“The dynamic duo is at it again,” Aude said. There was slight irony in her voice.
Rachelle wanted to curl up into a ball and never look at anyone again.
After dinner, Rachelle took a cab back to Trastevere, where she planned to put on pajamas, eat snacks, watch television, and feel bad for herself. She couldn’t believe this had been her “big, opening night.” She went up the stairs and entered her apartment, where she heard immediately the sounds of Riccardo, cackling on the balcony. He was with someone; he had someone over. Rachelle’s heart dropped. She didn’t want to deal with any of Riccardo’s friends.
As Rachelle approached the kitchen to pour herself some wine and get some snacks, she tried and failed to understand what Riccardo and his friend were saying. She was pretty sure the friend was Arturo, his longtime best friend, with whom he’d grown up. But their conversation was too rapid, too raucous. They cackled again.
When Rachelle stepped over the floorboard that always squeaked, their laughter died in an instant.
“Baby?” Riccardo ducked off the balcony to find her in the kitchen. There was still joy in his eyes, although it was clear he was trying to fix that on his face. “Where were you? I tried to call.”
Rachelle let her shoulders drop. “I was out,” she said. “With Diana. She offered me my job back.” With that, she burst into tears.
Rachelle felt like a stupid child, like someone who couldn’t control their emotions. Riccardo wrapped his arms around her and kissed a line across her forehead. She felt him guide her to the sofa, where she wrapped up in a blanket and closed her eyes, listening as Arturo made his way out the door and left them alone.
Riccardo returned to the sofa with wine, cheese, and chocolate. Rachelle burrowed her face in his shoulder until she willed herself to sip her wine and nibble the chocolate. Riccardo looked nervous but kind, as though he was aware he needed to say the right thing.
“You’re going to get through this,” he told her.
Rachelle sighed. She was too tired to believe that just now. “I don’t know.”
Riccardo kissed her cheek. “We’re going to work together in a kitchen one day,” he said. “Maybe not today. But soon. You’re a genius both in the kitchen and without.”
Rachelle took another bite of chocolate. She didn’t know what to say.
“Listen,” Riccardo said, after too much time had passed in silence. “I wanted to ask you something.”
Rachelle raised her eyes to his. “Okay.”
“Do you remember what I asked you last night? Before everything happened?”
Rachelle gaped at him. She couldn’t believe she’d forgotten.
Last night, he’d asked her to marry him. Last night, in front of everyone, on what was meant to be the greatest night of her life, he’d asked her. And she’d said,what?
Had she had a chance to answer?
“I’m still waiting,” Riccardo said, removing the velvet box from his pocket. He popped it open to reveal the iconic diamond ring.
Now, Rachelle had more time to look at it, to see it for what it was—vintage, obviously, with an old-world charm that made her think of old Italian romance films. Was Riccardo’s and her love good enough for a ring like this? Oh, but it must be. She and Riccardo had been together for three years at this point—ages twenty-seven to thirty—which felt like the right time forsomething like this. For the sort of romance that set the stage for the rest of her life.
“Of course I’ll marry you,” she said, watching as he slipped the ring over her finger.
But as Riccardo kissed her, Rachelle felt a strange tug of alarm in her stomach. Again, she wished she could call Darcy about this, to weigh up the pros and cons and figure out a way through. But she’d been sister-less for years at this point. It felt as though she’d lost a part of her heart.
4
Nantucket Island
The house Darcy shared with her husband, Steven, and their two children was a ten-minute walk down the beach from The Jessabelle House, on the opposite side of the invisible line between the “super wealthy” and the “mostly ordinary” of local Nantucketers. Meaning that Darcy and Steven didn’t have ultra-elite Nantucket wealth, but they did okay. They’d purchased the four-bedroom after Darcy had sold her most recent app, which had shot to number one in the App Store and revolutionized the way mothers shopped for their children. Since then, Darcy hadn’t worked much at all, choosing to stay at home with the kids and think about her next professional steps.
It was early June, and it was eighty-two degrees. Darcy’s eldest, Gavin, who was six going on seven, had just finished kindergarten, leaving Darcy and her two babies home alone, playing games, running along the beach and biding their time till Daddy got home. These were simple, glorious days in Darcy’s life, days that captivated her. She knew that one day, she wouldthink back on them and yearn to be back here, back with her little kids, back in her early thirties.
But these days at home also left her plenty of time to think about her sister, Rachelle, and how much time had passed since they’d spoken. It broke her in two.
Steve was out one night with friends, leaving Darcy to put the kids to bed and make herself a little snack of cheese and crackers, which she ate on the back porch, watching the waves. Something about the way the clouds billowed on the horizon, dark and angry, reminded her of the last time she’d seen Rachelle in Italy—a time that had splintered their relationship forever.
She usually didn’t let herself think about it.
