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I think this is one of those moments I'll tell Damiano about.

CHAPTER 22

Eleonora

The past two days have flown by in a blur of winding roads, breathtaking views and more places than I can honestly keep track of. Taormina, Palermo, Scala dei Turchi, and so many towns and villages in between that I've stopped trying to remember all their names.

This island is rich in everything. Life, colour, taste, noise.

The blue of the sea seems to change everywhere we go. Old buildings are squeezed together along narrow streets, with balconies and laundry hanging above our heads. Churches stand in the middle of busy squares, mountains rise behind little towns, and people argue with their entire bodies one minute and kiss each other on both cheeks the next.

And the food.

So. Much. Fucking. Food.

I know now what Damiano meant when he told me you had to be here to fully understand its beauty.

I've never felt so alive.

And I've never missed him this much.

The thought catches me off guard because, somehow, those two things don't contradict each other anymore. Maybe they never did. I just didn't know how to make room for both.

When Damiano died, I shut everything out. The world kept moving, but I didn't want to move with it. I was so afraid of living without him that I barely let myself grieve for him.

I just existed.

And then…

My eyes drift across the sea from the balcony of our hotel room. The afternoon sun glitters on the water, and farther down the beach, colorful umbrellas cover the sand. Voices drift up from below, mixing with the steady sound of the waves.

“Jude has been helping me so much, Vita,” I whisper into the wind.

Just saying his name makes something stir in my chest. Damiano told me plenty about his best friend over the years, but somehow, he never managed to explain just how big Jude's heart is.

I can practically hear his answer.

Told you J. was awesome.

I shake my head. “Yeah, yeah. Don't get smug.”

My smile fades when I look down at what I'm holding. The urn.

“This is it, Vita.” My fingers tighten around it. “The last piece.”

Chicago. Lander. And now Sicily.

There's still a part of him waiting for me back home, the one I promised myself I'd keep. But this is the last place he asked me to take him.

“I brought you home.”

My throat closes around the words. Somehow, this is the hardest one of them all. Maybe because this is the place that belongs to him more than any of the others.

Our last adventure together.

“I don't know if I'm ready.”

A tear rolls down my cheek. “But I know in my heart that you're here. And this is what you wanted, so…”