“We change them,” Pris said. “We choose us for once and know it will all be waiting for us when we get back. I don’t know what happened here with Mom and this man she loved, but I’m starting to believe it was more than just a physical affair. It went deeper. And I still don’t think she cheated on Dad, but there’s something about being in this house together. It makes me feel . . . stronger. More me. I just know I like who I am when I’m here, and I need a little more time.”
Bailey shook her head and finished her wine. “This is crazy,” she muttered. “But yeah, I’m in. God knows, after this morning I feel like I need a week just to recover.”
Pris laughed and turned to her. “Please, Dev,” she pleaded, tightening her grip. “I know this is hardest on you. But you can do some work here, and see Hawke, and we can build on what we’ve done with each other. I love you. I hate the way it’s been between us, and I hate that I didn’t fight to mend things. I just pushed our problems aside and pretended there was nothing to do, but I was wrong. Let’s fix this now. I want my sisters back.”
Dev groaned and rubbed her temples. Bailey and Pris stared at her like matching puppy dogs. Already on overload from the emotional upheavals, her heart was achy and tender, and her brain was shutting down from too much sensory overload.
So she looked into her gut.
And found the answer.
“I’ll stay,” she said. “But I’m not promising you any more of these touchy-feely sessions. And I get to plan the agenda for the rest of the trip without any bitching.”
Her sisters shrieked and laughed and hugged her, promising her they would do as she said.
As soon as they settled, Dev got on the phone with the airlines to get the best price change possible.
chapter twenty-eight
Olivia
Looking back, I kept wondering how different things would have been if I hadn’t surprised my husband for lunch that day.
It’s funny how one decision sets off a firestorm of effects that can change a course forever. If we hadn’t taken that shortcut. If we hadn’t picked up that phone call. If we hadn’t gone to that party. I realized I could spend all my time analyzing how it would have all worked out differently if I hadn’t hidden in his office to surprise him with a picnic lunch while Pris was in pre-K. If his secretary hadn’t been away from her desk and unable to warn him.
If Adam hadn’t come into his office with that woman, shut the door, and kissed her while I stupidly watched from his desk chair.
The fallout was movie-worthy. The shocked wife. The beautiful mistress. The begging, apologetic husband.
The rest of the day followed the script. Adam swore he didn’t love her, that when we were having problems he’d been weak and fell into the affair. He’d been trying to break it off, but she kept pursuing, hinting that she’d tell me if he didn’t continue. I listened, numb to his excuses, only thinking about how if he’d lied so easily to me once, how many times had he done it before. Wondering what I was going to do about Pris.
I threw him out of the house and spent the next few days crying and mourning the loss of trust in my marriage. The bigger obstacle was what came next. Could I forgive? Did I want to try to save what we had? I’d believed things were better between us, but now I questioned every one of Adam’s actions.
The world I’d built had been ripped apart, and suddenly I wondered who I was anymore. The quiet, reflective girl of my youth? The dynamic, thriving career woman caught in the excitement of change? The doting mother whose love for her child was her only focus?
Or someone new? Someone not yet formed from the ashes of grief and my husband’s decision to cheat?
Maybe my next action was wrong, but I did it anyway. I called my aunt Silvia and asked if I could stay in her home for a little while. When she agreed, I made arrangements to bring Pris to my mom’s. Then I told my husband I needed some time alone to figure out what I wanted and that I was going to Italy.
I ignored his pleas for forgiveness and vows he’d broken up with her. At this point, I realized saving our marriage was bigger than his cheating and had nothing to do with him.
It had to do with me and my decision to move forward. Or not.
Two days later, I arrived in Positano, on a rainy May afternoon. I dragged my lone suitcase up the familiar stairs, my gaze hungrily roving over the spill of colored homes, the sloping hillside, the sparkle of the sea as it grew smaller with every step ascended.
The cottage welcomed me with a rush of happy memories. I imagined Aunt Silvia flitting around as she got dressed for the evening, the blinding sunset sweater wrapped over her shoulders, a cloud of rich perfume floating in the air, and her throaty laughter echoing through the rooms. I walked into the garden, the rain misty on my face, and breathed in the scent of earth and lemons and sweet bougainvillea. The colored petals were blooming in a tangle of lushness. The quiet dimness of the day settled around me, a touch of melancholy making me sigh.
This was the place where it began. And yet, it was all still wrapped up in Rafe. I hadn’t written to him about my plans to come to Italy. Half of me was hoping to be strong enough not to contact him and to allow him his own life and privacy. I didn’t even know if he’d want to see me after the way I broke it off, and I didn’t blame him. For now, I’d be here in Positano alone. I’d figure out if my marriage was worth fighting for. I’d decide who I wanted to be in this next phase of my life on my own terms.
I walked back into the house and softly closed the door behind me.
chapter twenty-nine
Bailey
They walked past the beach and toward the small hut-like buildings that housed the ferry office and various boat companies offering tours. After calling every company listed that employed anyone of a certain age who had a name beginning with R, they found two possibilities. Arranging to meet both prospective candidates, she and her sisters were disappointed again. One man was decades too young, and the other was a cranky old man who believed Americans ruined his homeland and shooed them out with a litany of creative curse words.
If he had been Mom’s mysterious lover, they agreed it was better to never know. No way Mom could fall for such a bitter grump. Plus, she was American.
Research complete, they settled on a group outing to the Grotte di Suppraiano in Praiano. Pris had been stuck on the Blue Grotto in Capri, but Hawke had mentioned the Grotte di Suppraiano would be less crowded and was just as beautiful. They also had the opportunity to swim in if they chose. Bailey loved the idea of having such total freedom in a mystical place but decided to stick with the boat. Her sisters agreed.
After the drama of the previous morning, Dev’s planned trip to Fornillo beach was exactly what they needed. They’d lounged under red-and-green-striped umbrellas, sipping icy lemon cocktails as they overlooked the rippling blue water. The small pebbled beach was half as crowded as the main one, perched at the bottom of a plunging cliff—the reward for the long snaking hike downward. The water was cool and salty. They’d waded in to their ankles, discovering the steep decline of the sea floor as they were suddenly plunged in past the shoulders. Bailey and her sisters spent the afternoon lazing in the sun, people watching, and eating delicious salads and sparkling wine from the Hotel Pupetto.