Page 197 of Massimo

But my absolute favorites were her rings. They were way too big for my tiny little fingers, but I loved putting them on and admiring them. Sometimes when Mama caught me, she would smile and take off her wedding and engagement rings and let me wear them for a few minutes.

But my favorite was when I got a ring of my own –

Out of a bubblegum machine.

I was five years old. I don’t remember why I was in the store – whether it was in Venice or on another vacation – but I remembered my excitement when I put in the coin my father gave me, turned the handle clack-clack-clack, and my very own ring came tumbling out in a plastic bubble.

It was cheap – painted shiny gold, with a piece of clear plastic that was supposed to be a diamond – but I loved it.

I wore it every day for months until the gold paint flaked off and the ring finally broke.

Massimo had unknowingly summoned all those memories of when I was five years old, before tragedy destroyed everything…

When I was still innocent and didn’t know my parents might not always be there…

And my most treasured possession was a toy out of a bubblegum machine.

As I looked at my new ring, I knew it was childish…

But that’s how Massimo made me feel: like a child.

In a good way. The best way possible.

Happy… playful… like I was living inside a storybook…

And he made me feel safe.

Safer than I’d ever felt since I was six years old.

“If I had my phone, I would totally take a picture and put it on Instagram,” I said as we started down a muddy back road.

Massimo chuckled. “Wait until we get you a better one.”

“Nope. As soon as I get a phone, I’m posting it.”

“Won’t people make fun of you?”

“Oh yeah,” I agreed happily. “Fuck ‘em.”

He laughed out loud, stopped me in my tracks, and kissed me.

I was the happiest girl in the world.

After we started walking again, hand in hand, I told him, “I used to have a ring like this when I was little.”

“What happened to it?”

“It broke.”

“Did you keep it after it broke?”

“…no,” I said, and suddenly became somber. “I threw away a lot of things when I was little that I wish I’d kept.”

Massimo could tell that something had shifted.

“Like what?” he asked gently.

I stared off into the distance, lost in the past. “I had a little stuffed rabbit that I loved. I don’t know when I got it – it was just always there, ever since I could remember.

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