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I wipe at my eyes, trying to quickly put myself together before Ellie whips the door open and sees me having an emotional breakdown. “Yup. Got it!” I call back. “I’ll be right there.”
The conversation doesn’t feel over between us, but what’s left to say? We could go around in circles all day, crying and slowly tearing each other down until one of us caves, and it would have to be me. I’d have to give up the opportunity in Spain, and I can’t do it. It’s better that he came to see me at work, in this cold, sterile room where there’s no chance of us forgetting ourselves. I’ve been given an opportunity to leave this hellhole, to do what I love most, and he knows that.
I step back out of James’ arms and try a timid smile on for size. It feels tight and fake, but I hope he doesn’t notice. One of us has to be strong, and if he thinks I’m doing the right thing, he won’t try to stop me. My mask of resolve doesn’t have to be perfect, it just has to be enough.
His pointer finger hooks beneath my chin and he lifts gently until our gazes clash in an unspoken goodbye. The tears I’d momentarily capped start to spill down my cheeks again. James doesn’t wipe them away. Instead, he bends down and presses a soft kiss to my lips. It’s the only farewell he gives before he turns and opens the door. Ellie nearly topples into the space, most likely having been listening with one ear pressed to the door. James steps around her and turns down the corridor.
It’s the last time I’ll see him before I leave.
Had I known it at the time, maybe I would have done things differently. Maybe I wouldn’t have stood immobile in that shitty employee lounge, looking to Ellie to wipe my tears and solve my problems. She wraps me in her arms and I bury my face against her shoulder. I cry at the unfairness of it all, the choice that was forced out of me and the lesson that’s getting hammered home in the most unforgiving way: you can’t have it all.
James once asked me where I want to be in five years. Wherever I am, I hope I’m not looking back on this day, wishing I’d done something different, because if I had run after James and caught up with him before he left, if I’d jumped into his arms and told him I’d stay, maybe I wouldn’t have regretted it.
I’ll never know, and that’s what makes life worth living.CHAPTER TWENTY-TWOSpain is beautiful, hot, and sunny—the antithesis of how I feel inside.
It’s basically that annoyingly upbeat friend you want to deck in the face every time she comes around. To her, everything is great and carbs don’t matter.
I am not in the mood.
I arrive at the tail end of summer, when the days stretch out long and tourists are deployed in full force. I suppose I’m one of them, another newbie trying to learn the layout of the city as quickly as possible. Public transportation takes some getting used to, and I hate having to use my GPS to find my way. In those first few days, I get lost so many times that I vow to never leave the safety of Nicolás and Diego’s apartment until I have all the city blocks memorized 10 times over.
The culture shock is hard to overcome. Though I speak the language, Barcelona still takes some getting used to. There’s no Ellie to decompress with at the end of a long day, and even though we FaceTime each other constantly, it’s not the same.
I’m homesick and filled with niggling doubt over my decision to come, though I try to separate the two from each other. Even without James, moving to a new country would have still been a major adjustment. I try to give myself enough space to feel sad without allowing myself to get lost in the what-ifs.
I’m here now, and it’s time to get used to it.
The usual loneliness that settles in while traveling alone is relieved by the fact that I’m living with Diego, Nicolás, and the girls. We live in a three-story townhouse in the heart of the city, and I have the entire top floor to myself: a small bedroom, bathroom, and sitting area with a huge picture window. Most nights, Olive and Luciana wander up to see what I’m doing, even though their fathers implore them to give me private time. I don’t mind it though. I crave the company, and since they love to read so much, I try to join them whenever possible. We tear through books together, all of us a little intimidated by our new surroundings. They’ll be starting at a new school soon, and Luciana is worried she won’t be able to make friends. Olive is more concerned that she might have fallen behind other students in her class, so I asked her dads to pick up some workbooks early. Now, we work ahead together in the evenings to ensure she’ll feel extra prepared for the first day of school. Luciana, on the other hand, insists on taking “full advantage of the summer holiday”, which means anything but homework.
