Page 31 of Wasted On Us

“Why is it so much harder now than it was back then?” I grumble into my half-empty rosé.

I made it less than seventy-two hours in that house before I needed to get out posthaste. Rescue came to me in the form of a girls’ night, my sisters meeting me at a local wine bar for some happy hour snacks and drinks.

“Because you tasted freedom and then had to give it back up,” Elowyn explains through a mouthful of cheese fries. “Let me guess. Dad is being overprotective and unreasonable and doesn’t treat you like an adult at all. And Mom—she loves you, and she loves being able to take care of you, but you can tell that she also wants to be left alone to watchThe Today Showand read her romance novels on her e-reader, right? Like the fact that you’re there, in the house, breathing, creates an issue for her. Been there. Done that. Don’t envy you in the slightest.”

Nodding, I absently swirl my wine in the glass, watching the delicate rose color swirl against the backdrop of the bar. This place is called The Chilled Grape, a trendy yet cozy wine bar in the heart of Frostvale. The place is decked out with wine barrels for tables, reclaimed wooden shelves stocked with an impressive array of wines, and soft fairy lights that lend a warm, inviting glow to the space. It’s a local favorite for intimate gatherings or just a quiet place to unwind after a hectic day.

The Chilled Grape provides the perfect escape from my currently stifling existence. Its frosty name reflects the quaint, picturesque town we live in, the wine bar offers a sanctuary of warmth and laughter, a stark contrast to the icy chill that seems to have descended upon my life.

But before I can make a snarky remark about how we can’t all get engaged to a hot guy who lives in our apartment building and fixes our lives, Ensley changes the subject. Eldest daughters are the champions of conflict de-escalation.

“So…” Swirling her Chablis in her glass, she levels her gaze at me. She was the only one of us who didn’t settle for the five-dollar happy hour glass of house wine, instead choosing something pricier and more sophisticated. “Has this inspired you to get serious about a career?”

“It’s not that I was evernotserious about a career. It’s that I can’t think of anything I want to be.”

“Well, you did not have to quit your dream,” she counters.

“Of being a translator and working for an ambassador in Italy?” Even just saying it out loud now feels ridiculous. I can’t believe I ever thought I could be capable of such a thing. “I kinda did.”

“Because of Rick?” Elowyn asks, wide-eyed and sad.

“Yes.” I sigh in defeat. “He’s still there in Italy. But he broke my heart. I thought we were getting engaged and instead, we were breaking up.”

Rick was handsome, funny, and smart, and pronounced mozzarella like a native Italian. He was in the same exchange student program I was and even joined me when I decided to travel on my own. Together, we hatched a plan—one I fell in love with along with the man who’d helped me create it. And then it turned out that it wasn’t meant to be. The one time I really opened my heart to a guy, and he trampled it to death and tossed it in the Adriatic Sea, where it sank along with my hopes, dreams, and aspirations. Maybe I’m being a little dramatic, but I’ve never really recovered from the entire ordeal. I guess you never forget your first real heartbreak.

And sex with Rick was mediocre at best. Because now that I’ve been with Mateo…

The Fourth of July has nothing on his ability to deliver the explosives. It’s like our bodies were created just to join together.

“You barely knew each other,” Ensley scoffs. I know that she’s trying to make me see reason, and to distance me from the pain, but it hurts just the same. “If I remember correctly, he treated you more like a travel companion than a lover. If it means anything to you, I never liked him.”

“You don’t know. You weren’t there. Rick was the love of my life. We spent every single moment together for months.” Now I can’t tell if I’m trying to convince her or myself because when it comes down to it, she’s not wrong. Elowyn keeps looking from me to Ensley and back again, stuffing her mouth with fries like it’s popcorn at a scary movie.

“Did you love the guy or the dream?” Ensley asks cooly. “Face it. You are in love with Italy. You were never in love with Rick, just the lifestyle he offered.”

“I was in love with the guy,” I insist, but my sister isn’t having it. She just glares at me, with her bizarrely reptilian lack of blinking. I open my mouth to argue, then close it again, staring down into the last dregs of my wine.

Because she’s not wrong.

“The dream,” I groan. “Fine. You win. You happy? I suppose you want me to admit I’m too scared to go back to Italy alone. So, even if I wanted to be a translator, I couldn’t.”

“Then go with friends!” Elowyn suggests with her trademark optimism. “Everything is better with a group.”

“Travel costs money. I think we’ve established that I’m poor. You think if I had the kind of money to go to Italy for any length of time that I’d be choosing to live with Mom and Dad?”

Ensley rolls her eyes. “If you want this, you’ll find a way. I know you. You’re determined, and you’re resourceful. It’s your superpower to always find a way.”

Before I can form a rebuttal, my phone vibrates against the table. Loud. Never ones for subtlety, both of them crane their heads to look at the incoming call. “MATEO,” the screen reads.

Elowyn erupts into giggles. “It’s orgasm man.”

Ensley just looks smug. She must’ve told Elowyn about the whole thing. I guess ‘don’t tell anyone’ doesn’t extend to my sister. But then again, I probably would have done the same thing. We’re kind of like the Three Musketeers.

I give them my best glare when I answer the phone, dragging my fingertip across my throat and hoping they understand the implication of my gesture.

“Hey,” he starts, sounding more exhausted than I’ve ever heard him.

“Hey, yourself.”

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