In fact, Joy could barely remember what her own dreams had been before she married Tony. Who was she, and what did she want from life?
She had forgotten that deepest part of herself until she met Dina and Vito. When she helped them set up the flowers for that wedding reception, a spark lit inside her . Through them, Joy remembered what she wanted in life.
Flowers.
Closing her eyes, Joy reflected on working part time in a florist shop as a teenager. The scent of the flowers filled her lungs again, taking her back to that happy time. Before then, life at home had been desperate. Weston, her stepfather, was kind, but a stoic and cold businessman. He was distant and unfeeling when it came to the teenage stepdaughter he’d inherited when he married Joy’s mother. It was obvious he had no idea how to interact with her. Joy grew up alone and unloved, painting pictures inside her bedroom. Desperately craving the love and acceptance of her stepfather, Joy knew that desperation made her vulnerable and susceptible to a handsome, popular boy’s advances and words of adoration, even if they weren’t genuine.
Enter Tony.
How could she not fall hard for him? His movie star looks and build, his brilliance and success in the business world . . . all of it gave Joy the exit strategy from her sad home life that she wanted.
But was that a reason to marry? She thought so, once. But didn’t know any longer.
What Joy did know was that she’d have to tell Tony who she was now and what she wanted from life, hoping he’d understand.
Buona notte, sweetheart!
Setting down her phone, Joy hoped Jaime was reassured. How could she be, when Joy wasn’t reassured herself?
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.
