Page 117 of The English Bookstore in Bologna

“Okay, and I’m sorry. I’m not trying to push you out of my—”

“That’s pretty much what I’m hearing.”

“No, I still want to be your friend; I’m pulling for you.”

“Oh, thanks. That’s my pity prize. I appreciate that. Maybe we could have coffee on Tuesdays, talk about the fucking weather.”

“Don’t do that.”

She started to the door. “You’re right, okay. I’m a mess and trying to figure it out. Have a nice life.”

He raised his voice. “It’s not the mess that’s the problem. It’s that you won’t give yourself a break. Be happy where you are—with who you are. Your book is brilliant, Queen Bee. So many thoughtful insights, but it didn’t need to be so long. I liked Peggy in the middle more than I liked the robot she became.”

It was all too much. “Take care, Corrado.”

He raised his hands and dropped them on his lap in frustration.

She wanted to congratulate him on the grand opening of his restaurant, but what was the point? Better to just get out of there.

Walking home, Bianca dialed her mother. “How are things going?” Faith asked. “It’s been a while.”

“How are things going?” Bianca repeated. “Let’s see. I’ve totally messed up with Dad, my agent broke up with me, and the only man I’ve ever loved tore me a new one and told me it was over. So that’s my life. No, wait, I get to go talk about the book I hate at this book club here in a little while.”

“Oh, my,” her mom replied. “Why don’t you come to Palm Springs after? Take a breather.”

“Um, no,” Bianca said, “I don’t want to come to Palm Springs. I need a break. From everyone. From me too. I want to go to sleep for a year and then wake up and see if it’s better.”

“What happened with George?”

Bianca was plowing through tourists on her march back home. “We were having a great time, but then he caught me at the wrong moment and started going off about how I need to stay away from Corrado. He doesn’t even know him. And then I lost it, said a bunch of things I regret.” Bianca told Faith exactly what she’d said.

“Ouch, B.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“You know why he meddles, right?” Faith asked.

“Oh, yeah. It’s why he screws up everything. Because he thinks he knows what’s best.”

“Yeah, well . . . maybe cut him some slack. When’s he leaving?”

“In two days. And we’re getting along, mostly, but it’s just weird. I’m so mad at him—and not only for trying to manage my love life. I feel like it’s all coming up, how he wasn’t there for me when I was younger, and even when he was, our time together was another item on his to-do list.”

Faith tried to jump in, but Bianca already knew what she was going to say. “Yeah, yeah, he was focused on making sure we had a comfortable life, but I wanted a dad.” Then it occurred to her. “Maybe that’s why I try so hard to be somebody. Because I want his attention. How have I not seen that?”

Crossing Piazza Maggiore, Bianca thrust her hands in the air. “It was right in front of my face!” She didn’t care that people were staring; she had every reason in the world to be animated right now.

“You do have his attention,” her mom was saying when Bianca put the phone back to her ear, “and you know he loves you.”

“Do I?”

A text came in from Corrado. I’m still holding you a table. Just let me know how many people. I need you there. Missing what her mom was saying, she stabbed out a quick reply. Mixed messages much?

A hint of anger appeared in her mother’s voice as she said, “You know, Bianca, sometimes you make things about yourself and forget about everyone else.”

“Oh, great, thanks. Please kick me while I’m down.”

“I’m going to tell you something, but you have to promise me you won’t let on that you know. It’s important, though. You have two days left with him, and I want you to make them count.”