Page 31 of The English Bookstore in Bologna

Great job, George, he told himself, as he watched her stalk away.

Chapter 9

Madmiral Briggs

Lying in bed the next morning, Bianca didn’t want to open her eyes. She thought she could deal with her dad, but one day in and she was exhausted. It took about all she had to shift her mindset, but eventually she reframed the situation.

She was a warrior and today was a day for warriors. Her father’s visit, on top of everything else, was the ultimate showdown, her opportunity to grow, to mend the broken parts of that little girl inside of her for good.

If she could survive this, then she might finally be set free.

In her book, Bianca had helped Peggy Meh change the stories she’d been telling herself, urging her to become Cap’n Megawatt, the director of her own thoughts. Bianca Briggs would take her own advice and become Peggy’s direct superior, Admiral Gigawatt. How silly!

“Her royal wattness, Admiral Gigawatt,” she said out loud, seeing a supercharged Bianca standing at the helm of her boat.

She chuckled and pulled a leg out from the sheets.

God, this was fun. New ideas for Insta posts and even a live Substack sprang to mind. Creativity shot up her spine. Maybe she did have another book in her.

Hold on. There were far better ways to suffer than to go to war with another blank page, only to be shat on by reviewers. She’d been trying not to read reviews, but she’d gone down the rabbit hole late last night and found a one-star that called From Meh to Mega a nothing burger. Ouch.

Recalling some of the other reviews, a wave of shame knocked the last of her smile off her face. Maybe it was fun thinking about becoming Admiral Gigawatt, but she wasn’t a funny person. Aside from Moira and the other Megawatters, the self-help reading collective had either rolled their eyes at her attempt at humor or hadn’t even picked up that she was being playful—and even silly—in the first place. So what was she doing laughing at herself?

Fighting to stay positive, she set her bare feet on the rug and stretched.

“What a blessing,” she said, careful not to speak too loudly. “I am so fortunate for this opportunity to grow.” Captain Peggy Megawatt had said exactly these words multiple times. Admiral Gigawatt—no, Madmiral Gigawatt from the helm of her ship—added, “I’m eager to spend more time with my dad. We have a lot of catching up to do.”

Charged with determination, she dressed for the day and made a Nespresso shot, telling herself she’d figure out how to use the Moka pot in the cabinet soon.

She’d not planned it this way, this battle. Her time in Italy was a time to heal and recharge, but it had become more than that, a battle against—no, a dance with—her father issues too.

Today, she would focus on looking at George Briggs, the ultimate to-do-lister, through the lens of understanding, knowing that she had the same desperate need to check things off, to accomplish, and knowing that everyone had their faults and hers and George’s were mostly to do with being insecure overachievers.

The floorboards on the other side of the apartment creaked. Her dad was up; it was go-time for the madmiral.

In the living room, George said, “I’m sorry about what I said yesterday. I was tired and let my mouth start running. You have your own path, and I need to be okay with it. It’s not my business anyway.”

Bianca slipped her arms around him. He still smelled like “Dad” after all these years, like a pine tree. “I can handle some advice from time to time, but I need you to understand that this is where my ancestors come from, at least half of them, and when I’m here, my soul glows. Don’t hate on my journey.”

“I’m not hating on it,” he said. “Just micromanaging you, as I’ve been known to do. But I’ll do my best not to meddle.”

Bianca appreciated his honesty and self-awareness. “Thank you. Now let’s get on to a great day. I thought we might leave in an hour or so and go do all the touristy things, see a few museums, that kind of thing. Then we’ll have lunch, take a nap, and then I have my signing this afternoon at four. How does that sound?” She was trying not to think about the signing, how empty it would be.

“Yeah, sure, to all of it. And I thought I might help you get organized around here too. Just a bit of the old George touch, sweep off the balcony, get your closets and cabinets straight.”

Bianca smiled, at first resisting but then remembering that George was George, and she had to let him do his thing. This was his way of expressing his love.

“I could definitely use the help, but no rush. Rome wasn’t built in a day.”

“Had I been there, I could have built Rome by noon on Monday.” Then he winked.

Only once they had reached the Fountain of Neptune did George start to niggle at Bianca’s sanity again. What had happened to her earlier pep talk?

They’d had a perfectly nice morning, enjoyed a pastry at Le Briciole and eaten it while talking about the latest news in Phoenix and Scottsdale, and shared some wonderful memories from back when her mom had still been in the picture. They’d even laughed, and Bianca felt so proud of both of them, escaping the headbutting of the previous day and facing forward.

But then something had changed in George, a shift in his easy demeanor, as if that last cup of coffee had done him in.

As Bianca passionately relayed what she knew about the Fountain of Neptune, an evocative work with nude mermaids staring up at the well-endowed Roman god of the sea, George’s eyes kept drifting away.