My insides are an anxious mess. I feel so horrible, I want to crack. I know I can’t, but I want to.
Before I leave, I go to visit Meg in the basement. I’ve convinced myself I could pull this off up until the moment it actually happened, but standing in the dark underground cell, seeing her curled up alone on the cement pad of her prison, I feel like a monster. I tell myself I have no choice—Sal said he needed a distraction, and even if all of Sal’s plan doesn’t check out in my mind, I trust Sal. I know he wouldn’t betray me. If he tells me something is what needs to happen, I believe him.
I go to my bed for the last time that night, and I’m surprised by how emotional I feel, lying there awake, unable to sleep. Tomorrow starts a new life for me one way or another. I leave for the bakery like always, but I won’t open the doors. The Sullivan family won’t have a cake for their birthday. Phyllis won’t be able to come in for her daily loaf of fresh bread. The old man with the bushy mustache will show up for his apple turnovers, and no one will be there to sell them to him.
Now mine are the ties which will be severed, because there’s no going back from this. I’ve betrayed Mateo, even if I didn’t want to. I’ve sold him out. I am a traitor to my family, no matter my motives.
Tonight I go to sleep in the only home I’ve ever known, and tomorrow I leave with only the clothes on my back and no idea what’s in store for me.
I’m embarrassed to admit I have doubts. Strong doubts. As I lie in bed, I consider running downstairs and throwing myself at Mateo’s mercy. Begging his forgiveness and confessing everything I’ve done. I could go to the bakery tomorrow and come home, and nothing would change. My life could go on like it has all these years.
Only without Sal.
Leaving everything I know behind is scary, but considering a post-Sal life feels scarier.
I finally fall asleep, and I almost wish I hadn’t. Then it’s like no time has passed, and I’m as afraid as I was the night before, only now it’s time. Now my alarm is going off. It’s time to get up and go to work—and Sal was very clear that he wants me to do all of this like normal. He wouldn’t even let me pack a bag to take with me, because that would make it clear I was acting of my own volition. He hasn’t said so directly, but my takeaway is that if this all goes south, he doesn’t want it to look like I was complicit. If he took me against my will, Mateo obviously wouldn’t blame me. He’s a little crazy, but he’s not unreasonable.
I pile on clothes though, wearing three different T-shirts and a light sweater. I have no idea what kind of supplies we’ll have wherever we’re going, or how long we’ll even be there. I don’t know anything. I’m putting all my trust in Sal and hoping it works out.
In my daydreams about this moment, it would feel freeing. I would be a little nervous, but mostly excited. This is the biggest step toward an actual life with Sal I’ve ever taken. All the hypotheticals, our imaginary honeymoon, the pretend life that’s only been a joke—it’s actually possible now. All I had to give up to make it happen? Everything.
I’m sure Sal has made sacrifices too, though.
Our relationship was always going to come at a cost. I assumed I’d be the only one paying, with a broken heart at the end of it all. Then when it became clear he really cared about me, I thought we’d split that cost.
I never thought we’d both betray our families to stay together. But here we are.
I pull up behind the bakery, into the blind spot. It’s not that unusual; I park behind the building most days. Sal pulls in a couple minutes later, and though my heart is still heavy and I feel wretched, seeing him makes me feel a little better. A little less alone.
He must be able to see it’s not easy, because as soon as I get out of the car, he comes around and pulls me into his arms, giving me a tight hug.
“It’s gonna be okay,” he assures me.
I sniffle, peering at the bakery, and fresh tears spring to my eyes.
I’m going to miss my bakery. I’m going to miss my crazy family. I never thought I would, but I’m going to miss being a Morelli.
I’ve gone too far to change my mind, and as the strong arms of the man I love loosen so he can pull back and look down at me, I know I don’t really want to; I’m just terrified of this change.