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I didn’t hear her come in, let alone notice when she perched on the edge of my bed.
“You still need to keep your grades up.”
I pull myself to sitting with a groan. “I’m quitting school and moving to . . . Ohio . . . to join a convent.”
Mom bites her lip, obviously trying not to laugh. “You’re not even Catholic.”
“So?” I huff. “I’ll convert!”
She stands and throws open my curtains, letting in the sun. “If you’re sure that’s what you want, at least go somewhere warm, like Italy. Italian men are delicious.”
The woman is relentless. Arguing with her is futile.
Resigning myself to my fate, I toss my legs over the side of the bed and squint in the bright light.
“You wouldn’t even need to speak Italian—the language of love is universal.” Mom heaves out a sigh as she gazes across the street toward Mr. Ambruzzi’s house.
She’s had a crush on him since she found out his wife ran away with her dentist on New Year’s. I guess he’s attractive for an older guy. He always smells of motor oil and parmesan cheese, but even pushing fifty, he still looks good in a T-shirt and a pair of worn Levi’s.
“I asked him out, thanks to you.” Mom lets the curtain fall shut and turns back to me with a wistful smile. “We’re having dinner next week.”
“You are? Thanks to me? What are you talking about?”
Her grin widens. “You inspired me to take another chance on love.”
“Why would you listen to me?” I drag my hair into a loose ponytail. “I’ve decided love is the root of all evil.”
“No, it’s not.” She sighs. “Your heart is broken now, but you’re young. You have your whole future ahead of you.”
“I don’t have a future anymore.” I pick at a loose thread on my old pajamas.
“Not true. You have a brilliant future ahead of you.”
Grumbling under my breath, I stomp to my closet to find something to wear.
“Honey . . .” Mom tips up my chin and locks her probing gaze on mine. “What happened?”
And with her simple understated question, my eyes fill with tears. “He posted the list, Mom.”
“Who?”
“Jordan! Turns out he’s the villain in my fairy tale. The freaking architect behind my ultimate downfall.”
Mom’s eyes widen. “Why would he do that?”
“I don’t know.” I taste the lie the second the words tumble past my lips. I know precisely why he posted the list, but knowing I indirectly hurt him first doesn’t change anything.
“I’m sorry, honey.” Mom wraps her arms around me in a tight hug. “I thought he might be the one.”
Clinging to her, I swallow the rest of my confession and breathe in her sweet perfume. “Me, too.”
“Does this mean the competition is over?” she whispers.
Wiping a traitorous tear before it falls, I finish getting ready. “I’m not quitting because of one stupid man. I’m forging ahead. I have a scholarship to think about.”
A scholarship you don’t even need . . .
“Are you sure? Maybe I was wrong when I said you should explore your sexuality. Maybe I put too much of my own baggage onto your shoulders.”
