Chapter 10
The eight–hour flight from JFK to Florence took off at eight sharp.
Exhaustion hit Skylar like a wave, her bruised eyes finally closing
She slept for nearly seven hours, waking to the soft glow of a Tuscan sunset through her window.
Reality sank in – she had really left Manhattan behind.
Alone, across an ocean, starting fresh in Italy.
This wasn’t the future she’d imagined for herself.
Yet somehow, now that she’d taken the leap, goodbye didn’t hurt as much as she’d feared. Even solitude felt more
like freedom than heartbreak.
She’d taken this step with surprising calm.
No tears, no regrets, just relief. And beneath it all, a quiet but growing excitement.
This new mindset lifted her spirits considerably.
She pulled out her phone, reviewing her arrival checklist.
Her Florence apartment and essentials were already arranged.
The only thing making her nervous was the person who’d arranged it all.
The guy she’d been matched with as a child – born the same month and year as her.
What was his name again?
Skylar couldn’t remember, so she pulled out the note her mom had slipped her, adding the number to her contacts.
He accepted her request immediately.
His profile was minimal – Aiden Foster, black and white avatar.
She smiled wryly, pushing aside her mother’s words about “getting to know each other” and “calling if she needed anything.”
He seemed cold, distant.
Better to keep her distance, avoid being a burden.
Lost in thought, the plane touched down at Peretola Airport.
Pushing her three suitcases through the terminal, she spotted a sign with her name.
T–Declaim My Own I ifa
69.3%
Chapter 10
Beneath it stood a family of three.
Her mother’s childhood best friend, Patricia Foster, with her husband and son.
The Fosters had moved to Florence twenty years ago. Skylar only knew Patricia from old photos, a blur of memories
While she hesitated, Mrs. Foster spotted her, waving enthusiastically.
“Skylar, sweetie! Over here!”
Skylar blushed, managing a polite smile as she navigated through the crowded Italian terminal.
The sea of people jostled one of her bags away.
Before she could panic, Aiden stepped forward from the entrance, catching it.
As she approached with her other bags, before she could thank him, he’d already taken another from her hand.
Mrs. Foster quickly had her husband grab the last bag, then took Skylar’s arm, dabbing her forehead with a tissue.
Skylar looked up, surprised by the warmth, meeting Mrs. Foster’s sparkling eyes.
“Welcome to Florence, Tesora!” Mrs. Foster said warmly, the Italian endearment flowing naturally after her years
in Tuscany.
