Zio Antonio didn't ask questions when I showed on his doorstep a week ago. He opened the door, hugged me and said in Italian, "She knew you would come back and made me leave your clothes in the closet upstairs."

It doesn't surprise me that Nonna can haunt me from thousands of miles away. She anticipated my return to Italy down to the toiletries she left in the bathroom. No matter what she says, the woman is more than just intuitive...she's psychic.

As soon as I settled in, I called Dad and left him a voicemail, which I'm sure sufficed since my all-knowing grandmother would've already spoken to him. I hesitated to call Asher, even though I knew he'd panic when I didn't turn up in Atlanta, hearing his voice would cloud my judgment. So, I turned my phone off and threw it in the nightstand, and for the last week, it's collected dust in the drawer.

I've submerged myself in helping at the vineyard. There are several guests staying in the villas, and I've chosen to work for my keep. Camila, Zio's housekeeper, is overwhelmed with cooking and chores, and I've offered to alleviate some of her load. In return, Zio gave me permission to stay in one of the villas, and I chose Kade's.

The intimate space is perfect with its wooden four-post bed, lace-covered windows, and small bathroom. To top it off, I made good memories in this room, and they soothe my troubled thoughts. Even when I'm alone at night, I feel happy being here, but my serenity won't last forever.

With all the guests taken care of for the evening, I prepare for the long night ahead. I make a salad with the fresh fruits and vegetables from the garden and fill a cup with Limoncello. With my dinner in hand, I head back to my villa. I sit at the small table, open my computer, and take a bite of my salad. It's hard to swallow as I second guess myself and what I'm about to do.

Tonight is the night. For the first time in almost two years, I'm going to search Asher on the internet. When he started out, I'd read every story I could get my hands on. It was exciting to see the world falling in love with him, and I wanted to absorb all the great things they were saying about him, but that soon changed.

An article about who he was spotted leaving an afterparty with, overshadows his first American Music Award win. Every news source was talking about Asher Prescott and the actress who was his new love interest. Next to the day that my mom died, it was the worst of my life. I'd called him right away, and a two-hour argument followed. He assured me it was one of many publicity stunts, and I did my best to deal with it. I begged him to put his foot down with his management team, but he refused. He comforted me by promising things wouldn't be like this forever and would change when he became prominent in the music industry. We made a pact that night—I'd stay away from the media stories, and he would warn me if there were appearances with a woman. I've kept my word until tonight.

It's now or never. If what I find shatters everything I think I know about my boyfriend, I'm going to need time to put myself back together. This is the halfway point of my visit to Italy, which will give me a week to process what I learn. And something tells me I'm going to have a rude awakening.

Before I type Asher Prescott into the search bar, I take a gulp of Limoncello and use the liquid to help give me courage.

I bypassed the stories and go straight to the images. Asher's name alone doesn't bring up anything I've not seen before—promo photoshoots and red-carpet appearances. Feeling more confident that I have nothing to worry about, I type in Asher Prescott's girlfriend. Many of the images are of him and fans—nothing incriminating, but I noticed something odd when I typed in the last phrase. Several other options popped up, so I try again. This time, I look through the list and one catches my attention—Asher Prescott and Georgia Slone.

I hover the cursor over the selection, take a deep breath, and click it.

Several pictures cover the screen. Asher and a pretty girl walking down the sidewalk holding hands, eating on a patio together, and various other couple-like activities. But it's one particular picture that has my heart lying in the pit of my stomach. I know it's Asher; the beauty mark on the side of his face is visible. He has the girl wrapped in his arms...and it's not a picture that could be misread. He has his fingers tangled in her hair, and they are chest to chest, with her on her tiptoes. And they are pressing their lips together.

I click the picture and read the story that accompanies it.

Asher Prescott was spotted again with rumored girlfriend Georgia Slone, sister of The Remnants's frontman, Kade Slone. The two were seen at various locations throughout London and most recently leaving an elite nightclub. Prescott is in England promoting his first European arena tour.

There's no way it's a publicity stunt; Kade's sister isn't a big enough celebrity. Asher's management only wants him seen with women the entire world recognizes.

With shaking hands, I finish my drink and type in the search bar again, Asher Prescott and Georgia Slone breakup. I don't bother with the pictures and go straight to the stories. They might not be entirely accurate, but it's said that every story has an ounce of truth.

I click on the first article, and there's a picture of Asher, but this time, he's kissing a brunette at a bar.

Love is a fickle thing, just ask Kade Slone's sister, Georgia. Less than a week after her and teen heartthrob Asher Prescott were caught in a massive show of P.D.A., he was spotted with French model Bridget Alexis in quite the compromising position.

Sources close to Georgia say she is heartbroken and thought she and Prescott were exclusive. Little brother Kade has reportedly contacted his sister's ex-boyfriend and had some choice words for him.

We might feel sorry for Georgia, but with Prescott's track record of whirlwind romances, it is difficult. Remember, kids: if you play with fire, you're bound to get burned.

I drop my head onto my arms, and the first sob that escapes me is uncontrollable. It hurts as it rattles my entire body, and I can't get enough air in my lungs. A cloud of humiliation lingers over me and rains down in a fierce storm.

Asher told me his phone was having issues while in Europe, and he was working to get it fixed, but it was hard with his schedule. I believed him. Never once did I think he'd lie to me. He was my savior when my world was crashing down around me—my first friend in a new town, my best friend, my boyfriend, and the boy I thought I'd one day marry and have kids with. We were just waiting for the craziness of his life to slow down, so we could be normal again.

God, I trusted him, and he took advantage of my naivete.

The roller coaster of my emotions is a wild ride, racing out of control. Jumping up from the table and drying my eyes, I rush from the villa. It's quiet outside as I march across the lawn and into the house. I pass my uncle in the living room, take the stairs two at a time, and grab my phone from inside the nightstand.

"Nipote, what are you doing?" Zio asks as I come back down.

"Just getting my phone," I reply in Italian and show him the object in my hand.

"Are you all right?"

I nod, wish him goodnight, and walk into the kitchen.

Prying open the freezer, I snatch a bottle of liquor and head out the back door. I discard the Limoncello's cap into the grass and begin drinking from the bottle on my way back to my room. As soon as I'm inside again, I turn on my iPhone, and it goes berserk. I have two missed calls from my Dad, one from Nicky, and ten unread text messages and four calls from Asher Prescott. I don't even bother to read them and let my fingers take control.

Fuck you!! I text.

I take another large gulp from the bottle and feel the burn of the liquor racing into my stomach. If I could open a vein and pour it straight in, I would. It can't numb my pain quick enough. I don't want to feel this hurt. I just need to drown it...kill it. Unlike my relationship with Asher, my pain's demise will not be drawn-out.

I call Nicky, and the line rings once before he picks up. "A.J. are you all right?" he says sounding relieved.

"I'm fine, but I need you to give me a phone number."

"Okay, whose?"

"Kade's. Can you text it to me?" I ask and gulp the Limoncello.

"Yeah."

"Thank you, Nicky."

Before I can disconnect, my brother stops me. "I'm not sure what's going on with you, but you know if you need me, I'm here, right?"

"I know, and I love you for it."

"Love you too, little sis."

As soon as I end the call, a text comes through. Thinking that it is from Nicky, I open it up.

Asher: What the hell is going on? Where are you?

Fuck you!! I text again.

The next text comes from Nicky with Kade's number. I can't just call him. He won't recognize my phone number and is unlikely to answer, so I opt for a text.

Hey, it's Ariella. Can you call me when you have a minute?