Page 79 of It's All Sun and Games

As I hurry to my apartment, to get ready for tonight, I tell my phone to divert all of my calls and I turn my notifications off.

I said I wanted a sign and I got it.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a party to get to – and no idea how I’m going to get there.

35

Standing outside Andrea’s family’s restaurant, I take a moment to gather my thoughts. The welcome glow of the restaurant’s lights spills onto the pavement, beckoning me inside, like I’m some kind of moth.

I take a deep breath and attempt to give myself a pep talk before I head over, because now that I’m here, I’m nervous.

I feel empowered too, standing here on my own, taking my life into my own hands, doing what I want to do, what will make me happy. I know that my happiness lies with Andrea, for sure now, and even if he’s going to LA, well, we’ll cross that ocean when we come to it.

Right now, all that matters is celebrating Nonna’s birthday and being with Andrea and his family. Yes, I’ve pretty much abandoned my job – and probably my career – but I did it all for a boy.

Oh, God, I did it all for a boy.

No, no, it’s not like that. I did it all for love. Doing it for a boy sounds stupid; doing it for love sounds impossibly romantic.

I have a whole plan. I know I need to make it up to Andrea for seemingly dismissing his hundred-year-old nonna’s birthday party, and then very really dumping him by using what was supposed to be my pretend way of pretend-dumping him.

So, I’m here, and I got here all on my own, in a taxi with a driver who didn’t speak a word of English. I should learn the language properly at some point, I know, but for now I’m relying on an online translator. And so far, it seems to be working a charm.

Okay, here we go, let’s do this.

With a newfound surge of confidence, I stroll across the road. By the time I reach the middle, I narrowly avoid being taken out by a Fiat 500, but I’m okay, and I refuse to let it rattle me.

As I approach the restaurant, I notice that it’s even more crowded than the last time I visited. Everyone is here for Nonna. Isn’t that amazing? I can only dream of living to such an amazing age and still having so many people who give a shit about me – I don’t have even close to this many people who give a shit about me now!

Two long tables are laid out with (what I can only describe as) an intense buffet that, truthfully, was probably worth quitting my job over alone. The aroma of delicious Italian food carries through the air, activating my hunger – which is usually impossible when I’m nervous.

Chairs are spread out in clusters, and there’s even a space that looks like a makeshift dance floor, because of course there is. I love that everyone is so into singing and dancing. It makes everyone seem so happy. I briefly wonder if I’ve ever seen my own parents sing and dance. My mum used to sing in the car when I was younger, but the closest my dad ever came to dancing was probably that time he stepped on a rake in the garden. I’m not sure that one counts.

Suddenly I notice Andrea, sitting in a large group with his nonna, his parents, Lucia and Dario, his auntie and uncle, and a couple of cousins. He’s animatedly telling them a story, his smile wide and infectious. His hands move almost as much as his lips as he talks to them.

Okay, Robin, you can do this. I take a deep breath to steady my nerves. It’s time to make things right.

I walk up to them, clutching my phone tightly in my hand, the notes app open and ready to go.

Lucia’s eyes light up with excitement as she notices me.

‘Robin!’ she practically sings.

Andrea turns to look at me, surprise flickering across his features for a split second before it makes way for a warm smile instead.

‘Robin, what are you doing here?’ he asks, his voice filled with genuine concern and delight. ‘I thought you couldn’t come.’

I raise my hand, gesturing for him to pause, needing a moment to gather my thoughts. Then, I glance down at my phone, where I’ve painstakingly typed out the words I want to say to him in Italian – with the help of a trusty online translator. I’m terrified, and I’m probably going to butcher it, but I just hope that the thought behind my grand gesture will be what counts.

I take another deep breath, then another, summoning all my courage, so that I can read what it says on my phone.

In English, what I am basically saying is that Andrea has been such a significant part of my life for so long, and I’m talking about how much he and his family mean to me, and promising to always be there for him. And then finally…

‘Sono molto arrapata di avere più ani con te,’ I conclude.

With a surprising sense of accomplishment, I slip my phone back into my pocket and look up, expecting to see touched expressions, perhaps even tears of joy here and there.

What I get instead is an eruption of laughter.

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