The Long Way Home

I ran my hands over the skin, "Oh my God. Have you seen Mike?"

He turned back around, "No. Have you?"

I nodded, "He followed me last night." I pointed to the room, "Please, come in."

He walked in and sat on the couch in the corner.

I sat across from him on the chair and pulled my legs up and wrapped my arms around them, "He followed me to the Trevi Fountain. He told me he wants to break up with Daniela and be with me."

He flinched, "What? Is that something you want, after everything that’s happened?"

I almost said yes, but I froze. My mouth hung open. I didn’t have an answer. I had my mother's smile and nod. I had the fake answer of least resistance. But with Luce I didn’t feel like I had to say it. I could be conflicted. He expected nothing, either way. I shook my head, "I don’t know what I want."

He nodded, "I think you need to think about that, Jacqueline. You are young, crazy, vivacious, and fun. You need to embrace that and be the person you want to be. I got the impression from Mike, that you sort of mold yourself to be the person you need to be to match the man you're with. That is a mistake. My mother has done that and I have watched her die inside every day, just a little more. My father is a respected investment banker; his wife is expected to be a dutiful wife. He shouldn’t have married a white woman, but he did. My father isn’t even Islamic and my mother wears the garb. She is a strong woman, always has been. You would never know it if you met her." His green eyes were dark and beautiful under his thick black lashes, "I like that about you. You seem like you are full of passion. To listen to you talk about wine, is like listening to you pour your soul out. I think if you were smart, you would take this as an opportunity to find yourself. You're already in Europe. Go see the art and architecture and the vineyards. Go and live this and see where you end up."

I shook my head, "How are you so smart for twenty-four?"

He smiled back, but it was filled with something I didn’t know him well enough to read, "I almost lost the thing I loved the most in my life, hockey. I didn’t care if I walked or made love or ran or drove again. But I cared that I might not skate again. My father was so excited to be free of the hockey, the burden of it, and the influence of the West in my life. I had no support. I know what you have been through. I found the best doctors, I made the arrangements, and I got better because I wanted it." He stood up, "I am going to California for Christmas and then Boston to work. I hope I see again. The real you."

He left me there, dumbfounded and alone.

The next knock on the door was also surprising. I wanted it to be him, but it was Mike. He looked exhausted and sad.

I grabbed his hands, "Tell me fast, what did you love about her?"

He frowned, "What?"

"No, answer the question as quick as you can."

He looked stunned, "Silky brown hair, smoking hot, funny, kinda subservient, but spicy when I needed it. I don’t know. Why? Why are we doing this?"

"I have a challenge for you."

He sighed, "Jack, I'm beat. This has been the most tiring six months of my life."

I nodded, "I know, me too. We are both single right now. We are both completely available. I want that to last for six months. Go to Boston alone and love the game again. No one-night stands and no random-pick fucks. Just you and your team and your love of the game."

He pinched the bridge of his nose, "Baby, I just broke off an engagement with an Italian model for you. Whatever this stupid challenge is—I passed—trust me."

He stepped towards me, but I stepped back holding my hands in between us. "Mike, me and you need a chance to be me and you before we are a we. I need this. Can you grant me that? The freedom to find myself? You were right last night in one respect, I always find a way to fit the man I'm with. I think I'm me with you but I need to be sure."

He grabbed me, scooping me up and laid me down on the bed and spooned me. "Fine, but I want to sleep, nap like before."

I closed my eyes and let him hold me until he was asleep. When I was sure he was snoring, I climbed from the bed and packed my things. I had to pack it tighter with the new clothes and makeup. My sister had sent me twenty thousand dollars. It would have to be enough to get me through Europe. I called from the bathroom and changed my return date on my flight to May 7th.

I wrote him a letter and left it there next to him.

I glanced at it once more, tearing up as I reread it.

"France,

I am not letting you go. I am not giving up on you and me. I am putting me first in the least selfish way I can. You need to go to Boston and establish yourself without anyone else there to define you. I need to find out what, besides wine and little blue pills, defines me.

You have always been the person in my life that I could count on. I am counting on you now to trust me and let me trust you. I don’t want to regret following you on your dream and never experiencing mine.

I love you,

Jack, your Jack."

I grabbed my bag and slipped from the room, not waking or kissing him.

Romeo was in the lobby as I was leaving. He beamed, "You leaving early?"

I nodded and placed my bag next to the counter. I wrapped my arms around him, even if he was a stranger.

"Thank you."

He shook his head, "I saw Ms. Ribissi leaving today. She seemed upset but that husky Texan went after her."

I laughed, "Maybe you won't be rid of her."

He pulled me back, "But you will be."

I shook my head, "She seemed nice."

He scoffed, "Not to anyone who was lower status. Women like her are like a vase, they are pretty to look at but that is all. They serve no real purpose."

I sighed, "I hope you have a merry Christmas."

"You too, Ms. Croix."

I shook my head, "J.D." I stepped on my tiptoes in my boots and kissed his cheek. I grabbed my bags and left the hotel. The air was fresh and crisp and amazing. I had no rules and no expectations. I was free, truly free.

Saturday Morning – a few months later

The wedding day

I fumbled with my dress and hat. Italians always wore hats to weddings. I still smelled like the bar from the night before. We had been soaked in wine by the end of the night. Greeks were crazy like that. I could see there was still a bit of tannin on my knuckles.

I looked once more at myself and nodded. It was as good as I was going to get.

Brandi gave me a cockeyed look, "That really is the best you could do? It's a March wedding. You need something springish."

I rolled my eyes, "Bran, I'm here as the ex-girlfriend of the guy she almost married. I was stunned when France brought you the invite for me."

She shrugged, "He said Tex wanted you here. Now let's roll." Her New York accent was more noticeable. Probably because I’d been speaking Italian and Greek for months.

We walked out of the flat I had rented for the week.

"How are you for money?"

I shrugged, "Still about ten thousand and two months left; I'll probably be okay."

She nodded back at the apartment, "I stuck another forty in the bureau for you. It's in a sock."

I snorted, "Wow. So I take it things are going well?"

She nodded, "Beyond being five-months pregnant, yeah. You have to come and see the new house. It's amazing. Shawn loves working for Muriel. She is kicking ass in Boston."

I glanced at her, "How are Mom and Dad?"

She sighed, "Mom has snuck over to see me a few times. Dad isn’t speaking to me. He blames me for you and blah, blah, blah. Whatever. Let him think what he wants. He gets no part of my babies and my future."

I hugged her, "I'm sorry."

She shook her head, "Screw him. He's a mean old goat."

I laughed.

"So how's the traveling going? Any hotties on the roster?"

I nudged her, "No. You know I made that pact with Mike."

She smiled, "You know he's gonna be here tonight."

"Yeah. Temptation to the extreme."

"No one is going to judge you, if you give up two months early on this fucking pilgrimage of working at wineries around Europe. What kind of pilgrim are you anyway?"

I laughed, "I know but I want it. I've learned a ton. I know what I want."

She gave me a sideways glance, "What?"

"My own label at my own house. I want the vineyard more than ever."

"In Boston?"

I shrugged, "I don’t know."

"Muriel will do whatever you want. She thinks the sun rises and sets in your ass."

I shook my head, "Crazy old woman. I am not taking a dime from her unless she wants to be an investor and make money."

We walked to the car she had hired for the week. The drive to the villa was incredible. Grassy hills, beautiful old houses and structures, and the sea. It was amazing. I couldn’t believe it was my life. There were no pressing matters, or charities, or creepy men groping me. There was nothing but wine, vineyards, and friends who were like family, even after only a few days. The villa was an old castle with vines growing up it and faded stone fences. There were fragrant trees and flowers blooming, even on the Ides of March. The castle was a giant building with arched windows and a huge circular driveway.

France was waiting outside with Will when we pulled up. He looked sexy, fucking sexy. His white dress shirt and black dress pants were tailored to perfection. Will looked the same but in a grey suit. France's sleeves were rolled up and I could see new ink on his forearms. When the car parked in the courtyard, I jumped out. His face lit up when he saw me, "Jack!" he pointed at me, "You really here?"

I laughed and attacked him. He held me, taking in a deep inhale of me. "My Jack!" he mumbled into my nape. I sighed, melting into him.

"I missed you."

He nodded, "Me too, baby."

I pulled back and ran my fingers through his scruffy face, "Already?"