I’m alone, head spinning.
Listen to my head, or my heart?
How many times can I make the same measurements before I cut?
Chapter 16
Bite the Bullet, Tell Him You Love Him
Sienna forces Ricky to pose for pictures with her on the bow of the boat. Sienna is a natural model who knows her angles, and she uses every bit of the frame. It’s obvious, even from my vantage point on the top sundeck of the superyacht. Ricky, on the other hand, is clunky and robotic, without any idea of just how much of a smokeshow he is. All the girls yell at him to take his shirt off, but he resists. He looks uncomfortable as he flexes for the camera.
“Damn, she’s hot.” Topher materializes beside me and leans over the railing. “I can’t believe she said yes.”
“Yeah, me neither.”
He punches my shoulder. “Since we’re alone, tomorrow night. Sienna’s surprise. Let’s go over the plan.”
It sounds easy enough. All I have to do is sneak out of the rehearsal dinner without Sienna seeing (sure thing), somehow find my way to the docks of Positano alone and at night (. . .right. . .) and create a magical moonlit boat ride for Topher and Sienna toCapri (no pressure) while I wait for Topher to show up. Topher will make sure Ricky brings Sienna once everything is set.
Okay, never mind, reader, it’s not all that easy—in fact, it feels unnecessarily complicated and convoluted, but, hey, it’ll give me more time with Ricky once they sail away.
“Sounds good,” I say. “Whatever you need. She’s lucky to have you, cous-bro.”
“I’m the lucky one,” he says. “To love a DeLuca is a privilege.” I know what he means.
Maybe it’s the sun and seaandbeing in such constant, close proximity to Ricky while realizing how much time has transpiredandthe fact that our entire family is in the same place at the same timeandI’m next to my older cous-brother, something that doesn’t happen often anymore, but I’m feeling overly sentimental.
“I’m happy you’re happy. I’ve missed you, Toph.”
“Me too, bro.” He pauses, giving me a once-over. “You okay?”
I train my eyes away from Ricky and focus on the rows of houses and buildings that make up Positano as it slowly comes into view ahead of us. “I’ve been having a hard time. I don’t really talk about it much because I feel like after last year, everyone got sick of hearing me cry, but I’m feeling lost, more than usual.”
“Because of Ricky?”
“Being around him, but not being honest with him, telling him I love him—sorry, dude, I tried not to tell you, but I’m still so in love with him and I’ve kind of been scheming to win him back, which now feels futile because it’s bringing so much to the surface instead because I’m realizing that though I love him more than anything, we need to also work through all the hurt andtalk about everything, and it’s suffocating me.” The admission surprises me.
“What do you mean?”
“For most of my life, I made being Ricky’s best friend my entire identity. Then I was his boyfriend. I used to dream about our wedding before I had my learner’s permit. I grew up looking at my parents’ relationship and how my dad treated my mom like garbage when I was little, but she took him back so many times, and when things finally got good, he got sick, and—” I take a deep breath and focus on a small fishing boat piled high with crab cages anchored offshore. “I never figured out who I was outside of Ricky.”
“Fielder Lemon, born with sneakers on his feet,” Topher says, echoing what Nonna used to say about me trying to be grown before I was ready. He drapes his arms around me and squeezes. “Give yourself more credit. Your Clock channel is—”
“It’s hard being a hyperreal version of myself all the time online, especially now that Ma and Nonna rely on whatever money I make to help with the bills.” It’s not lost on me that I’m complaining about money while sailing around the Amalfi Coast on a superyacht, which compounds my guilt because life isn’t bad, not by a long shot.
“Are you guys doing okay, financially?” Topher asks. “Have things been bad? My mom hasn’t mentioned anything to me.”
“Queen G basically works seven to seven, and between her paycheck, Nonna’s Social Security, and @LemonAtFirstSight, we keep the lights on. And even though Ma needs my help, she’s making me save as much of my money as I can, especially now, after graduation. But, like, a couple months ago, when we got thatnasty storm, a tree fell on the house and Ma needed to replace the roof because insurance wouldn’t cover it. That depleted her savings, and I had to cover her car payment. Sometimes, we have dollar ramen and PB and Js for a few weeks.”
“Why didn’t you come to me?” Topher asks. “I can help.”
“It’s embarrassing, Toph.” I wipe a stray tear from my cheek. “Asking for help. Ma doesn’t want to burden you. Or take advantage.”
“Burden? Really? You’refamily,” Topher says. “We were raised to help each other. I know what it’s like to scrimp and save and barely get by. I worked my ass off to get out of that, but what’s the point if I can’t help my family? Why do you think I worked hard? For this? A superyacht? Sure, that’s nice, but I wanted to help my family. So let me.”
“I know, but—that also makesmefeel like a failure,” I admit.
He steps back. “What do you mean? You’re still young!”
