That was okay.

She picked up her journal and wrote down her feelings.

I remember when I worked in the flower shop creating floral arrangements. It felt great to express myself creatively. I guess I’ve been searching for that feeling ever since.

Now, in Venice, I have that chance again, but now Tony is here. Right when I began to express myself again, I have to set all that aside for Jaime. For Tony.

She leaned back against the headboard, listening to the sounds coming in the window. Patrons in the bar below and the dishware clanging. Laugher, music, life.

Will it be worth it in the end?

Jaime’s smiling face came to mind.

Yes. She looks so happy. There’s hope in her eyes and her voice and her smile. It’s obvious how to see Tony and me together again has healed her. To me, that smile makes it all worthwhile.

I’m in Venice! Before that, Rome! I have so much to be grateful for—why would I ever complain about my life?

Her heart raced as she pictured the sights and sounds of Italy.

But the smile slowly faded.

Tony did hurt me, but I forgive him, and I’ve moved on. Now we have a chance to rebuild our lives together. Why wouldn’t I want that?

I need to tell Tony what I want from life though. He needs

to know that going forward, I won’t lose myself like I did before. I can’t.

I won’t.

He’ll understand, I just know it.

Satisfied, Joy set down her journal, then grabbed a change of clothes. She didn’t know how Tony would respond to what she had to say, but he needed to know. He needed to see the passion in her eyes and hear it in her voice.

Could she go through with it? Would she back down?

Passing the mirror, Joy paused to study herself. You’ve got to do it.

As frustrating as it was to figure out the words to say to Tony, Joy knew it was nothing a long hot bath couldn’t fix.

CHAPTER 12

Sipping her cappuccino in the hotel lobby breakfast buffet, Joy observed the young married couple for the last time.

They gazed longingly into one another’s eyes, squeezing each other’s hands.

She suspected they were leaving because they had their bags on the ground at their feet and the wife looked forlorn.

“I hope you had a nice time in Venice.” Joy offered them a smile.

The wife smiled back. “We did. I’m sad that we have to leave so soon though.”

Joy remembered that kind of pain from her own honeymoon decades earlier. “I know what you mean.”

On her way to the flower shop, Joy thought more about what she would say to Tony that night at dinner.

“Ciao, Joy!” came a shout from across the crowded piazza.

Joy jerked around. Alessandro waved to her. His bright smile matched the brightness of the morning.

“Ciao. Come stai?” Joy rushed over to him.

“You look lovely this morning, Joy.”

“Thank . . . uh, grazie.” She giggled. “I’ve been in Venice for a month. You’d think I’d have learned the proper phrases by now.”

“Are you on your way to the shop? I’ll walk with you.” He gently led her by the small of her back.

His touch calmed Joy as it always did.

“I was going to check in with Dina and Vito. I’ll be heading back to New York soon.”

“When? Maybe we could see each other today? Si?” He held open the door to the shop.

“Well, uh . . .”

“Joy!” Dina rushed over to her. “Affretarsi! Hurry. We’ve been asked to set up for a reception. Not a wedding, but a party. Andiamo.” She clapped her hands.

Joy winced and grabbed her purse strap. “Oh, Dina, I can’t. I came to tell you that today is my last day in Venice.”

Dina shook her finger in Joy’s face. “That is tomorrow. Today, you help. Andiamo.”

Joy glanced over at Alessandro, who scooted past Dina to help load the carts with Vito.

She shrugged and put her purse behind the counter as she always did when she worked in the shop. “All right then. Andiamo!”

“Joy.” Alessandro approached. “The reception is—”

But Dina’s scowl interrupted them. “Now!” She jabbed her finger at the carts.

A few minutes later, Joy and Alessandro helped wheel the loaded carts across the piazza and to the waiting boat at the docks. The boxes held vases, flowers wrapped in paper, English ivy, and candles.

Alessandro’s brother Charlie waved them over to the boat. “What took you so long? We’re late.”

“Stiamo arrivando veniamo.” Alessandro turned to Joy. “I told him we’re coming already.”

“Where is this party reception, anyway?” Joy asked.

He scratched his neck. “Well . . .” With folded hands, he bowed apologetically. “I wanted to surprise you, but the reception Dina spoke of is for my daughter, Gianna, and Matteo. A celebration.”