Page 1 of A Beginner's Guide to Forever
Chapter One
Welcome to Your New Life
Florence, Italy
I need a glass of wine—orthree.
Alone on the rooftop of my hotel, I gaze out over the beautiful and historic city of Florence. Taking in the red tiled rooftops, the breathtaking Gothic cathedral in the distance, and the setting sun that casts everything in a pinkish glow, I try to count my blessings.
Count them?I can’t even nameone.
Why I thought fleeing to one of the most romantic cities in the world fresh off a bad breakup was a good idea is beyond me. I know I have a lot to live for, a lot to be hopeful about in the future, but right now, in this moment, with my heart shattered into a million pieces, I’m finding it hard to remember what any of those things are.
At age thirty-seven I’ve just ended mysecondengagement, and while I have a job I love and a great group of friends, my dreams of becoming a wife and a mother are further away than ever. I always thought of myself as someone strong, courageous, and unbreakable ... now I’m not sure I’m any of those things.
I gaze down at the happy couples strolling through the piazza four stories below. An elderly couple—she with white hair and he witha bald head—hold hands, moving slowly, as if savoring their time together. That should have been me and Sean someday. A single tear slips down my cheek as I watch them, wondering if that’s something I’ll ever have.
I close my eyes to say a silent prayer—offering God all my fears and anxieties seems like a safe place to put them.
Please help me, God. I can’t do this without you. I’m sorry I’m so impatient, but I don’t want to be alone forever. I want to find my person. I want ...
The door pushes open, interrupting my silent prayer, and I glance toward the sound. A guy steps out. He’s tall—a little over six feet, with broad shoulders.
He holds his phone to his ear. “I don’t care. You lied—straight to my face.”
He listens intently to the person on the other end of the call, pacing. He still hasn’t spotted me, but I guess I’m not surprised—when I heard the door open, I tucked myself into a large chair that’s shaped like an egg on the far side of the patio.
“Of course I don’t trust him—he’s a walking disaster.” His fists clench at his sides, and he looks like he wants to hit something. He turns and paces back in the other direction. “Did it ever occur to you ...” He pauses, seeming to think better of it, and takes a breath. “Never mind. Have a nice life, Sophia.”
He ends the call, tips his head back, and stares straight up at the night sky. Anger and frustration roll off him in waves. He shouts a curse word in defeat.
His hands are shaking when he shoves the phone into his pocket. Then he closes his eyes and pulls deep lungfuls of air into his chest.
For a second he just stands there, and I don’t know if I should announce my presence or grab a bucket of popcorn.
It’s not that his breakdown is entertaining per se, but it is distracting me from my own drama, which means it’s a very welcome diversion.
He stalks across the patio, grabs a potted plant, and hurls it against the stucco wall with so much force it explodes, sending shards of pottery and clumps of dirt flying in every direction.
I flinch at the sound, holding my breath, and wait to see what he might do next.
I don’t feel fear, which would probably be a normal human emotion when you’re alone with a strange man who’s seemingly prone to violence. Instead, I feel slightly envious.
Maybe if I thought to take my anger out by smashing potted plants or shouting profanity at the night sky, I wouldn’t be sitting here crying, throwing myself a pity party.
Then again, destroying hotel property means I wouldn’t get my security deposit back, and I’m very much a rule follower. Always have been.
Since I feel a little weird about watching what he probably assumes is a private nervous breakdown, I figure I should announce myself.
“The pool’s closed,” I hear myself say, wiping the tears from my cheek with the back of one hand.
He turns, slowly, realizing for the first time he’s not alone. When he sees me, his gaze drags over me before meeting my eyes with a look of apprehension. “Sorry ... I didn’t know anyone else was out here.” The sound of his voice surprises me. It’s very ...male. Deep and rugged. And based on his accent, he’s American.
He gives me a lopsided, almost nervous smile, and I decide he’s very attractive. Full lips. Perfect teeth. “I’m guessing you heard all that?”
I nod and offer a sheepish smile. I don’t know why I feel the sudden urge to reassure this stranger I’m not judging his temper tantrum.
He tucks one hand into his pocket, still watching me. “Are you okay?”
