Page 82 of My Big Fat Italian Break-Up

He turned to look at me, his eyebrow going up as it always did when he was disappointed. ‘And you let him.’

I did. If even for a second, I did. But that was all it had been. A simple kiss. Nothing more. Alberto knew it and I knew it. But to Julian’s eyes, and rightly so, it was the highest form of betrayal. If he’d so much as caressed another woman’s cheek, I’d have lost it. And now here I was, begging for his forgiveness. Of course I didn’t deserve it. I knew that much. The best man in the whole wide world had chosen me and I hadn’t been strong enough to weather the storm with him.

Because at the first sign of difficulty, I’d let a man kiss me. To be totally honest (and I might as well be at this low point), I hadn’t expected Alberto to actually come right out and do that. I’d been happy with just the banter and the minor flirting, which at the time had given me a necessary ego boost, as I’d hit rock bottom in the self-love department.

I had thought that Julian was drifting away from me, and what did I do? Rather than asserting myself and making things clear between us, I pushed him away even further. And now he was the one who was hurt. He was the one who had been wronged. And he was leaving.

‘Where are you going?’ I squeaked as he grabbed his keys and slammed the door behind him, leaving me alone with this demolition ball in my chest, trying to take stock of what I’d done.

In just three days, my life had taken a major flip. Or rather, a major flop. I’d screwed it up all by myself. No one to blame. Moral of the story? I hadn’t trusted my husband-to-be and now he didn’t trust me. And this was the price I had to pay.

*

For days, Julian avoided eye contact with me and only spoke to me when we were in front of the kids. Which brought back yet another set of memories. Like with the first man who had ruined my life. And now, apparently,Iwas the Mary Magdalen of the situation, sleeping alone in our huge bed, sobbing like a two-year-old night after night and wishing – no, praying – he’d knock on my door and tell me he forgave me.

If he ever came back to our bed – if he knocked on our door – I’d be happy to let him spend a year in Antarctica with Sienna. Anything he wanted. If only he’d forgive me and come back to me and marry me and be my love again… I swore I’d do anything for him to come back. And I prayed all the prayers I knew.

A few hours – and a great deal of Hail Marys later – my cellphone rang. Had Julian finally seen the light? Was he willing to talk this over and maybe, in time, forgive me? I jumped onto the phone.

‘Erica…?’

‘Yes?’ I prompted.

‘It’s Alberto.’

Crap. ‘I can’t talk right now, Alberto…’Or ever again. What a stupid thing to have done.

‘Please don’t be mad at me, Erica.’

I didn’t have the strength to be mad. I just wanted to get rid of him.

‘I-I hate myself, but I need to talk to you,’ he whispered.

‘Did you drop the cake?’ I quipped, to block a sob that was choking me.

‘Worse. I can’t stop thinking about you. Can I see you?’

Oh, God, no, no, no. Please – I have enough problems as it is.‘I can’t, Alberto.’

‘Why not?’

I rubbed the space between my eyes, trying not to scream. ‘Because I’ve just ruined the best relationship I’ve ever had with a man.’

‘But you and Julian aren’t a good match. He always leaves you on your own.’

‘I love Julian. I’m sorry.’

‘But don’t forget the chemistry between us. You can’t deny that.’

I groaned inwardly, the full realization of what I’d done finally hitting me only now that our happiness was in danger. ‘That moment happened because I didn’t know what I was doing. I was tipsy, but now I’m sober.’

‘I don’t believe you.’

I shrugged, as if he could see me. ‘Look, Alberto, I’m very flattered. But please don’t call me again unless it’s about the menu.’

Silence. Then: ‘So you mean the wedding is still on?’

Very good question. Who knew?

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