Page 68 of Tempted Hearts
That’s easy. I miss the Ligurian Sea, the food, the good cheap wine, limoncello spritzes. The list goes on.
Cole
I think what I miss the most is the croissants. And pizza, of course. Not things I let myself indulge in much day-to-day.
Jules
I’ll bring you some croissants on Friday. If you’re there.
Cole
I’ll be there.
Jules
Okay, cool. We can talk more about why you have mixed feelings on your ten-year plan, and I’ll pretend I don’t already know.
Cole
Too much to ask for you to go easy on me?
Jules
Definitely.
Cole
See you Friday, monella.
Jules
I stared at the screen longer than I should have, the city humming outside my window like it always did, indifferent and loud. New York was good at that—reminding you of everything you were supposed to want. The apartment. The view. The conversation I’d just walked out of, where my future had been presented as a done deal.
Tenure. Fall semester. A life that didn’t require reconsideration.
And yet the only thing that felt real was a woman a few hundred miles away, stuck in a story she couldn’t move forward because admitting the truth would change everything.
I locked my phone and leaned back in my chair, the decision already settled even if I hadn’t said it out loud yet. Friday wasn’t a coincidence. It wasn’t convenient. It was a choice.
Cedar Falls didn’t fit neatly into the life I’d built.
Which was exactly why I was going back.
26
JULES
As I walked to O’Malley’s, the gazebo in the center of Cedar Falls’ main town square called to me. It was typically filled with kids dancing, couples sitting on benches talking, but right now it was empty. Walking toward it, I was reminded of the piazza where we ate breakfast every morning in Monterosso.
This certainly wasn’t Italy, but the sentiment was very much the same. A gathering place for families and friends, surrounded by local businesses, all cooperating in a way that could only be found in a place like this.
I sat, the pub I was heading to in my line of sight, just half a block away. Every logical thought in my mind pointed in the opposite direction of that pub.
The number of times I thought about our trip. The kiss. The stairwell. Catching myself touching my lips, still being able to feel his against mine. Cole’s admission on the boat about his dating life. He all but said to my face,Come closer, and you will get hurt.
In my experience, he was right. At this point in my life, I needed a man who was emotionally available. I’d already Venmo’d Parker back for my share of the trip costs, the one practical thing I’d managed to do since we returned. Staying in touch with Rocco, I’d realized, was a way to distract myself with trips to the city and keep a line of communication open with someone who wasn’t afraid to share what he felt. But if I compared that—or any past relationship, really—to the sparks that flew between Cole and me, the butterflies in my stomach when I thought of him, there was no comparison.
Yet another reason not to stand up and go in there.
