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And I watch until the last of him disappears into the sea.

CHAPTER 23

Eleonora

It’s our last day here.

Tomorrow at noon, we have our flight back to Wyoming, and a thousand thoughts are going through my mind. Going back means I have to face reality again. My cookbook, my goals, my life. And eventually, Chicago, which means saying goodbye to Jude.

I groan.

That last one sounds fucking painful.

I lean against the balcony railing and look out at the sea. It's early, earlier than I've willingly been awake for most of this trip, and everything looks different at this hour. The beach below us is empty, the umbrellas still closed and the chairs stacked together. Somewhere down the street, metal shutters rattle open, followed by voices I can't understand from up here.

The sky over the water is slowly changing from pale grey to blue, streaks of soft pink stretching across the horizon as the sun begins to rise.

A new day.

I breathe in deeply, taking in the salt, the warm air and the smell of coffee drifting up from somewhere below. And for once, the breath reaches all the way down.

Before going to Wyoming, I'd lost almost everything. My job, my friends, myself. I was drowning, caught beneath waves of pain and grief that kept pushing me farther down. There was no air, no light, nothing but the pain surrounding me.

And for a long time, I thought that was where I belonged after Damiano died. At the bottom of that fucking ocean, where nothing could reach me.

Then came Jude.

Jude Hawthorne jumped straight into that deep water, right into those towering waves. He didn't drag me out by force or stand on the shore telling me to get out. No, he sank down to where I was and stayed there with me.

And little by little, with him beside me, I remembered how to swim.

Bit by painful bit, somewhere between a rage room and a table filled with people on an Italian island, we finally broke through the surface. And I learned how to breathe again.

I learned to appreciate beauty while still carrying a wound in my soul that will probably never stop bleeding.

A lot of people told me, over and over, that I would heal. They were wrong. I know that now.

This wound is there forever, like a tattoo covering my heart. Damiano was here. He lived, I loved him, and he died. Nothing will ever change any of those things, and I don't want it to.

I don't want to heal from loving him like it was some kind of disease I survived. I just needed to learn how to live with the wound he left behind.

And I am.

I'm learning to smile with it there, even when it still bleeds. The pain doesn't stop the good anymore. Somehow, I've learned that it can coexist with beauty, friendship, laughter, passion, dreams and life.

I didn't heal and go back to the old me. She's gone too. I've become a new version of myself, one who carries both worlds and is learning how to live in them.

This morning, I smile because I want to. It's sincere, and for the first time in a long time, I don't feel the need to question it.

I still miss my husband. And I'm happy to be alive.

Both are true. Both can coexist.

The sun finally breaks over the horizon, spilling warm light across the water. I close my eyes, let it touch my face and breathe.

***

“Limoncello, baby!”