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Allie, I’ve been trying to reach you. I’m assuming you don’t want to pick up, which I totally understand. I swear I never told anyone I made Frank. Please call me back.
I know this looks bad, but I promise I can explain. Please call me.
If I don’t hear from you by tomorrow, I’m coming up there to see you. I need you to know the truth.
Me
Don’t bother. You wouldn’t know the truth if it was growing on your ass.
36
Guess Who’s Back?
Hudson
If this is what it means to love someone, I’m glad I never fell in love until now, because what a huge, giant pain in the ass it is. Feeling this lost, this hopeless, this powerless? It sucks rotten fish balls. But if I can somehow turn this around and wind up with her? Nothing but fresh fish balls from now on. Blech, that was the worst analogy I’ve ever come up with. Oh God, I’m going to have to do so much better than that when I see her.
I’m currently in the back of an Uber on the way to Allie’s house from the airport. I strategically timed it so I’d arrive on Sunday afternoon, when I know she’ll be home.
Unfortunately, this means her entire family—all of whom I’m sure hate my guts by now—will also be there. But so be it, a man’s got to do what a man’s got to do. I’m going to march up that sidewalk, knock on that door, and tell her little niece and nephew that I refuse to leave until I see their Zia Allegra. And if they say no, I’m going to bribe them with two crisp hundred-dollar bills.
My phone pings and I pull it out of my pocket, hoping beyond all hope that it’s Allie.
But of course it’s not.
Gershwyn
You there yet?
Me
I’m about five blocks from her house.
Gershwyn
You sure you want to do this? It’s a house full of angry Italians.
Me
I’m positive, so if you don’t have any words of encouragement for me, I suggest we end this conversation now.
Gershwyn
All right. Good luck, you poor bastard.
Me
Thanks. I’m going to need it.
The car pulls up in front of the house and I take a deep breath before I get out, then make the long, lonely walk up to the front door. I picture going inside and seeing her in the kitchen in an apron, and saying, “Okay, if this is where it has to happen, this is where it has to happen,” just like the scene in Jerry Maguire when he gets Renee Zellweger back. But this isn’t a movie. It’s my life, and I’m not here to put on a show or pretend to be someone I’m not. Allie deserves the real me, and that’s exactly who she’s getting.
My heart pounds so hard, I can hear it in my ears, and there’s a voice in my head that’s yelling at me to turn and run, but I won’t. I force my hand to push the doorbell, then wait, my stomach twisting while I listen to the sound of pounding feet rushing toward me. The door swings open, and I see Camilla and Matteo jostling to stand in front of each other. When they look up, their mouths drop in unison.
Camilla raises her eyebrows. “Oh, snap!”
“Hi, Camilla, is your Zia Allegra here?”
“Nope,” she answers. “And even if she was, I would not recommend trying to talk to her.”
