativo. I Googled it. You know... in case you go through these at record speed and need more.”
I groan. “Felicity!”
She bursts out laughing and pulls me down onto the bed beside her.
“Okay, but now seriously,” she says, eyes bright with mischief. “I know you and Alexander are stuck in this... whatever this dragged-out tug-of-war is. I can’t even believe that man spent an entire month here because of you and you two didn’t kiss evenonce. Talk about slow burn...” She shakes her head like a disappointed mother.
“He was here for business and...”
“Anyway,” Felicity cuts me off with a dismissive wave. “Don’t let your insecurities speak louder than your own desires. I know you’ve only ever been with that asshole Colin your whole life, but don’t keep depriving yourself of new experiences because of fear or because of things that happened in the past.”
I’ve spent the last few weeks working through all of this in therapy. Caroline, my therapist, has told me nearly everythingFelicity just said, just in a far more professional tone. Encouraging me to talk openly about my fears and insecurities, to question what I’m feeling until I reach the root of each emotion.
“I know. I’ve talked about all of this with Caroline too.”
“Well,” Felicity replies, teasing, “Caroline’s going to whip you into shape one way or another.” Then her face lights up again, and she adds, “And don’t forget to keep up with your Kegel exercises. Just because you haven’t hit forty yet doesn’t mean you get to slack off.”
I swat her shoulder and then pull her into a hug. Grateful for everything she’s done for me these past few months.
They call my flight, and I turn to Alicia. The moment I see the tears in her eyes, my heart stutters. “Hey... don’t cry, or you’re going to make me cry too,” I say, pulling her into my arms. “Five weeks are going to go by so fast.”
“I know, Mom. And I want you to go and have the best time,” she says, her face buried in my chest.
I glance at Colin standing just behind her. From here, she’s going straight with him, and it feels strange having him here beside us. But Mark is in San Francisco, so he couldn’t be the one to bring Alicia to say goodbye.
“I need to go, sweetheart, or I’m going to miss my flight.”
Alicia hugs me tight again before letting go. “Don’t forget to take lots of pics and videos. Oh! And my gifts, obviously.”
I laugh. “I won’t forget. Promise.” I turn to Colin. “Thank you for bringing her. If you need anything, just call me. I’ll always have my phone with me.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of our girl,” he says, resting his hands on Alicia’s shoulders.
I give Alicia one last quick hug, then turn away, adjusting the leather backpack on my shoulder.
Every step I take toward the plane pulls my stomach into a tighter knot of nerves. By the time I find my seat in first class and fasten the belt, I can feel my pulse fluttering in anticipation.
When the plane finally takes off, I watch New York shrink beneath the clouds, the city growing smaller and smaller until it becomes nothing but distance. I lean back into the headrest.
I’m nervous. Hopeful... terrified. And excited for whatever the next few weeks are going to bring.
Alexander
Following the last eighteen days of Cecilia’s trip through her blog, and through our calls and messages, turned my work into nothing more than background noise.
I can’t fully believe she’s this close... and that I’ll see her again soon.
The day I called and she told me about the trip, I smiled like an idiot the entire time, trying to keep it from bleeding into my voice. And in these last few days, I’ve caught myself counting the hours until her next update.
Not having the six-hour time difference has helped, but I prefer waiting for her to reach out first. I don’t want to interrupt her exploring, or make her feel watched. It’s the first time in years that she’s taking time just for herself, and I want her to enjoy every moment of it.
So far, she’s been through Lisbon, Barcelona, Amsterdam, Paris, London, and now she’s in Edinburgh. Her favorites were Barcelona and Amsterdam. Her least favorite... Paris.
When I asked why Paris disappointed her, she said:“I thought the city would, at the very least, smell better than it does.”
When I asked if she expected it to smell like French perfume, we both laughed, and she called me scemo—her new favorite Italian word whenever she wants to call me silly.
Another complaint: the landmarks didn’t meet her expectations. Which is why she cut Paris short, stayed only two nights, and arrived in London a day early.
