Page 41 of My Big Fat Italian Break-Up

He pulled me into his arms. ‘Shush. You didn’t fail anything. You worked miracles. Any other woman would have capitulated ten times over.’

I snorted and blinked hard to stop the tears. ‘Who says I didn’t capitulate?’

‘Stop, now. You can’t right the world’s wrongs or teach other people honesty.’

‘Then what else is left?’ I mumbled, and he lifted my chin with his index like he used to long, long ago.

‘To live, love and be happy?’ he whispered.

To live, love and be happy…’ I sniffed, nodding. ‘That actually sounds like a nice idea.’

He grinned, back to his calm self. ‘It is. You should try it sometime.’

*

Julian was right. I couldn’t continue bearing the weight of the world on my shoulders. Nor could I change people who didn’t want to be changed. Maybe it was time to let my hair down and truly, as he said, abide by our motto. Take care of myself more. Not worry so much about looking ten years younger but actually try being ten years happier.

And so I let Paul drag me out for a light afternoon to Fiorella’s Bridal Salon, where I must have tried on a gazillion gowns. Many of them I wouldn’t be caught dead in. Besides, they were almost all too small.

‘We can order your size,’ Fiorella assured. ‘This is just to see what looks good on you.’

I swallowed back a snort to hide the hurt that was my lifetime companion. Humiliation. Nothing looked good on me. I was still far from my ideal weight. Slimmer than the meringue disaster of my first wedding, granted, but nothing like how I wanted to look. Like Sienna Thornton-Jones. She was slim. Sleek. Effortlessly elegant.

I stared stonily at my reflection, not seeing much of a difference from my teenage days when Marcy used to drag me to Macy’s for Humiliation Week. If I didn’t lose weight pronto, I’d call the bloody wedding off myself. It was now officially time to lock the refrigerator and throw away the key.

But who was I kidding? Every time I even looked at a pastry, I put on weight. Was it my fault if Tuscany was teeming with succulent food of every sort? Everywhere I looked, from the bakeries to the street food stalls in the piazza, delicacies of every shape and form ambushed me. Every café was an excuse to get away from everyday life, sit down and try something new.

And then our motto floated back to my mind. Live, love and be happy. Yes. I needed to focus on the good things in my life. Never give up on being a mom and wife. Because spending time with my kids and Julian was like a breath of life. How had I managed to chain myself to my laptop when I had these three miracles by my side?

‘Are you happy today, Mommy?’ Maddy asked.

I stopped. ‘I’m always happy when I’m with you, sweetheart.’

‘So you’ve solved the B & B problem?’ Warren wanted to know.

‘I’ve solved the B & B problem,’ I lied.

‘Good. Because we don’t like you cranky and neither does Dad.’

Oh, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’msosorry, I wanted to say, but it was enough to pull them both onto my lap, even if Warren was already a strapping young lad of fourteen. A moment of weakness with mom wouldn’t hurt him, right? So I smothered them both with repentant kisses while Maddy giggled and Warren yucked and feign-wiped his face. But neither of them moved away. If anything, they hung on and I don’t know who clung harder, them or me.

‘Can we watch a movie all together?’ Maddy asked, happy that things were finally returning to normal and that Mommy wasn’t batshit crazy, after all. (Well, maybe just a little.)

‘Of course. I’ll make some popcorn. What do you want to watch, Maddy?’

Warren rolled his eyes. ‘I’m not watchingThebloodyMermaidagain.’

‘Yes, you are,’ I said, giving him my world-famous hairy eyeball.

‘Fine,’ he huffed, back to his old self. ‘But I’m watchingGladiatorafter she goes to bed.’

‘Deal,’ I said and got up to make the popcorn.

‘Don’t move,’ Julian said to me. ‘I’ll get the popcorn. You stay put.’

‘Don’t mind if I do,’ I said with a grateful grin, sandwiching myself between the kids, already much happier than I had been in a long time.

9

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