She checks her watch, then turns to Lucy and Sofia and, finally, Poppy. She heaves a sigh.
“Which way to the car?”
The parking lot is a frenzy of panicked travelers, clamoring for taxis, shouting who came first and who needs to go to the back of the line. Sofia shudders and hands Daria the keys. “I am sorry to leave you,” she tells us, “but I must get back to my little men.”
“We’ll drive you back to the inn,” Lucy says.
“No. Gabriele will pick me up down the block, where it is not so busy. You must get on the road. It’s a six-hour drive to Ravello.”
She hugs me first, and then bids Poppy a tearful good-bye. It seems to take all of Poppy’s strength to reach into her purse and fish out her bag of pennies. She places one in Sofia’s hand.
“For luck,” she says. “Now, go spread your sunshine in this world.”
Sofia kisses each of Poppy’s cheeks. “I will.”
Her eyes are misty when she turns to Lucy. “See you in November.” She tucks a stray hair behind Lucy’s ear. “Be safe.”
Lucy nods. “Grazie,” she says, her voice thick. “Grazie.”
Sofia walks away, then turns around. “Ciao! Be careful. The bends in the roads can be treacherous.”
While Daria punches an address into Gabe’s GPS, Lucy and I settle Aunt Poppy into the backseat. She winces and rubs her temples. We buckle her seat belt and wrap our coats around her. Despite the balmy weather, she’s shivering. My aunt should be tucked in a warm bed, maybe even a hospital bed. But no. We’ve come all this way for one reason. We cannot give up now.
“Try to rest,” I tell her. She leans her head on the window and closes her eyes.
Daria maneuvers through the city streets of Florence with confidence, obeying the directions displayed on the GPS. I sit up front with her, following along on my finally useful map. She exits SS67 at Viale Francesco Redi and heads north. According to my map, she should have stayed on SS67. I open my mouth to tell her, but close it. Daria doesn’t like to be second-guessed. She’s come all this way. She’s here, in Italy. We’re going to spend the next two days together.
“Thanks again,” I say. “I can’t tell you how much this means to me. It’s unreal. For starters, you must have spent a fortune to get here.”
“Nonna paid.”
“Nonna?” I laugh. “I would have thought Nonna would consider this trip a colossale waste of money.”
“Nope.”
“But you took time off work, just for this. And time away from the girls, and Donnie.”
“Forget it.”
“No. Seriously, I really, really appreciate it.” I pivot, so that I’m facing her profile. “I know we’re not as close as we once were, Dar. But deep inside, I’ve always known you’ve had my back. This just proves—”
“Stop, Em. Just … stop, please.”
“Okay. Sorry.” I sit back, stung. We ride in silence for another mile before I realize I’ve got my finger on my scar. I clasp my hands and gaze out the window, watching a plane take off. Then another. Ahead, I see the sign for the Aeroporto di Firenze—Peretola. I check my map.
“Dar, I think we might be going the wrong way.”
She ignores me. I’m confused when she takes a right into the airport entrance. From the backseat, Lucy pipes up.
“It’s a waste of time, Daria. A guy at the station told us all domestic flights are sold out.”
Daria doesn’t reply. She follows the signs to the international departure deck. Suddenly, I feel sick.
“What’s going on, Dar? We need to get to Ravello. Tomorrow’s Poppy’s birthday.”
The terminal comes into view. Daria zips into a spot at the curb and shuts off the ignition. She grabs her phone and scrolls, then holds the screen out to me.
“This is my plane ticket home.” She swipes to the next page. “And this one is yours.”
I stare, openmouthed, at the e-ticket for Emilia Antonelli, with today’s departure date. “I—I can’t go home.”
“Lucy will take Poppy from here. Nonna needs you.”
I clutch my head, thoughts rushing me. Why, exactly, is Daria here? Because she was worried about me? Because she cares about me? A wave of nausea rolls over me.
“You … you came all this way, just to bring me home?”
She stares at the Alfa Romeo in front of us, attempting to parallel park. “Nonna insists.”
“Is she crazy? This is the most important part of the trip. Tomorrow is Poppy’s birthday. It’s the only reason we’re here.”
She turns to me. “Think about it, Emmie. The trains aren’t working. The flights are full. None of you can drive.” She tips her head toward Poppy, asleep in the back. “This one’s running out of juice. You think the universe might be trying to tell you something? Nothing good is going to come of this trip. Nothing.”
A shiver runs up my spine. From the backseat, Lucy’s voice rises, strong and firm. “Cut the crap, Daria.” She leans in between the two front seats, her eyes narrowed. “This trip has changed everything. We’re no longer cursed. You should’ve seen Em, with Sofie’s brother. She was flirty and fun. You wouldn’t have recognized her, I swear.”
“Really?” Daria turns to me. “And how did that turn out for you?”
I picture Gabe’s beautiful eyes, brimming with counterfeit love and false promises. I drop my head in my hand. What more does the curse have in store for me?
“We have to get Poppy to Ravello,” I mumble.
Daria lifts her shoulders. “Good luck, without a driver.”
I clench my jaw. I want to scream out, I will drive! But the words won’t come. I rub the back of my neck, my hair sticky with sweat.
“Let’s go,” Daria says, unbuckling her seat belt. “Our flight leaves in ninety minutes.” She opens her door and steps out of the SUV.
My heart thunders. I glance back at Lucy. “Maybe we should go home, Luce—all of us. We’ll change the tickets. The sooner Poppy gets back, the sooner she can get to the doctor.”
“I am not leaving.” Lucy’s face is branded with determination.
“Hurry up,” Daria says.
I chew my lip. Daria’s waiting for me. She needs me. Finally, I let out a sigh. I unbuckle my seat belt and turn to Lucy. “Okay. Um, you and Poppy will go back to the inn? Poppy has Gabe’s number.”
Lucy glares at me. “I cannot believe you’re letting your sister manipulate you.”
“She’s not manipulating me. I can’t drive, Luce! It wouldn’t matter if I stayed. We can’t get to Ravello. So why wouldn’t I return early and make Nonna happy?”
“Don’t you dare try to justify this, Em.” Her nostrils flare. “I thought you’d changed.”
A dagger enters my heart. I peek at Poppy. Thankfully she’s still asleep. What would she say if she knew I was bailing on her now?
Daria leans into the car, her backpack slung over her shoulder. “C’mon, Emmie.”
I rub my scar, paralyzed with indecision.
“You’ll be back in time for work tomorrow,” she continues. “Nonna will be so relieved. And trust me, Emmie, she’ll be forever grateful. Nonna values loyalty above all else.” My sister lowers her voice. “It absolutely broke her heart to think you chose her sister over her. I mean, my god, Em, the woman’s been like a mother to us.”
My breath catches. “No. She was a mother to you. Not to me.”
“Whatever,” Daria says. “Let’s go.”
Blood races past my temples. “And you haven’t been a sister to me, Dar. Not in years.”
“Right. I came all the way here, and that’s my thanks?”
I dig my nails into my palms. “You came here to ruin my trip.” I speak through clenched teeth, years of anger bubbling to the surface. “You couldn’t bear to see me, the inferior second-born daughter, doing something fun for myself. You’ve been brainwashed by Nonna, just like Dad. Just like I was.”
“You’re delusional.”
I let out a man
iacal little laugh. “I was, yes. But not anymore. I see things clearly now. The curse works for you. Because you’re the superior one, the anointed firstborn daughter. You’re Nonna’s protégé, her pride and joy. And you’re so afraid of losing your status that you’ve sacrificed me, my life, our entire relationship, just to please her. I’m nothing but your personal handmaid.”
“Go to hell, Em.”
My hand shakes when I open the car door. My heart beats a wild and erratic rhythm. I step out and round the car until I reach Daria. I look into the eyes of the person I love more than anyone else in the world.
“No.” My mouth twitches and my chin trembles, but my words are steady and strong. “I am not going to hell. I’m going to Ravello.”
Daria’s eyes bore into mine. Perhaps she’s hoping I’ll burst out laughing and tell her it’s all a joke. And I almost wish I could. Almost.
I muscle past her and slide in behind the wheel.
“Don’t do this, Emmie,” she says as I close the door.
I start the engine. My stomach drops. I slide the gearshift into drive.
“Stop. You’re making a huge mistake.”
Ever so gently, I press my foot on the accelerator. The car inches forward. I watch, feeling sick and petrified and oddly detached, as my sister disappears from my rearview mirror.
I get as far as the next terminal before I pull over. I drop my head onto the steering wheel. My knees quake. What the hell have I done? From the backseat, I hear clapping. I look over my shoulder.
“Brava! Brava, my pollia berry.” Poppy reaches out and clasps my shoulder. “You are shining right now. You are positively shining.”
I blink back tears, unable to speak.
Lucy chuckles. “Looks like ol’ Emmie has grown a pair of balls.” She raises her palm to me. “Way to show that bitch who’s in control.”
I give her a halfhearted high five, though it feels treasonous to celebrate. Daria is my sister. I love her. Unconditionally. But for the life of me, I cannot defend her today.
Lucy climbs over the seat back and lands in a heap beside me. She straightens her shirt and turns to me.
“So, you were joking about not being able to drive, right?”
Chapter 34
Emilia
I’m telling Lucy about the bargain I struck after Liam’s accident, when an airport security guard knocks on the car window. “Partite!” he says. “Go!”
“Shit.” My breath catches and I give him a little wave.
“So everything you told Daria was bullshit?” Lucy’s propped against the passenger door, facing me. “Tell me, Em, do you believe in the curse or not?”
“I honestly don’t know, Luce.” I rub my temples, realizing how screwed up I must sound. “And I don’t want to push our luck.”
“I don’t get it. I mean, sure, you freaked out after that accident and promised never to see Liam. But what the hell does driving have to do with the curse?”
“You just met Sofie. You’re happy, right?”
“Um, like, for the first time in forever.”
“And that’s exactly when it happens. Now, just to prove its power, the curse will strike. That’s when we get in an accident, and you’re hurt or disfigured or …”
“Dead? Is that what you’re afraid of? That you’ll kill me?”
“Yes … no … I’m afraid my curse will kill you. Just like it almost killed Liam.” I take a deep breath. “I would never forgive myself if I were the cause of—”
Lucy throws up her hands. “Oh, get over yourself, Em. I’m telling you in advance, before I’m brain-dead or missing a nose or nothing but an urn of ashes, I forgive you.”
We lock eyes for a moment, two once-cursed daughters, testing our fate.
“Let go, Emilia.” We turn to the backseat. Has Poppy been listening the whole time?
“Let go,” she repeats, the two words packed with hope and possibility and danger. Let go of fear. Let go of guilt. Let go of false beliefs.
Outside, the airport guard marches up to our car. He blows his whistle and jabs his finger. “Partite!”
My stomach pitches and I lift a finger. “Okay,” I mouth to him. I look away. “Damn!”
I take a deep breath. Very slowly, and with the greatest trepidation, I press down on the accelerator. And let go.
An hour and a half later, I finally loosen my grip on the steering wheel. From the backseat, Poppy softly snores. I rock my neck, trying to work out the kink, and catch sight of the GPS. “Wait … we’ve only traveled eighty-three kilometers?”
“Uh, yeah, about that,” Lucy says. “According to my calculations, we should make it to Ravello in plenty of time for Poppy’s birthday. Her ninety-seventh birthday.”
“We need to get there safely.” I stare at the road. “Will you text Dar for me? My phone’s in my purse. Tell her I’m—” The word “sorry” sticks in my throat. What was that favor Poppy once asked of me? Stop apologizing when you’re not sorry. “Tell her safe travels. And that I’ll see her in three days.”
“Here’s hoping,” Lucy mumbles as she types the text. “I’ll tell her you finally had an orgasm.” She looks up at me. “If you die now, at least you’ve got that, right?”
I try to smile, but it’s still too raw. Was it just yesterday that I was falling in love? For a brief moment, I was an “us.” I blink quickly. I can’t be sad, not now, not when Lucy’s ecstatic and Poppy’s filled with hope. With all my will, I block out the sound of Gabriele’s voice, forget the feel of his skin against mine. And then, I tuck the memories away in some secret corner of my heart, to be opened later.
“Luce, do you know that I’m thrilled for you? I mean, really, truly thrilled. Sofia is one cool woman. And so are you.”
“Thanks. I’m a little freaked if you want to know the truth. Carol and Vinnie will have three strokes apiece when they find out.”
“They’ll come around. Your parents will see what I see. You’re Lucy again, the real Lucy.”
She breaks into a smile. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. I’m proud of you. All love takes courage. Your kind of love takes a special kind of valiancy.”
“Valiancy? That’s good, right?”
“Really good.”
She turns to the window. “You know, for years now I’ve tried to ignore what felt natural. And it’s not that I suddenly decided to become a dick dodger. I didn’t set out to fall for a chick. It’s more like I just stopped resisting.”
We travel in silence another mile before Lucy speaks again, her voice soft. “I suppose I should welcome you to the Laid and Played Club.”
Is she poking fun at me? My fingers tighten around the steering wheel.
“It’s not exactly a club you’d want to join,” she continues. “But I’m guessing at one time or another, most people are initiated.”
I wait until a truck passes before I peek at her. Her eyes hold a tenderness I’ve never seen. I let out a sigh. “I was so stupid.”
“You were inexperienced. You didn’t know the rules. You’ll learn. And if it makes you feel better, I’ve been laid and played, too.”
“That Jack guy,” I say—a statement, not a question.
She nods. “And about a million and twenty-seven other douche bags.”
My laugh gets captured in a groan. “Oh, Luce, what am I going to do? Where am I supposed to put all these feelings?” I shake my head. “I know what you’re thinking: I’m being dramatic. I only knew him for three days.”
“Doesn’t matter,” she says. “It’s all about connection. When you have it, and then it’s ripped away, you feel like your lungs cannot fill, like you’re emptied of every atom of joy. You can’t breathe, let alone eat or sleep. And you’re certain, absolutely sure-as-shit certain, that you will never be the same again.”
I sneak a glance at her. “But eventually you are, right?”
She shakes her head. “No, Em. You are never the same.”
I groan. Dread fills me, and I imagin
e a lifetime of misery.
She pats my knee. “You become better. A hell of a lot better.”
Five hours later, just when I’m finally starting to relax behind the wheel, we reach the province of Salerno. To the west, I glimpse the silhouette of Naples. Only fifty-nine kilometers until we reach Ravello. Almost instantly, the landscape changes. Gone is the long stretch of Highway A1, replaced by narrow passages with harrowing switchback curves carved along the cliff’s edge.
The vehicle groans as we climb the jagged mountain. Lucy sits up straight, her face taut.
“You’ve got this,” she tells me. But she’s clutching the dash in front of her as if clinging to the rocky ledge. My hands sweat. I gasp when I catch sight of the foamy Gulf of Salerno beyond the jagged cliff.
“Damn!” I cry, fighting a wave of dizziness.
“Don’t look down,” she says.
My heart thunders in my chest. “I hate this!”
“On the bright side,” Lucy says, “if we crash, we’ll take out Gabe’s precious SUV.”
My eyes strain to focus on the road in front of me. I hold my breath as we navigate around another hairpin curve. I let up on the gas when we come upon a tour bus. It’s following an RV, and we slow to a crawl. Behind me, a line of cars begins to build. I glance in the rearview mirror. The driver behind me is right on my tail. He’s ducking in and out of the lane, obviously anxious to pass me … and the bus … and the RV.
“Relax,” Lucy says. “Ignore all those cars you’re holding up.”
“What am I supposed to do? I can’t pass.”
The car behind me honks. Lucy whips around and holds up her middle finger.
“Stop. You’ll encourage road rage.”
The driver lays on his horn again. It’s too dangerous for him to pass me, along with the bus and RV. He wants me to lead the way. “Damn it!”
We round a curve, and straight pavement stretches before us.
“Go!” Lucy says. “Pass these snails! Now!”
“What? No!”
From the long line of cars behind us, a chorus of horns begins—plural. My chest squeezes. It’s up to me to move the traffic. My entire body trembles. I put on my blinker and, with utmost caution and trepidation, enter the passing lane.
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