Page 30 of From Rome, With Hate

Unsurprisingly, Rome continues to give me the silent treatment. We turn off the main road and start the long drive down a side road leading to the house. A house I haven’t seen in a decade. A large wooden cabin surrounded by trees sits beyond the tall, elaborate wrought iron gate. I don’t remember there being a gate before.

Marcus pulls up and types in the code before the gate doors swing open.

I hold my breath as he drives slowly. Achingly slow.

Why the hell is he driving like this? Sloths move at a faster pace. Marcus’s eyes constantly move from the rearview to both side mirrors, occasionally glancing at Rome in the backseat.

I hadn’t noticed until now, but the air in the car has turned tense. There’s a silent communication going on between Rome and Marcus—a conversation they clearly don’t want me to be a part of, but I know something is off.

I chew on the inside of my cheek, my nerves only growing the closer we get to the house. I haven’t been here in ten years, and the last time I was, I felt like my heart was being ripped out of my chest.

The SUV comes to a stop, and Rome immediately steps out on his side. I’m staring at the house through the front windshield, unable to move, thinking back to the last conversation Rome and I had here.

We stopped yelling at that point, both surrendering to the truth, and our agreement still echoing through the walls of the one place we used to call ours.

This cabin used to bring me peace. Now all I feel is pain, heartbreak, and the acceptance of what could never be.

Rome stands at the front of the car with his hands stuffed into his pockets. He simply waits, staring at me through the front windshield.

“What’s going on, Marcus?” I’m hoping he’ll crack a little since Rome isn’t in the car and can’t hear us.

“I think it’s best I leave the explaining to him.”

I sigh, placing my hand on the door handle. “Are you not coming?”

“In a few.” He glances over his shoulder before turning back to face the front. “I’ll let you two talk.”

I finally open the door and step out, making sure not to sprain my ankle on the large chunks of gravel of the enormous circular driveway. The vine-covered, stone fountain set in the middle is still there, water trickling from the top into the well at the bottom. The yard is still covered in boxwoods and rose bushes, fully in bloom.

Shutting the door behind me, I meet Rome close to the front steps of the porch.

“Honestly, Rome…” I cross my arms, kicking the rocks with the toe of my heels. “I’m shocked you’d have the guts to bring me back here, considering how we left things the last time.”

Nothing. He doesn’t speak a word as he looks at the house. His expression reminds me of Charleigh’s new husband, Asher. Asher’s one of the biggest real estate executives in the city who closed a deal for me on my newest apartment. He looked at my property the same way Rome is looking at his house now.

“I thought you’d have started talking by now,” I tell him, sensing the weight of this place may be hitting him, too. Though, that would require him to have feelings, which Rome Montgomery does not. “Are you going to explain why you brought me here?”

Keeping his hands firmly stuffed into his pockets, he half turns, talking over his shoulder. “You’re a talented interior designer, Julianna.”

“Thank you?” I frown. “I guess.”

Okay, wasn’t expecting that.

He shrugs a shoulder before facing forward again.

“What does that have to do with anything?” I ask him.

He cocks his head, keeping his focus on the front door. “Let’s go inside.”

He starts up the steps. I don’t follow.

“Rome.” I swallow the lump suddenly appearing in my throat. “I can’t.”

He swings the front door open. “If you want me to start talking, you’ll need to step inside.”

I flick my gaze from his to the doorway. From the small bit of the inside I can see, it looks the same. Same wallpaper. Same rich mahogany and black furniture. Same black hallway runner on top of rich wooden flooring.

I attempt to even my breathing and clear the memories from my mind. “Fine.”