Authors: Melody Carlson
Paige does a
commendable job of making it
through the next three days in Milan. Really, the girl deserves an Emmy. Even when handling the paparazzi, who are all over this story, she is classy and gracious and even slightly humorous. As a result the press is eating her up—in a good way.
Even our mom seems to buy her act. But in the privacy of our suite, Paige becomes another person. I’ve heard the expression “a shadow of oneself,” and that’s how she seems to me. Paige’s shadow quietly brushes her teeth, gets a bottle of water, and goes to bed … all while barely saying three words. At first I tried to cheer her up, but now I just give her space. I don’t even mind that we’ve skipped the last two after-parties.
Of course, Mollie, who as usual is tuned into Facebook and the latest celeb gossip, texted me for details regarding the breakup. I texted her back, saying that, although Paige was blue, she was fortunate to have found out the truth and escaped Dylan before it was too late. Then Mollie texted me back saying that she was praying for Paige, and she even asked me to give my sister a great big hug from her and Fern. I had
to smile at that — it sounds like Mollie is returning to her old self and that’s encouraging.
And Mollie’s not the only one who’s doing better these days. I spoke with Fran on the phone yesterday and it sounds as if she gets stronger each day. She told me she’s certain that she’ll be able to come with us on our next trip. “As long as your mom still wants to co-direct,” she told me. I assured her that Mom was fully onboard with the show now — and that I thought they would make a good team.
I was a little surprised to get a TM from Blake too. Especially since he’s been so silent since I got to Milan. But in usual Blake style (at least since his involvement in the new reality show), his text was brief and to the point. He said that Paige was lucky to be rid of Dylan (of course, I totally agree with that) and then he basically said that all twenty-somethings should just take a break from serious relationships—period. At first I couldn’t figure that part of the message out. Was this his subtle way of telling me that he doesn’t want to be involved with me again? But that’s crazy since we’re not involved anyway. Or maybe things with Grace have been disappointing for him. The fact is, I haven’t really given Blake that much thought the last few days. It’s like I really do think that whatever I had with him, or thought I had with him, truly is over. Finito.
This is probably one of the main reasons I’ve really enjoyed spending time with Gabin. And, thanks to Paige’s disinterest in attending the after-parties, Gabin and I have been spending the past few evenings together. He’s shown me more of Milan than I thought possible in these past three days. And last night, our last evening together, when we parted ways in the lobby, he asked if it was okay for us to stay in touch.
“I would love that,” I told him.
“And perhaps I will see you during New York Fall Fashion Week?”
“I hope so.”
Then he asked what I would think if he came to visit me in LA sometime. “Perhaps if the company is doing something there.”
“That would be cool,” I told him. “Then I could be
your
tour guide.”
“I would be visiting you as your friend,” he assured me. I smiled. “I’d like that.”
“I know.” He touched my cheek. “And it is possible that friends someday become more than friends?”
“I think it’s very possible,” I assured him. “But I do believe friendship is the best way to start any relationship.”
His eyes lit up. “You have made me very happy, Erin.”
Just then I felt my heart give a little surge … a surge that made me wonder. Perhaps Gabin and I will become something more … when the timing is right. Then he kissed my hand and we both said “Ciao” and parted ways.
This morning, I feel sad that I won’t see Gabin again for a while. I’m also a bit relieved. I need some time and space to think about this—to decide how I really feel about a long-distance relationship and all that could mean. Because the truth is I’m just not sure.
What I am sure of is that I’m happy that we’re packing to go home. Most of our things will be shipped, but we still have to round up our personal items and get them ready to travel.
“I’m not sure I can handle the paparazzi today,” Paige tells me after the bellhop picks up our larger luggage. Mom and Leah are already downstairs, checking us out of our rooms and overseeing the loading of the car.
“Maybe I can deal with them for you,” I suggest. “Or you could go incognito. Although I’d think with so many tall, gorgeous women checking out, you should be able to blend in.”
But she decides to go with a disguise and, because most of our bags are gone, we decide to do some quick swapping. I switch my tweed menswear blazer, which is so not like her, for her gorgeous Chanel jacket. I also let her wear my fedora-style hat, which she tucks her hair into. Then she dons her oversized Gucci shades. And despite all that, she still looks stylish.
“Even in that getup you look totally fashionable,” I tell her. How does she do it?
“Why don’t you go down ahead of me?” she suggests. “That might help some.”
So I head down first, finding Mom and Leah waiting in the foyer. I explain that Paige is trying to slip beneath the paparazzi radar. But we wait and wait and she still doesn’t show up.
“Are you sure she’s okay?” Mom asks with frightened eyes. “I know how depressed she is.”
I feel concerned too. Not that I think Paige would really do anything stupid, but I do know she’s not herself. “I’ll go check,” I tell Mom and hurry toward the elevators. Just as I reach the suite, Paige opens the door and I can tell that she’s been crying.
“Are you okay?” I ask with concern.
She just nods.
“What happened?”
“Dylan called.”
“Oh.” My mind immediately starts running in circles. This is the first she’s heard from him since the night she said they were finished.
“He apologized.”
“Oh.” I can’t think of anything else to say. But I’m worried. “He begged me to forgive him.”
I go inside the suite, closing the door. I know Paige wants to talk, but I’m wordless.
“He said that he’s really sorry,” she continues. I nod, waiting.
“And he wants me to take him back.” “Oh,” I say for the third time. “He admitted that he has a problem, Erin.” “Right … that’s good.”
“He said I’m the only woman he’s ever truly loved—that the rest were just flings, that he doesn’t want to live his life like that.”
“And what did you say?”
“I was kind of dumbfounded. I mean, I’ve been so angry at him … so hurt and humiliated. I didn’t ever want to see him or hear his voice again. I was done.”
“That’s understandable.”
“But he made me feel guilty.”
“He made
you
feel guilty?”
“Kind of.”
“For what?” I’m trying to keep my temper controlled, but it’s not easy.
Paige sits on the sofa. “Well … I decided to take your advice, Erin.”
I blink. “My advice? About what?”
“You know … what you said about premarital sex. I got to thinking that maybe God really did have a good reason for wanting us to wait. And, like you said, maybe it was the best way to avoid unnecessary heartache.”
“Really?”
“I told Dylan that. As soon as I saw him here in Milan I made it clear that I didn’t want to have sex with him during this trip.”
I nod, trying not to show my surprise. “Naturally, he wasn’t pleased.” “Naturally.”
“And today he told me that Cybil had been coming on to him the whole time—and because I was, well,
withholding
is what he called it, that was why he hooked up with Cybil.”
“And you believe that?”
Paige shakes her head. “No. I’m not a fool, Erin.”
I let out a relieved sigh. “I didn’t think you were.”
“I told him that his choice to cheat was just that —his choice. It had nothing to do with me. Well, except that it hurt me. I told him that he had a fidelity problem that he needed to own up to. I even suggested that he might have a sexual addiction.” She makes a half smile. “That might’ve been an overstatement on my part.”
I shrug. “Or not. It seems clear that he’s had some problems, Paige.”
“Yes. That’s what I told him. And that I meant what I said on Saturday night—we are done. Finished. I will never go back with him. I will never marry him. End of story.”
I control myself from jumping up and down and cheering. “Good for you, Paige. You deserve someone who will treat you better than that. Lots better.”
“I know. Even so, this hurts. And I felt so bad when Dylan started crying. It’s hard hearing a guy sob. I know he’s in almost as much pain as I am. Maybe even more.”
“That might be good for him,” I say hopefully. “If he’s really
hurting, he might rethink his life and some of his bad choices. He might make some genuine changes.”
“Yes. But even if he does change, I will never go back to him. I really am done. There’s nothing he can say or do to win me back.”
I sit on the sofa and hug her. “I’m so relieved for your sake, Paige. I know it must hurt, but I’m really glad for you. And I know that in time, you’ll feel better.”
She sniffs. “I feel better now.”
I look at my watch. “We should go.”
She walks to where her carry-on and bag are sitting by the terrace door, but then she just stands there looking out. “You know, it feels like I barely saw Milan … like I wasn’t really here.” She shakes her head. “And it’s really beautiful, isn’t it?”
“It is.” I reach for her carry-on. “I guess that’s how life is sometimes.”
“How?”
“We miss out on the beauty when we’re distracted with the messy parts.”
“Like messy relationships?”
“Yeah.”
“But you had a good time in Milan, didn’t you?” she asks. “You went out and saw the sights and things?”
“I did. It’s an amazing city. This history, the architecture, the food, it’s all really cool.”
She turns and looks at me. “I know you’re the younger sister, Erin, but I think it’s about time I started to learn some things from you.”
I shrug. “I know I’ve learned a lot of things from you.”
She smiles. “You mean from my mistakes?”
“Sometimes. But I’ve learned a lot of other good things
too. And I’m not just talking about style either, although you’ve taught me some about that. But there’s more to you than just fashion.”
“I hope so.” She sighs. “And I hope I can start getting in touch with some of it too.”
“Maybe we can help each other,” I tell her.
“Absolutely.”
“Ciao, Milan!” I say to the scene outside the window, turning away.
“Ciao,” she echoes, picking up her bag.
“Here’s to happier days,” I say as we leave the suite.
“And to sisterhood,” she says as we walk to the elevator.
While the elevator goes down to the lobby, I silently ask God to make me into the kind of sister Paige needs — to love her unconditionally and to share my life and my beliefs with her. Because, more than ever I realize that — at least for now — guys will come and go in our lives … but sisters truly are forever.