[cottagecore_cynic]: The earring is just an excuse, and you know it. Stop being a coward.
That last one stings.
But they’re right. All of them. Even the person who just commented with a bunch of peach emojis and the words GET IT in all caps.
I open a new tab and search for flights to Italy.
There’s one leaving tomorrow afternoon.
My cursor hovers over ‘Book Now.’
This is insane. I have the week off work. But still, I have a life that makes sense without her in it.
Had. I had a life that made sense.
I think about Nate, his baby, his applesauce-covered happiness.
I think about Poppy laughing at George, swaying in my arms under fairy lights, looking at me like maybe I wasn’t a lost cause.
I type in my credit card info and click ‘Book Now.’
The confirmation email comes through immediately.
Flight to Milan. Connection to Genoa. Car to Portofino.
I screenshot it and send it to Nate.
His response is immediate.
NATE:About damn time.
NATE:Rosie says good luck. Attached is a photo of the baby with what might be a thumbs-up but is probably just a fist.
I stare at the earring. Such a small thing. It barely weighs anything.
But maybe that’s the point.
Maybe the big things start small.
Maybe they begin with admitting that your perfect life is perfectly empty.
And maybe they start with a flight to Italy, an earring, and the kind of hope I swore I’d never let myself feel.
“Be careful,” I mutter to myself.
Then I book a rental car for good measure.
Because careful is overrated.
And I’m done pretending I don’t want what everyone else seems to have figured out.
Connection. Chaos. Someone to come home to.
Even if she tells me to get lost in Italian.
At least I’ll know I tried.
The earring rests on my coffee table, catching the light.
