Becca.

Italy was beautiful. There was no other way to describe it. History radiated off of every building, the Roman statuary and architecture were exquisite, and the weather was beautiful. From the moment we touched down at the Aeroporto di Firenze-Peretola, when I hadn’t been helping Layla mind the children, I’d been glued to my window, staring out at the Tuscan city of Florence.

We took several dark sedans. I was again sitting next to Layla in the back seat of ...