I slid into the driver’s seat of my ancient Honda Civic, stuck the key into the ignition, and held my breath until it sputtered to life. Before I moved to the Bay Area, I traded in the fancy BMW Ciro had given me for my twenty first birthday because I needed the money for a fresh start.
Commuters were on the roads, heading to San Francisco like me. I had an hour-long drive due to the traffic. I really should’ve been on the road at seven, but I had lingered too long with Pippa.
God, I hope there aren’t any accidents.
If I could afford to live in the city, I wouldn’t waste two hours each day in the car, and I could spend them with Pippa.
I sighed at the thought. Two extra hours with Pippa would be heavenly.
Anytime I had nothing occupying my attention, like now sitting in traffic, my mind always wandered to Pippa’s daddy. It was impossible not to think of Ciro when our daughter had his mesmerizing brown eyes. They were also Ciro’s mother’s eye color. Out of the three Remotti boys, Ciro was the only one with brown eyes like Giovanna, who had died when Ciro was five. Roman and Luca had hazel-green eyes like their mother, Silvia.
Goosebumps covered my arms when I remembered Ciro was in San Francisco.He’s in San Franciscorepeated in my head.He’s in San Francisco.
Or maybe he returned to Canada like I’d asked him to.
Why, after all this time, would he just show up? I’d been doing better. Now, I felt raw and weak again.
“Stop it. You don’t need him.”
I cranked up the radio and searched the stations for something upbeat. Finally, Madonna belted out “Lucky Star,” and I sang right along with her. The one and only good thing my mom had done for me, had been introducing me to eighties music. For that, I was grateful.
Music helped kill time and diverted my thoughts off Ciro. However, it wasn’t nearly enough of a reprieve from the man who’d broken my heart.
Damn him for coming back!
Though the morning was gray and kind of sad, matching my current mood, I needed to shake it off. I didn’t want my boss or co-workers to question if I was okay.
I was rarely okay.
But Madonna had me wiggling my body in my seat. I imagined the video of her dancing and wished I could movelike her. When I was a little girl, I’d wanted to take dance lessons, but my mother had told me I wasn’t good enough and it would be a waste of money.
Now that I was older, I knew my mother didn’t have the money to begin with. Still, her words had been hurtful. I’d believed I wasn’t good enough and never joined my friends on the dance floor at school dances.
If Pippa asked to take dance lessons, I’d figure out a way to pay for them.
The upbeat song ended, and a familiar piano solo began.
Our song.
Tears immediately stung my eyes. I hadn’t heard “No One” by Alicia Keys since the night we danced under the stars at the party—the night I’d walked out of Ciro’s life.
Why did it have to come on the day after seeing Ciro? This wasn’t what I needed when I already felt vulnerable. Still, I let the song play as tears rolled down my face. It was a reminder of how Ciro wasn’t the one for me. Or more like I wasn’t the one for him.
I hated how the song affected me so painfully. It shouldn’t since Cirowas the one whobroke us. I’d loved him with my whole heart, and he couldn’t give me the commitment or the love I needed and deserved in return.
When I was hurting, he wasn’t around…
I slammed my hand on the steering wheel. I didn’t want to think about Ciro or what we once had or how it ended.
“Damn you for coming back.” I let out an angry scream, something I never did. But, in the process, I released some stress, so maybe it was a good thing.
Or not…
A sob hit with vengeance as I sat in traffic. I hadn’t cried this hard in months. I’d been doing better. Better after Cirohad thrown me away. Better after having his baby and struggling to make ends meet.
I was doing better.
Why would he just show up out of the blue? He hadn’t called or texted once. I hadn’t changed my number to make it easier for him to find me. Dumb, right?
