I rub my eyes and walk to the bathroom. My flight leaves later tonight and I have to catch the ferry first. I imagine bouncing on the waves toward Naples by myself. Without Brady. I have to hold my stomach and sit on the edge of the bed. But as soon as I’m on stable ground I realize I’m sitting on a piece of paper. I pick it up; it’s the napkin with Will and Phil’s number. On the other side one of them has scrawled the words, “Love is a verb.” Then I remember asking them about the secret to their relationship at the bar last night.
Is that all it is? Wasn’t I starting to do that this summer? I’m not the person I was when I was waiting for Brady at JFK clutching my anatomy book out of fear of connecting with him again, but I’m still not at a point where that stuff is easy for me. Love is easier as a noun. More manageable under my microscope.
I pack up my things and carry my backpack downstairs, noticing a few more rips and stains on it. Well-earned wounds from a summer of adventure that I never thought would end like this. I can’t believe I’m leaving here without him.
I’m in the lobby looking over the cinema-themed decorations, thinking about all the places we’ve seen together, the bookstore in London, dancing under the stars in Barcelona, skinny-dipping in Berlin and wandering around Poznan, the most romantic city in the world if you ask me. But there are still so many places for us to explore. I want us to do it together.
I take out my keycard to hand back to the hotel clerk and my fingers move past the napkin I stuffed in my pocket.Love is a verb.That’s what Brady wants. He wants me to act, to show him even when it isn’t easy or comfortable for me.To love. He doesn’t need me to protect him from the world, he wants me to enter it with him and trust him, not manage him. But how can I show him that I figured that out when I’ll be in Boston and he’ll be so far away? How can I make him hear me and understand how I really feel about him through the distance?
I’m about to hand the clerk my card when I notice all of the movie props artfully attached to the wall. Then it hits me. I can let him know that I’m not standing on the sidelines of this relationship or holding anything back.Love is a verb. “Excuse me,” I ask the person at the front desk. “Do you think I could borrow something from the wall over there?” It might not work and I’m not sure I have the balls to do it, but it’s my only shot.
Chapter 50
Capri
Brady
“Mom, can I speak to you out on the terrace?” I hold out my arm for her. The wedding dinner has finished and there’s a short interlude before the entertainment. “I have something important to say.” Better to talk to my mother out of earshot of others but still in a public setting since I know she won’t display too much emotion in front of other people. She’s flying back tomorrow. This is my last chance.
I wave to my sister and Gemma. Claire gives me a thumbs up and Gemma blows me a kiss. As we walk away from the table, a chamber ensemble begins to play in the ballroom and a team of audio-visual people prepare the room for Samantha Garcia to perform. We walk across the terrace; the magical sunset hour has started to leave long orange and gold shadows across the green lawn. Yachts and ferries crisscross the calm water and below us the small public beach has a crowd of people hoping to catch a glimpse of the festivities.
“Brady, is this going to take long? I don’t want to miss that Samantha Garcia song,” my mom says. She moves her hand behind her neck to fluff her hair.
“You mean ‘Love More Fearless’? How do you know that song?”
“Elena, my personal trainer, plays it. It’s wonderful. Great beat. Now what is all this about?”
We sit on one of the cushioned settees set up near the edge of the railing. A jet rumbles above us, heading east, and I stretch my neck in case it’s close enough to see. Hayes could be on that jet. His flight should be leaving now. If I have any chance of ever working things out with him, I have to take this next step. But more importantly I need to take this next step for myself, otherwise nothing will ever change.
“Mom, I’m not going to law school.” The words come out cleanly and easily.
She laughs. Nothing sardonic, just a normal chortle since what I’m saying is, on the surface, ridiculous. “Brady, you could have told me this joke inside. Why make me walk in these heels on the grass? Of course you’re going to law school.” She looks at me seriously now, her expression even and controlled. “We’ve been courting the dean all year, the tuition is paid. Your father knows the professor teaching your torts class. I even bought a few suits waiting for you back home.”
This woman uses formal wear as a weapon.
“Mom, I’m not going. I’m sorry. I should have told you before. That’s my fault. I shouldn’t have let you do all this.”
My mother sighs and folds her hands on her lap. “Brady, I don’t understand. What are you going to do? Live in the pool house for another year?”
“I’m going to be a kindergarten teacher.” No hesitation. I hear the confidence in my voice and it makes me sit up with a straighter spine.
“What? You’re going to be a male nanny?” She truly thinks I’m speaking another language.
“Mom, I know you know being a nanny is different than being a kindergarten teacher, and they are both valid jobs, so stop with that. I’m going to get my teaching certificate,” I say. I almost add “at North Boston,” since in my stomach I feel a glimmer of hope and excitement. I never knew a spark of true confidence could create so many different feelings.
“A kindergarten teacher,” she says with the tone she uses for describing counterfeit Gucci. “I see.” No emotion. Just a blank stare.
“That’s what I love. Being with Gemma this spring…”
“But Brady, that’s because she’s your niece. I knew your sister should have hired a temp. You were just playing with her.”
“It’s more than that. We weren’t just playing. We were learning together, and I found ways to make it fun, and that made me feel important. It made me feel smart. I liked that feeling. I want more.”
“I don’t understand. You’d be working with your father and your sister in one of the most powerful firms in the world. Don’t you think they’re smart?” She smooths the fabric on the sash of her gown.
“Yes, of course they’re smart. They’re brilliant at what they do. And I want to feel brilliant at what I do. It just happens to be something different. Don’t you want me to feel that way?” I push my palm on to my chest and feel my heart beating. I’m nervous she’s going to choose working in the family firm over her son’s happiness.
She adjusts her earring with a frown. “If that’s what you want to do.” My hand drops from my chest in a moment of relief. “Your father will be disappointed.” She takes a long pause, looking me over, but I remain unaffected by her intimidation. Then I see her face change. “I can’t stop you. You’re an adult. You can do what you want.”
