Page 38 of The Summer You Were Mine

“Hey! Did I catch you at a bad time? I am up early, so I figured you might be around.”

Ellie knew that Cris was heading to the airport to pick up his brothers, who were coming in from the World Athletic training center in Colorado, so she didn’t feel like she was avoiding anything.

Except, she was totally avoiding everything.

She woke up at least four times throughout the night feeling as short of breath as she did when her face was a half inch away from Cris’s, and her chest actually hurt from all of those shots of adrenaline that pummeled her every time she thought of him.

They had spent the car ride back talking more about the show, confirming to each other that doing the interview was the right thing, finding reasons to touch hands and fingers.

Simone had met them at the garage when they got back to Chiavari, so they were only able to say a quick goodbye.

She didn’t even realize how much she was hoping for one more hug until she didn’t get one.

As she was getting into bed later that night, he’d sent her a text: Sogni d’oro, Ellie Canestrelli .

Sweet dreams, indeed. If last night was any indication, she wouldn’t sleep for the next year.

“No, no, this is a good time! I was thinking that…” Ellie tried to think of something to say, but decided to just dive into it. “That I should get in touch with you, actually. I think I have the perfect comeback guest.”

“Really? Wow, who is it?”

“Cristiano Conte? You know, ex–World Athletic Games competitor. Swimmer from a family of water polo players. Brother of the guys from Double Shot .” She paused and winced. “Potential doper.”

“Ah. Yes! I read the Sports Illustrated article and have to admit it sounds pretty bad. How did you make that happen?”

“To be honest, he’s an old friend. Our fathers were on the same team here in Italy and we, um, are both here for the same wedding.

” She coughed. Her throat felt so dry, probably still dehydrated from yesterday’s bacchanal.

She got up to walk to the kitchen and passed her mom’s bedroom strewn with old handbags and scarves.

“Wow, that was fast! Not that I’m surprised.

I guess you still got the magic. Well, that makes my news even better.

I got a call from the agent of that PGA guy who drank a pitcher of mojitos after losing his last tournament and tried to set his speedboat on fire.

They made it clear that he wants to talk about his anger management issues, but, in their words, he doesn’t have a ‘known alcohol consumption difficulty,’ so they’d like us to avoid that topic.

There’s also a few others with less name recognition, but everyone is hoping the first guest of the new season will be someone big with an even bigger story. ”

“I am sure the arsonist golfer would be a good guest, but I am not looking to turn this show into a full-on tabloid. I want to be us—like we’ve always been.

” She opened the cabinet where all the drinkware was, but, as usual, found only small juice glasses.

Her whole life, she never understood why water was always served in the smallest imaginable glasses in Italy, but the wineglasses were four times as large.

It was as though hydration should only be attempted under the strictest dosing controls or you’d end up with kidney failure.

Then again, Italy was also a country that believed you’d end up with instant pneumonia if you left the house with wet hair and muscle paralysis if you let wind touch your neck.

She pulled out one of the tiny glasses and stood in front of the sink with the water running. This was going to take a while.

“I know, I know. It just seems like the only bites I’m getting are a little bit out there, you know?

I was thinking maybe we can have a little fun, loosen you up a bit more, get a little wacky if we have to.

It could be good. Besides, isn’t the Conte story a little wild also?

I heard he was snorting some horse hoof fur or something. ”

“Deer antler velvet, and he wasn’t snorting it,” Ellie said, realizing how exactly like a tabloid it sounded. She filled and drank her first and second glasses of water, shot style, and went in for a third. She could feel her tissues reanimating like a parched philodendron.

“Oh man, really? So it is true?” Omar laughed because it was laughable.

Ellie couldn’t be upset about that. He was doing his job and being enthusiastic because that’s the kind of guy he was.

His never-say-die attitude is what got them over many obstacles along the way.

Yet something about this wasn’t sitting right.

She didn’t want to make fun of Cris. She didn’t want to make fun of anyone.

“He says it is. I don’t really know the whole story yet.

” It was not a lie, but she needed to stall a bit so she could figure out why she was feeling nauseous.

The water sloshing around in her stomach had put her in that purgatory between hungry and queasy.

It was either from lack of food or lack of conviction.

She eyed a day-old slab of focaccia in a folded-over bread bag on the counter.

It might take care of one source of the nausea, but not the other.

“Well, let me know when you know for sure that you’ve got him.

If he’ll come to New York, we can do it live.

I was thinking we could record some new promos, too.

I’ll get on everything, don’t worry. Just catch that big fish, okay?

Then we can call Nate back and tell him we’ve got everything covered. ”

“Oh,” said Ellie, placing a full glass of water down on the counter.

“He did call? What did he say?” Not that she needed to hear what the C-suite at Magniv thought about the situation.

She already knew that if they couldn’t make Games Over work, there were ten other clever podcasts right behind hers that were already practicing their pitches to get her spot.

“He said, ‘It’s unfortunate.’”

“That’s it?”

“Yep. ‘It’s unfortunate,’” Omar repeated.

“‘Unfortunate.’ How did he mean it? Like, ‘It was a clear mishap, no worries,’ or ‘Pick out a coffin’?”

“You know what? I don’t know. Just get the guy, okay? If for no other reason than I gotta hear this story!” He chuckled.

She hung up with Omar and stared at the phone.

She didn’t know if it felt worse that Nate was not happy or that making him happy might mean having to treat Cris like she used to treat athletes on the show.

Just the thought of it made her feel like she needed a shower.

Apparently she’d gone from not trusting Cris to wanting to protect him in about five days.

She sighed. That wasn’t totally accurate.

She thought of the slideshow. It was more like thirty-something years and five days—not exactly easy to undo.

“Ellie?” Peggy called from one of the bedrooms.

“Coming!” Ellie called back, taking another huge gulp of water.

Peggy sat on the mauve-and-cream duvet under a framed painting of the marina in Portofino, which was also distantly visible in real life from the huge window in the living room of the apartment.

Her parents had bought the painting during an art fair in Santa Margherita Ligure, where she and Ben had been allowed to have their faces painted with butterfly wings and eat cream-filled cornetti.

Summer always meant getting to do the opposite of what was normal in the States—eating sweets for lunch was fine, and her parents were always together.

“Everything okay? That must have been Omar.”

“Yes. He’s excited.” She smiled at her mom. “Are you doing inventory?”

“Sort of,” Peggy said, picking up a set of gold earrings with a pearl drop. “Do you like these?”

“They are beautiful, yes.”

“I was thinking you might like to have them.” Her mom held them out to her on her palm. “They’re real, you know.”

“Mom, I know they are real, but don’t you wear them all the time? I’m not going to take your earrings from you.”

“Well, I used to,” said Peggy, poking at the pearls with her fingers.

“But I think… maybe I won’t wear them as much anymore.

” She looked up at Ellie and had tears in her eyes.

Ellie’s heart clenched. Despite everything, the unknown was enough to take anyone down.

She’d been waiting for this chance to talk to her mom, but the words would not come.

What could she possibly say to her mother right now when she was equally afraid?

“Oh, Mom.” Ellie sat down and put her arms around Peggy.

She felt her mom lean into her, a full shuddering sob wracking her body.

Ellie had always lived on the notion that she should have the right words to say to people, but none came.

She leaned over to grab some tissues from the box beside the bed and pressed them into her mom’s hand.

In the end, maybe what someone said to someone else about sad things wouldn’t matter as much as just being there, watching them crumble and wiping snot off their face.

“Do me a favor,” Peggy finally said, pulling away to blow her nose into the tissues. “When you fall in love with someone, make sure you talk to them. Not like with Kevin. Next time, you have to do better.”

“That seems easy enough.” Ellie gritted her teeth and smiled. “I can keep that promise.”

“No, no.” Peggy looked up, her red-rimmed eyes serious.

“Not about the weather or what they want to eat for dinner. Not about the kids or the mortgage or if there’s gas in the car.

I mean really talk to them. Tell them how you feel, your deepest thoughts.

And here’s the big one, Ellie. Tell them what you’re afraid of.

Because, I guarantee you, they are afraid of the same things.

If you don’t do that, you’ll be worried about falling apart, and never realize it doesn’t matter as long as you do it together. ”

“Okay, Mom. I can do that. I’m listening.”

“Good. Now,” said Peggy, wiping her nose and sitting up a bit taller. “Which scarf should I wear? We’re going to play Burraco with Cinzia and Mario tonight and I’d rather people look at my scarf than my puffy face.”

“Your face is fine, Mom. I like the blue one. Wait, Cinzia and Mario?”

“If there’s one thing I know, Ellie, it’s that you never know.”