“. . . talented,” I finally finished, keeping most of it for myself and letting Daisy draw whatever conclusions she wanted from that.
“I love it, I fucking love it!” She bit into her pastry with gusto, little bits of powdered sugar blowing this way and that as she chewed. “So were you together the entire time you were there?”
I nodded. “Pretty much. We were practically inseparable, and naked a lot of the time. Don’t get me wrong, we were enjoying everything that Spain had to offer, but we were also enjoying each other, too. A lot.”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it. This story really makes me regret spending that summer working with my dad at the accounting office. Continue,” she teased, and sipped more coffee. “How did you leave things with him when you left Barcelona? Is he why you came home early?”
“Kind of. My advisor called, a call I’d been dodging since I’d been spending so much time out of the program and in bed with Marcello, but it turned out to be a great call. Here I thought I’d be in trouble for skipping classes and hurrying through assignments, when the truth was, what I’d been turning in had been some of my best work yet. Something about that time in Barcelona, even though a lot of it felt like playtime, actually focused me, made the time I spent in the studio super sharp. And somebody saw something in the work I was doing, and just like that . . . I got an offer to intern at the museum back home.”
“Right, that’s right, at the Gardner!” Daisy cried, her face scrunched up as she put all the pieces together. “And when you came home you were all tanned and glorious and gypsied out and you were talking about traveling for the rest of your life and wanting to get your master’s at that university in Italy and boy did that piss Daniel off but then . . . wait a minute.”
Her voice trailed off, still putting puzzle pieces together. I watched and waited as understanding came over her face. “Daniel.”
“Yep, Daniel. Once I was home and settled in, well, that path was pretty well set.”
“And Marcello—”
“Marcello was still in Barcelona. Waiting for me.” I blinked, feeling my throat begin to close up a bit, a lump forming. “Daniel, not my parents, had picked me up from the airport when I flew home. Daniel, the golden boy I’d left behind when I went off to Spain. Daniel, the boyfriend I truly and deeply loved and was convinced I’d miss terribly the entire time I was abroad. Daniel, the boy I let conveniently fade into my background when a man showed up.
“Marcello happened, and then that was it for me. But when I came down the escalator at Logan Airport, and Daniel was waiting for me at the bottom with balloons and flowers and a sign that said Welcome Home Baby! . . . there was a part of my heart that hadn’t entirely been given to Marcello that softened once more for him.
“Make no mistake, I was still determined to follow the plan. Get home, get settled, get into a groove at the museum, and then once all my ducks were in a row, break the news to Daniel. Looking back now, I should have reversed that entire order. Because once I was home, and settled, and into my groove, my ducks became fucks. Well, one last duck, for old times’ sake.”
Daisy interrupted me, shaking her head. “You don’t have to talk about this part, Ave.”
“No, I do, though, you know? It’s all part of the story.” I wiped a tear with the back of my hand.
“I thought, what could it hurt, right? Daniel was a wonderful boyfriend, and we’d been together for such a long time, and being back at home stirred up some of the feelings that had been dormant the entire time I was in Spain. And that one night I spent with Daniel, with every intention of breaking things off once and for all . . .
“Things are never black and white. I’d planned on telling Daniel about Marcello, I really had. But it turned out I’m not this fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants-love-can-conquer-all kind of gal, at least not outside of that little bubble with Marcello.
“I chickened out. I panicked. I spent every waking hour at work, dodged Daniel as much as I could, and strung him along for three entire weeks. And that whole time, I avoided Marcello, too. He’d call, I’d email back. He’d reply to the message, I’d call when I knew he was asleep or in class and leave a voice mail. I was confused and scared and I had no idea what to do.”
Until a little blue plus sign changed the trajectory of three lives.
I didn’t have to say that part out loud.
“Well, you at least knew that part of the story.”
She nodded, patting my hand, her own eyes bright with tears.
I never told anyone what had happened while I was in Spain, but when I found out I was pregnant, and I knew enough time had passed that it was Daniel’s, I had to tell someone, I couldn’t go through this alone. So I told my best friend, who knew even before I told Daniel.
“And then it all just happened so fast. Once Daniel knew he was going to be a father he went out and bought a ring the next day. Our families were toasting the proposal at the country club by that weekend. I flat-out panicked, one hundred percent, no question about it. And I made the biggest mistake of my life by not telling Marcello the truth. I couldn’t face him. And like a coward, I stopped returning his calls.
“It wasn’t a slow fade with promises of calls or emails. We detonated and it was all my doing. He was blindsided.
“But I’d made my decision that this was my path, this was what had to happen for the good of my new family.”
She nodded her head. “And you never got back in touch with him?”