Page 33 of Better Than Gelato (Ciao Bella #1)

Chapter Twenty-One

T he world is my oyster!

Although when I actually tried fresh oysters with Jake a few weeks ago, I was appalled that people would deliberately eat something that looks, tastes, and feels like your waiter just coughed up a pile of phlegm onto your plate.

Nonetheless, for the last week, I’ve had the blissful feeling that the world is full of opportunities, and that doors that have always been closed to me have suddenly opened.

It’s early Saturday morning, and Piazza Duomo is full of people.

I find Jake sitting on the steps looking especially attractive.

“ Buon giorno !” he says. “You look wonderful this morning.”

“Thank you,” I say. “I feel wonderful this morning.”

Jake and I spend the whole day together, walking nowhere in particular, eating a delicious lunch, finding charming park benches to snuggle and kiss on.

Jake listens patiently as I ramble nonstop about the photography program, my application, and each of the photos I submitted.

“The career placement percentage for UC San Diego’s photography program is really high,” I say. “There’s a huge range of jobs—weddings, journalism, advertising, sports. And the pay is actually way more than I thought.”

The sun is nearly setting as we walk from Castello Sforzesco back to il Duomo. Jake’s hand in mine makes me feel happy to be alive. And it appears Jake sees my good mood as an opportunity to have another one of those horrible conversations I try my best to avoid.

“Maybe we should discuss how we’re going to do long distance when we go home next month,” he says.

I groan dramatically. “How many ways are there not to see someone?”

“I just mean we could come up with a schedule for visiting each other. I get my exam lineup in a few weeks, and we can plan out some dates.”

“Okay.”

“And then between visits, we can call each other in the evenings or text when we get a chance.”

I nod my head. What else can we do?

“And I’d hope that if you ever wanted to go on a date with someone else, you would let me know beforehand.”

“Jake, I love you. Why in the world would I go on a date with some random guy?”

And then before I can stop it, my brain pulls up an image of me and Lorenzo holding hands, eating dinner together, dancing.

But that was different. A million years ago. Before I fell in love with Jake.

We walk quietly with only the cars breaking the silence. My hands start sweating.

Do I tell Jake about Lorenzo? Does it even matter anymore? That was ages ago. What good would come of telling him?

I keep walking and try to put it out of my mind. But my thoughts keep hounding me.

Do I really want to have some big secret between us? No, I do not. I’ll just tell him and that will be that.

“I can’t wait for you to visit me at Columbia,” he says.

“Mm-hmm.” Okay. How to start?

“ You’re going to love New York City.”

“Yep.” This is harder than I thought.

My face squinches up as I search for the right words.

Jake sees my expression and gives me a smile. “I know it’s not fun talking about this stuff. I just don’t want anyone getting hurt.”

I have to tell him now. I can’t think of a good way to say it, so I just say it the regular bad way, all in a rush.

“I went out on a date with someone while you were in America.”

Jake stops and looks at me. He drops my hand. “What?” The hurt in his eyes tells me he heard and understood.

I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I thought I was breaking up with you when you got back. I didn’t think it would matter.”

He takes a step back. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You were interviewing at med schools! I didn’t want to get in your head and wreck things.”

Jake nods once, like he concedes the point. “Who was it?” He’s not looking at me anymore. It’s better, I can’t stand to see the pain on his face.

“Just some Italian guy who asked me out.” He flinches. Would he have been happier if it was someone in our group? If I’d gone out with Diego and we’d never told him?

“What happened?”

I shrug my shoulders. “We went out to dinner and then we went dancing.”

“Did you kiss him?” His voice is cold. Not cruel, just devoid of warmth. Tears spring up in my eyes.

“No. I never even saw him again after that night. I never returned any of his calls or texts.”

This is not making things better. I just sound like a jerk.

“Why?” he asks, finally looking me in the eyes.

“I felt trapped,” I say truthfully. “I had fallen into a relationship with someone I barely knew. It was moving way too fast for me. I wanted out, but I didn’t want to hurt you or mess up your interviews. An opportunity came that looked like a way out, just for a night, and I took it.”

“I see,” he says. He turns and starts walking. Unsure what to do, I follow him.

“I’m sorry,” I say again.

He shrugs like my apology makes little difference.

I know I messed up, but a fierce little voice in my head is pointing out that I wasn’t the only one who made mistakes.

Jake is walking faster than me, and I jog to keep up with him.

“I understand this is hard to hear. And I know this is a tough conversation to have. But I think we should have it so we can work through it and move on.”

“I wasn’t here, and you went out with someone else at the first opportunity,” Jake says with brutal simplicity. “Doesn’t make me all that confident in your ability to handle a long-distance relationship.”

He gives me a look like he gravely misjudged me. “What more is there to say?”

My heart fills up with anger and pumps it to the rest of my body until I can feel it in my fingertips. “There’s a lot more to say. I’m not the only one who messed up.”

“Oh, this is my fault now?” His arms cross and his eyebrows go up.

“I take full responsibility for my actions. But you’re not blameless.”

Jake stops again and looks at me.

“We’d been dating for three weeks when you told me you loved me, Jake.

And we’d known each other for barely four.

” Jake has the decency to look embarrassed.

“Can you blame me for feeling freaked out and claustrophobic? I didn’t want to have a boyfriend in the first place.

And then everything got so serious, so fast.”

He coughs uncomfortably. “I was just trying to be honest.”

“It was way too much, way too soon.” I squeeze my hands into fists and release them.

“Secondly, it’s unfair to hold me to the mistakes I made at the beginning of our relationship. You and I both know I’m not that girl anymore. And things between us are completely different than they were back then. I love you.”

“I love you too,” he says. “That’s why this hurts so much.”

He turns and starts walking again. I try to follow, but he stops me. “I need some time, Juliet.”

So I stand there and watch the back of his head disappear into the crowd until my vision blurs with tears.

* * *

The next few days are rough. I bring Isa to school. I pick her up from school. In between, I hide my phone under my bed so I won’t text Jake.

I skip dancing Wednesday night. If Jake doesn’t show up, I’ll know it’s because he can’t stand to be around me. And if he does, I’ll have to look at his hurt face all night.

Instead, I play Uno with Isa, read her two more chapters of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone , and then put her to bed. I change into my pajamas and check my email. There’s a message from UC San Diego Photography Department.

I open it with a rush of excitement. It takes reading it twice for the words to sink in.

Dear Juliet Evans,

Thank you for submitting your application to the UC San Diego Photography Department. Admission is highly competitive, and we regret to inform you that you have not been accepted at this time. We encourage you to apply again for next year’s program beginning in the spring.

Sincerely,

Walter O’Brien

Department Chair

I stare at the screen for a long time, then slowly close my laptop. It’s the sound of all my dreams dying.