Page 57 of Better Than Gelato
“I know that,” I say.
“Do you? Because you seem set against doing something you love, and determined to do something that will make you miserable.”
“I’m determined to do something that makes sense,” I say. “My dad didn’t have the luxury of going to college. I do. I’m not going to waste it earning a degree in something frivolous that won’t pay off my loans or help my family’s finances.”
Jake makes a frustrated sound. “It’s not about the money.”
“For you it’s not because you’ve always had it. For my family, it’s always about the money.” I sit up, out of his reach. “But it will be different for my kids. If I earn a degree in business and work hard, I can make that dry cleaners profitable. I can make the kind of money my dad always tried to and never quite could.
“My kids won’t eat free lunch in the cafeteria. They won’t dig through the bins at the Salvation Army for their school clothes. They won’t endure the teasing that followed because Catrina Bradshaw was dropping off a couch with her parents and saw and told everyone at school.”
“Juliet, I’m sorry. I didn’t?—”
“You didn’t know. I get it. And the truth is, you’ll never know. But you don’t have to feel sorry for me either. I’m not that poor little girl anymore. I’m a grown-up who gets to make her own choices. And I’m choosing a life of financial security over dream chasing.”
Jake doesn’t say anything.
“We’d better go, or we’ll be late,” I say. I grab my coat, and Jake follows me to the door.
Every December, they set up an ice-skating rink in the middle of the piazza. By the time me and Jake get there, our whole gang is already on the ice. They are all terrible skaters. Valentina and Paolo keep falling, and Diego is hanging on the side of the rink out of breath. We spend an hour skating, falling and laughing.
Afterward, Jake and I grab some hot chocolate. It hasn’t snowed yet, but it feels like it could any moment.
“Are you feeling homesick?” Jake asks.
I shake my head. “I was just thinking how if we were back home, I’d be the cliche college girl who brings home a boy at Christmas.”
“You’d bring me to meet your family?” he asks. His tone is the kind you use with a skittish horse you don’t want to spook.
“I mean technically, if we were back home, we would have never met. So when I invited you, you’d be like, ‘I don’t know you. Seems weird to meet your family.’”
He ignores my joking and says, “That’s a big deal.”
“Maybe I’m ready for a big deal,” I say.
He doesn’t say anything, just smiles and kisses me.
“I didn’t know it was possible to smile and kiss at the same time,” I say.
“I’m a very good multi-tasker,” he says, still smiling.
The holidays do funny things to you. Like make you wear outlandish sweaters with tinsel, and drink gross beverages like eggnog, and think ridiculous things likeI’m in love with Jake.
* * *
“Merry Christmas!” Jake says. He sets a large bag of groceries on the Rossis’ table and slips a backpack off his shoulder. We’re hosting Christmas Eve dinner for the whole gang at my place tonight, and I’m super excited.
“I got everything we need,” Jake says.
He nudges his backpack with his foot and looks at me, then looks away.
“I also brought some, um, pajamas. And a toothbrush. I thought, since it’ll probably be a late night and we talked about spending Christmas morning together, maybe I could spend the night here, in Isa’s room. Unless that feels weird to you. It’s totally up to you.” He’s wiggling his left foot like he has a kink in it. “I’m fine either way.”
“You’re adorable either way. I’d love it if you spent the night. I definitely don’t want to do all the dishes myself.”
Jake’s posture loosens in relief. He brings his backpack to Isa’s room and then comes back into the kitchen and says, “What should I make us for lunch?”
“This. This right here is why I—” I stop just in time. “Why I’m glad you’re here.”
