Page 153 of Headstrong Like Us
The private villasin Anacapri are a sanctuary for my family. Even if paparazzi have followed us all the way here, they can’t step foot on the property.
Our location might’ve been leaked and the media is a hassle, but I wouldn’t have picked a different place to marry Farrow. The coast is stop-in-your-tracks gorgeous.
Limestone crags jut out of the vibrant aqua sea, and the sky looks unreal. Like bright blue gelato that you want to scoop and taste. Sweet and refreshing.
At the main villa, robust columns line a walkway to the entrance. Foliage spindling and centuries old trees shading the lavish pool and Jacuzzi. Renaissance sculptures and rose bushes decorate the courtyard, and for our first breakfast, almost everyone is here. Under umbrellas. Crostatas and espressos are spread over the glass circular tables.
Scenery aside, it’s been a relatively peaceful morning. Except for one unfortunate thing five tables away.
Kaden Simmons is here forbreakfast. He’s sipping a cappuccino and chatting with my mom’s therapist.
On one hand, I’m glad my dad is making sure he has the support he needs—especially during the stress of traveling.
On the other, I’d like nothing more than to leave Kaden Simmons across the ocean. Better yet,inthe ocean. He can go make friends with dolphins and sea creatures and find a new home down in Atlantis for all I care.
Part of me wants to still be firmly in the camp ofdon’t rock the boatand that boat happens to be the one my dad is living in. Which means I shouldn’t say anything about Kaden. My mouth has been shut for months.
Another, maybe smaller, part of me believes my dad is better. He’s okay. And he can handle the loss of hisgreatnew therapist.
My parents were my support not that long ago. When we held a funeral service for Ripley’s birth mom. Tina had no family, none that cropped up or cared, no one to pay for burial expenses.
I know she might not have wanted to be found and that’s why our PI couldn’t locate her. But I wish I could’ve done more for her while she was alive.
It’ll never feel like enough.
She’s buried in the same cemetery as Cassidy Keene, Farrow’s mom. And when Ripley is older, he’ll have a place to visit his mom, if he wants. They were both in their mid-twenties. Too young to die. Younger than Farrow is now.
It got to me at the burial plot, and I almost started crying.
My dad hugged me for a while, and I didn’t even question if he was doing well. He felt like my pillar, and I held onto him.
But I know I’m afraid of knocking him down again. Which is why I lean towardsdon’t rock the boat.
My dad is unknowingly making this hard by inviting his therapist to breakfast. Kaden’s breached the circle—okay, he was invited in—and I’m still eyeing him five tables away.
Farrow got a late start and is back at the villa with Ripley. He should be down here soon, but until then, my table is packed with four other men.
Uncle Ryke, Uncle Connor, Uncle Garrison, and my dad have been in a deep conversation about their youngest daughters. Something about the girls being teenagers. I don’t know—I’m not really listening. My focus keeps traveling to Kaden, who’s sipping his cappuccino across the courtyard.
I think Connor notices (he noticesalmosteverything), and my dad follows my uncle’s observant gaze from me to Kaden and back to me.
Quickly, I divert my eyes back to the bread and apricot jam.
They all give each other a look that I can’t read and the air strains at our table of five.
My dad picks up cranberry juice. “You should go talk to him, bud.”
I go rigid. “What?”
His face weighs with seriousness. “My therapist,” he explains. “You should go talk to him. It might help.”
“Help what?” I glance to Connor.Please, let this make sense.
He sips a coffee, brow arched. Can’t read him at all. No help.
I glance at Garrison, my youngest uncle and the father of Vada Abbey. Growing up, he was always like a cool older brother. He even tattooedBatmanon his neck, which he did to piss off my dad.
He bites into a breakfast tart and makes a face at me. A face that says,“Don’t ask me. I know nothing.”
