Page 62 of When Love Gives You Lemons
“You were heartbroken, babe. Don’t you remember? Shut off from his life completely. How he was addicted to his phone, being so ‘online,’ which always bothered you, but couldn’t be there for you when you needed him.” He laughs. “You were pissed last night after talking to him, which you still didn’t tell me what happened between the two of you, and the day before, too, leading up to the flight, you were anxious and moodythinkingabout seeing him. What happened today that changed all that?”
He’s not wrong. I came here hell-bent on never speaking to Fielder again. I did not see a way forward with him. Not after Fielder’s no-contact continued to wreck me in ways I never imagined possible.
But that’s the thing about Fielder Lemon:
One look from him, and no matter the devastation, I’m hooked back in, despite not wanting to be.
“Just trying to keep the peace for my sister.” I kiss Cam. “Thanks for apologizing. Means a lot. I know it wasn’t easy.”
He shrugs. “It’s important to you. And I’m the right guy for you, right?”
“Why do you always ask me stuff like that?”
He kisses the tip of my nose. “Like what?”
“Like if you’re the right guy for me?”
“Just making sure.” Cam gnaws at his thumbnail, chewing on it. “I’m gonna go take a shower before dinner. Wanna come?”
“Mind if I write for a bit?”
“I didn’t know you write. Where’d you get that?”
“I, uh, got it at the gift shop today.”
Cam admires the journal. “Beautiful. I wish I knew Italian. Teach me one day?”
“Va bene,” I say.
“What did you say?”
“Okay.”
“Va bene,” he repeats with a smile, and it makes my stomach cramp. After getting up, he bends down to kiss me, but before he leaves, he says, “Also, did Fielder say anything to you after I left the lemon farm?”
“About what?”
“Oh, nothing. Thought maybe he might have mentioned our, um, hug after the Vespa took him out. It was a real blended family moment.” His voice goes up at the end, the way it does when he lies. I wonder what he’s lying about.
Instead of doing the hard thing and digging, I finish what I started writing because for the first time in a while, I’m inspired. I’ll figure the rest out tomorrow.
FROM THE NEW JOURNAL OF RICCARDO DELUCA
“QUANTO BASTA”
Nonno used to make fire
fuoco, zucchero, acqua, limoni
he taught me to measure twice, cut once, quanto basta
to be patient, learn his stories with ears and heart
zest ‘til my hands ache—
sneak a bite of the rind, sweet white flesh, and pulp—
drop peels into a large glass jar
