Page 108 of Kissing is the Easy Part
Not even my texts are funny. I’m desperate, even clingy, and no wonder Sean doesn’t bother to reply. He’s spending time with his family as he should, maybe doing wholesome Christmas things like posing for ugly sweater photos in front of the tree (neither of which exists in my house). I toss my phone back in my tote and go back to my hotel room, alone but proud of myself. The old Flora would’ve flirted with the guy until he blushed, but I’ve outgrown that stage. I’ve matured.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m crying into my pillow.
It’s not because of the tiramisu invitation, not directly. I live in a grand palace, surrounded by everything I’ve ever dreamed of. But as I stand on the balcony of my golden cage, staring down, I picture escaping to the field outside, where I can roll around in the mud and rain.
Here I am, on vacation in my string bikini with tiny gem embellishments, basking in the sun, freaking out because a cute guy talked to me.
That’s when it hits me: the worst thing a girl can lose in a relationship isn’t her reputation, her friends, or even her freedom.
It’s herself.
To love Sean, I’ve lost myself.
* * *
My mom comes into my room later that day.
“How’s your evening?” She stretches her legs out across my bed. Hanging out with my mom is like having a sleepover with a friend you don’t see often, full of catching up, fashion tips, and zero lectures.
“It was okay. How was your dinner?”
The lines around her eyes soften as she recounts every ridiculous thing my dad said. He honestly isn’t that hilarious, but his lame jokes are right up her alley. The pearl studs in her ears catch the light with a soft pink sheen when she turns her head. “And then we ordered another bottle of wine, and he—”
“Mom, how did you know Dad was the one?”
She stops midsentence, and I brace myself for profound wisdom. “I don’t know. A part of me is still waiting for an Italian man on a Vespa to sweep me off my feet.”
“You married at twenty-two! You must’ve feltsomething.”
“Yeah, I started throwing up a lot, then Jeremy came.”
“Mom, I’m serious.”
She places her hand on my wrist. The rose-gold rings on her fingers are icy. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong? I thought you had an amazing time with Sean in New York.”
“We did. That’s why . . . it’s so hard right now.”
Her smile fades. “Tell me all about it.”
“It’s a lot of things thrown together. I can’t be sure of anything anymore. I rely on him for everything, but we don’t have anything in common, and we’ve been fighting lately. He doesn’t even like sushi!” I stop, catching my breath after sharing our top three most epic fights and the tiramisu guy incident. “But Sean’s a great guy, right? He has a noble heart. It’s like, there’s nothing indecent or dirty about him.”
“I seriously doubt ‘teenage boy’ and‘not dirty’belong in the same sentence.”
“Mom!”
“Okay. I mean, no one’s perfect.”
“He’s as close as anyone can get. I’m never going to do better than that.”
“Sometimes the best isn’t necessary the best choice.” She studies my face for a long moment. “Are you happy?”
“I am . . . I think. I don’t know.” I let out a long breath.
“I can’t tell you what to do, but remember you’re allowed to make mistakes. If you need time to clear your head, then do it.”
“Right.”
“I wasn’t sure if your dad was the one when I met him, but gradually, he became it after everything we went through together. All those memories, those are the things that make him irreplaceable, you know?” She makes everything seem so easy, even though she’s got her own struggles—working in a white-dominated industry, balancing an identity that doesn’t fit into clean boxes, and juggling urgent and important priorities like she’s stuck in some never-ending four-quadrant career matrix. “After all, we raised two little rascals together. We bond through battling our common enemies. So, ultimately, I believe love grows through experience rather than a perfect match. You’re really young. You don’t need to solve the ‘forever’ question. You should be happy and carefree at your age.”
