“I know,” I agree.
A wave of nostalgia washes over me as I think of all the times we’ve spent here and the years we’ve been friends.
This is also the last night I’ll be seeing him for a very long time. Playfully, I toss a cheese ball at him. He catches it with his mouth. We both start laughing, and people at the nearby tables glance our way.
“Have you finished packing?” Jacob asks, setting his arm down on the table.
“I don’t know what kind of question that is,” I bubble, shaking my head at him.
He’s my best friend. He should know better than to ask me something like that.
I leave for Florence in the morning in prep to start my sophomore year at the Accademia delle Belle Arti. My dream is to become an artist. I’ve been excited to go to Florence since my father booked the tickets. I’ve always wanted to study in Italy, just like my mother did. Jacob and I finished our freshman year at UCLA a few weeks ago. My bags have been packed since.
If Mom were alive, she’d be really proud of me. Going to the Accademia is the last thing I’ll do to follow in her footsteps. It’s going to be amazing.
“Sorry, my mistake.” Jacob chuckles. His large brown eyes sparkle. “It was more the case of me asking if you’re ready to go. But you were probably born ready.”
I laugh. “I was. I’ll miss you a lot, but I can’t wait to leave,” I confess.
It will be exciting to start my classes because some of the best teachers in the world will instruct me, but I won’t deny that the chance to escape LA and my father’s controlling hand doesn’t appeal to me as well.
Although I’ll have bodyguards accompanying me and I’ll be staying with my uncle, this is the first time I’ll be going to Italy without Dad.
“I get it. I just hope your old man doesn’t have a heart attack.” He smirks.
“I know. I keep thinking he’s going to change his mind.?
? Like he nearly did about me going to college.
I wanted to go away to study right from the get-go, but Dad wouldn’t hear of it. We only settled on UCLA because it was close to home. He wouldn’t hear of me living on campus either. The best things about going there were the courses and getting to see Jacob.
It took the miracle of Uncle Leo’s assurance that he’d look after me and profound begging to get Dad to allow me to go to Florence.
“Fingers crossed he won’t. You worked hard to show him you’ll be fine, and you worked hard for the placement.” Jacob nods, looking proud of me.
“Thank you.”
I know what it means to be a Balesteri, and specifically to be the daughter of a mob boss. My father is a powerful man. As such, he has enemies. I already experienced an eye opener when my cousin, Porter, was gunned down in the street a few years back. My family isn’t average. Neither is Jacob’s. We’re both old enough and smart enough to know where we come from. Jacob’s father works for mine, so we’re well aware of the dangers we could face just for being who we are.
I love my father dearly and I know he just wants to protect me, but sometimes I feel like I’m living in one big gilded cage. Going to Italy will give me a chance to be free. Truthfully, I’m hoping that if everything goes well, Dad will allow me more freedom so I can travel around without constant supervision. Or his watchful eye.
“Your mother would be happy and very proud of you,” Jacob intones.
I draw in a breath, nodding slowly, and he reaches across the table to cover my hands with his. Mom’s been gone for three years now. Sometimes it doesn’t feel real. Sometimes the grief comes back to haunt me, and I remember how she suffered during those last few months when cancer got the better of her.
I wasn’t sure which killed her first—the rigorous sessions of chemotherapy or the disease itself. She didn’t even look like my mother in the end. The only thing that remained was her beautiful spirit. She was watching me paint when she took her last breath. I’ll never forget the way she looked after. Like she was proud of me. Proud for sharing her dreams in art, and proud for my desire to follow my own.
“That means a lot to me, Jacob.”
“I know it does. I’m seriously going to miss you a lot, Emilia.”
“But you’ll come and see me, right?” I ask, hopeful.
He releases my hands and gives me one of his cocky grins. “Every chance I get.”
“You better.”
“You know I will.” He presses his lips together. I stare back at him as a sliver of awkward silence fills the space between us.