“We’ll be the ones in the middle of the dance circle with everyone cheering on our stellar moves.” Louie grabbed Nita by the hand and tugged her away.
“Have fun!” I called after them, turning back to Nita’s biggest fan and gesturing for another martini. Not that I needed one, the effects of the first ones already buzzed through my veins. But I wanted to disappear for a little bit and try to figure out what I was going to do about Liam. Even though getting on a plane to Italy seemed out of the question, I still needed to figure out what kind of a future we could have in two different countries.
Two martinis later, I leaned on the bar for balance, my eyes squinting while I stared at Liam’s picture on my phone. Nita and Louie danced their way through the crowd and landed beside me, sweat glistening on their skin from grinding on the dance floor.
“You missed such a fun time!” Louie said, still bumping his head to the beat. “I met a boy! His name is Eric and I think I’m going to marry him.”
“His name was Aaron, Louie.” Nita rolled her eyes.
“Oh, yeah. Well, whatever his name is, I’m going to marry him.” The alcohol slurred his speech while he continued dancing beside me. “What are you doing?”
“Just thinking about what you guys said and reading Liam’s messages over and over trying to figure out if he would want me to surprise him,” I said, noticing the slur in my own speech talking for the first time since they left me.
“And?” Nita asked, waving over my shoulder to her bartender who greeted her with a wide grin.
“And... I don’t know,” I answered honestly.
Nita’s bartender arrived again. “Can I get you anything?”
“I need to wake up. Three Jägerbombs, please,” she responded.
“Coming right up,” he answered.
I groaned at the thought of drinking more. Break-ups were certainly hard on the liver. Two weekends in a row of hard partying was taking its toll.
“What do the messages say?” Louie asked, noticing me still scrolling through the words he’d written me over the last week.
“That he misses me. He wants to see me. He can’t stop thinking about me...” My voice trailed off.
“Buy the fucking ticket, Ellie.” Nita shook her head. “For once in your life, just do something crazy... something just for you. And go get your answers... one way or another.”
I’d only been wild and crazy once in my life, and it was the summer I spent in Door County. That was the first and last time I threw caution to the wind and made decisions without a plan to back them up. Liam was carefree and impulsive, and he’d brought out my own spontaneity. I missed how he gave me confidence and made me leap without looking.
“I did look up tickets while you were dancing,” I admitted.
“And?” Louie asked.
“And there’s a flight at six in the morning that’s a last-minute deal I could get for seven hundred dollars.”
“Seven hundred dollars to Italy? Jesus, Ellie! Do it!” Nita slapped the bar.
The bombs arrived and Nita smiled at her bartender and pulled them from his grasp. She grabbed his hand before he turned away, sliding her business card into his palm. “My number. Call me,” she said with no trace of uncertainty in her voice.
“Absolutely,” he answered, bedroom eyes meeting hers and a sly grin pulling up the corners of his mouth. They exchanged a look and he turned and went back to work.
“See! How do you do that?” I said. “How are you not scared to just do something like that?”
“I see something I want, and I go for it. No fear. Just like you said you were going to do, remember? If it doesn’t work out, who cares? I’d rather go for what I want and fail than sit in a corner pining away always wondering what could have been. You should try it, Ellie. Buy the ticket. Grab life by the balls and go figure this shit out.”
My heart pounded as her words resonated deep within me. I wasn’t sure if it was the liquor or her words that gave me confidence, but I lifted up my phone and flipped to the screen where the ticket flashed as still available. A few pushes of a button and they were in my cart.
“Am I doing this?” I said, looking up at them while I felt my confidence melting away.
“Do it, Ellie! Do it! Do it! Do it!” Louie started the same chant that got me into this mess in the first place.
“Do it, Ellie,” Nita said, and I let her confidence replenish my own. I hit purchase and felt the room spin when it took me to the order confirmation page.
“Get my credit card,” I said, heart pounding and hands shaking. “Quick before I chicken out!”
“Oh my God! We’re doing it!” Louie screeched and pulled out my wallet, fumbling until he found my card.
With a deep breath I punched in the numbers and bit my lip when I got to the last button to make it official.
“Do it! Do it! Do it!” Louie encouraged me on, peering over my shoulder while my finger hovered over the button that would solidify this trip to Naples... this trip to Liam.
Bloop. My phone beeped when I pressed the button and the order went through. I felt the color leaving my face as the floor dropped out from under me. My stomach tumbled and turned, and I instantly regretted my decision.
“What did I do?” I whispered, staring at the flight confirmation that would take me to Liam in less than six hours.
“Yay! You did it!” Louie shouted, pushing a Jägerbomb toward me. “You’re going to have babies!”
Nita could tell my resolve had already fled the building, and she stepped forward and placed a hand on my shoulder. “You need to do this, Ellie. You need to know... one way or the other.”
Nodding, I grabbed the Jägerbomb and took my first deep breath since pressing the button. Lifting the glass in the air, I looked to them both. “Go big or go home.”
“Go big or go home!” They shouted, and our glasses clanked together.
I chugged the bittersweet liquid and set the empty glass back on the bar. “I need to go home and pack. And find my passport. And then I need to kill you both for letting me buy a non-refundable plane ticket to Italy while I’m wasted.”
“You’ll thank us when you’re back in his arms,” Louie said.
I hoped he was right because at the moment I wondered if I’d just made a terrible mistake. But then I saw his face flash through my mind, and I knew Nita was right. One way or another... I needed to know.
CHAPTER FIVE
Ellie
Even what I’d envisioned in my wildest dreams paled in comparison to the colorful buildings and classic architecture of Naples. Staring out the window of my taxi, I struggled to keep my mouth shut while we wound down the narrow roads and the colors blurred into one bright streak. Our little car bumped along the cobblestone streets, twisting and darting in and out of traffic and pedestrians. The sudden movements made my stomach turn, though I wasn’t sure if it was the erratic driving or the fact I was getting closer to Liam by the second.
The realization that just yesterday my old friend vodka got the better of me, I purchased a ticket to Italy, and jumped on a plane to surprise the man I hadn’t seen in ten years caused me to close my eyes and cringe each time my rash actions popped unexpectedly into my head. It happened about every twenty seconds, causing me to look like I had a facial tick to anyone unlucky enough to be near me in my repetitive panic.
When my buzz had started to wear off and the reality of my decision sank in, it had been four in the morning and I was already standing in the Chicago airport with Louie and Nita holding my hastily packed bags. Louie had insisted I’d be spending more time out of my clothes than in them, so only a few dresses and skirts, a couple pairs of jeans, a swim suit and a handful of tops had made their way onto the flight with me. Luckily, I had my passport handy from a trip to the Bahamas that got canceled last winter, and I found it right where I’d left it in the desk drawer.
With a few kisses and some encouraging last words, they had pushed me through the line into the gate check a
nd I’d turned to run back after I’d made my way through security. There they’d stood holding hands on the other side of the ropes, waving as I’d struggled to keep myself from bolting back to them. It had taken every ounce of willpower to force myself to keep going and get the closure I so desperately needed.
“Go big or go home!” Nita had shouted, and I’d taken a deep breath and marched off to my gate. Walking down the bridge to the plane, I had felt more like a prisoner walking down death row to my impending doom than a woman heading off to reunite with the love of her life. Somewhere over the ocean I’d chickened out again and spent an uncomfortable hour wishing an automatic parachute would deploy and float me safely back home. Except nothing but an eternity of blue sky and blue ocean could be seen from the window. But if I’d had access to an escape route, I’d have pulled that emergency hatch and jumped out, paddling home in a rubber inflatable boat. Being marooned on a desert island with a volleyball named Wilson seemed a better fate than showing up to surprise Liam and having him call me a lunatic and burst the impenetrable bubble I’d stored the memories of our love in all these years.
The poor guy seated next to me on the connecting flight had made the mistake of asking me about my final destination. The words had poured out of my mouth while I explained myself, and the look on his face confirmed my worst fears. He had obviously thought I was certifiably insane and needed medical assistance because he got up to go to the bathroom and never returned. With a face palm, I considered not leaving the airport in Italy and just turning around to catch the next flight back to the states. My racing heart and churning stomach solidified this was officially the worst idea I’d ever had.
When we had reached Gatwick to change planes the entirety of my buzz had evaporated and I’d begged the poor lady at the reservations desk to put me back on the plane to the US. It would be eighteen hundred dollars, she’d said, and I knew I’d already maxed out my one credit card purchasing this ticket. As I’d realized the grim reality and futility of my self-induced spur of the moment grand romantic gesture, I’d decided to suck it up and soldier on. This time when my seat partner had asked where I was going, I’d simply stated “Italy” and left out the details about misdemeanor stalking and lunacy inspired by too much oxytocin. We’d made it through the whole flight without him going to the bathroom and never returning.
With a trembling sigh, I realized only a few miles separated me from the address I gave the cab driver. After a few Google searches we’d pieced together the location of Liam’s workplace based on the name I had from our messages and his profile information. When I’d climbed into the back of the cab, with shaky hands, I’d handed the piece of paper with the address to the little Italian man with a mustache. Luckily, he’d spoken English and said he recognized the address. Wasting no time, he’d punched the gas and we’d barreled away from the airport at speeds that rivaled my hammering heart.
Another bump in the road bounced me off the seat and I grabbed the back of the headrest to steady myself.
“Scusa!” he called back but kept up the terrifying pace that made cab drivers in Chicago look like elderly people out for a Sunday drive.
“It’s okay,” I answered, but struggled to keep the contents of my plane meal from coming back up.
The rapid pace of the passing scenery flying by the cab window kept me from appreciating more of the surroundings, and looking out the smudged glass only aggravated the nausea. I stared forward, swallowing hard while we skidded around the corner onto a busy street much wider than the ones we’d just cavorted down. With no warning, he slammed on the brakes and I fell forward, colliding with the plush seat in front of me.
“We here!” he shouted merrily, his thick Italian accent distorting the words. He made no apologies for my crumpled state and hopped out of the cab, running back to the trunk leaving me struggling to right myself. I climbed out of the cab and took a deep breath, partly from relief I’d survived the harrowing ride, and partly to inhale the sweet smells of baked goods that filled the air surrounding me. It smelled like my grandmother’s house on a Sunday morning when she used to bake fresh cinnamon rolls any time we visited.
The slamming of the trunk startled me, and I turned to see my cab driver setting my bag on the curb. I pulled out the Euros I’d gotten from the ATM at the airport in Naples and handed him twenty, which took care of the fare and the tip.
“Grazie!” he said, and scurried back to the driver’s seat, squealing away and leaving me standing on the side of the road, once again questioning my sanity and thinking a trip to the local mental institution may be next on the to-do list. Looking around, I finally soaked in the exquisite architecture stretching tall above me.
A woman stood on her balcony overhead, beautiful black hair cascading in waves while she talked on the phone and puffed away at her cigarette. A little brown dog ran past me and I followed his movement through a group of children skipping down the sidewalk. Everywhere I looked people smiled and laughed. They seemed so relaxed, like they were enjoying their day, the more leisurely pace a stark contrast to the frantic ways of downtown Chicago. There, people were always in a hurry, always rushing, and here they seemed to move slower, more deliberate, like they had all the time in the world. Their calm manner soothed me, and I took a deep breath. For a blissful moment, I just took in the fact I was in Italy.
The smell of those cinnamon rolls wafted back into my nostrils and I turned around to see the open-air café behind me. Small tables topped with white umbrellas dotted the sidewalk and a dozen people sat amongst them, each enjoying their day while they sipped on their coffees and nibbled on their pastries. I remembered Liam mentioning a café across from the office of the construction company he worked for and he’d said he often used to meet with clients there. Turning to look across the street, I saw the name of the building marked in big white letters.
Alfonsi Costruzione.
Swallowing down the lump of emotion in my throat, I acknowledged the moment of truth looming before me. That was the name of the company listed on his profile for employer. His grandfather’s company from what I’d understood in our brief discussions about his work. Panic about my decision reared its head again, and I worried he might come out at any moment and see me. I wasn’t ready. I grabbed my bag and bolted into the bakery, pressing my back against the wall and peering out around the doorframe at the building across the street.
“Posso aiutarti?” a woman’s voice asked, and I turned to see her staring at me from behind the counter.
“Parla inglese?” I said, grateful I’d memorized a few key phrases on the flight over here.
“Yes, I speak English. Can I help you?” she answered, a bright smile lighting her dark complexion.
Realizing how suspicious I appeared hiding around the corner, I pulled out my wallet and walked up to the counter. Shelf after shelf of warm baked goods greeted me, their smells intoxicating and blending into a sweetness that made my stomach grumble.
“Sorry, I just arrived and I’m not really sure what I’m doing here,” I admitted. “Do you serve coffee?”
“Of course,” she answered.
“Wonderful. Can I have a cup and one of those?” I pointed to the glazed roll calling out to me.
“For here?” she asked.
After a moment considering my options, I nodded. In order to stalk Liam properly, setting up shop at the bakery across the street seemed perfect for my recognizance mission. I wished now I’d packed an oversized hat I could hide under but hadn’t had time to think this through. I didn’t exactly run around stalking ex-flames on a regular basis.
When she handed me the coffee and the roll, I slipped her the money and carried them to the only open table left along the street. The warm afternoon sun beat down on me and I hid underneath the wide umbrella, grateful for the shade. Placing my bag beside me, I sat down at the table and stared at the building across the street.
Nothing.
Zilch.
Nada.
Th
at little voice in my head that had been screaming at me since I’d left yesterday continued its verbal assault about my sanity while I watched the people coming and going from the office building. And with each one, a little sliver of annoyance laced with fear snaked up my spine. They weren’t him. All those notions of surprising him and a grand romantic gesture now paled beneath the realization I felt like a straight-up stalker. Perhaps the movie Louie envisioned I was living wasn’t the perfect Julia Roberts or Meg Ryan rom-com, but more like a slightly less lethal version of Fatal Attraction.
“What the hell am I doing?” I mumbled to myself, realizing that the fact I was talking to myself was not a good sign either.
After taking a sip of my coffee to soothe my nerves, I pulled out my phone and clicked the group message I’d made to let Nita and Louie know I’d landed safe. I took a bite of my cinnamon bun and moaned at the impossibly delicate tastes that flooded my mouth while I started typing away at the screen.
I’m here. Across from his office. I’m a stalker. I’m the girl that guys tell horror stories about. I’m that girl. How could I let you guys talk me into this? I’m never drinking again.
The bubbles started immediately and soon the message from Louie popped up.
Do you see him? Is he there? OMG! OMGGGG!
No, I don’t see him. I’m just sitting here like a creeper and there’s no sign of him. I think I should abort mission and come home. This is crazy! Abort! Abort!
Nita jumped in on the conversation.
Don’t you dare! Go big or go home!
HOME! I CHOOSE HOME!!
Louie responded next.
You’re not Dorothy and you’re not clicking your heels and coming home. You have seven days in Italy. You’re already there. For the love of God, woman! Grow a pair!
What if he’s not even in town? Maybe he won’t be in the office all week and I’ll just be sitting alone at this café every day?
The Big One (Second Chance Romantic Comedy) Page 5