Page 59 of The Roman Holiday Rule

Lexington doesn’t look at me, but she makes the motion ofcontinue onwith her hand. Great, she can not only watch but also hear my demise. She keeps making that gesture.

Elaborate. Fine. I run through the buildings at the top of my list and explain why. Mr. Gallo nods for the first time since we sat down, and my tightness loosens a tiny degree.

The waiter sets our plates on the table, and when he’s gone, Mr. Gallo continues my interrogation. “What do you enjoy most about restoration, Mr. Russo?”

“All of it.”

Lexington grimaces. Answer needs refinement, got it. “I like seeing a project from start to finish, how a new vision and hard work can transform something obsolete and ruined into something beautiful and useful that connects us to the past.”

Mrs. Gallo actually smiles at me. “And which place in Rome is the best example of restoration, in your opinion?”

“Notthe Miriade hotel. They took—”

Lexington is shaking her head, hard and fast.

I clamp my mouth shut and revise my answer. “The Theatre of Marcellus. It’s a great example of adaptive reuse. It’s been adapted to each time period as a useful building, from theater, to medieval fortress, and now an apartment complex and venue for private events, all without losing its historical integrity or aesthetic.”

I stumble through another excruciating twenty minutes of questions—Mariella’s going to be hearing strong words from me for sending me alone.

Lexington keeps reacting in subtle ways that help me. A head tilt when I wasn’t clear. A slow blink. A silent shoulder-shaking laugh. (That was at a story of mine about a project I did during my master’s program. They asked for an example of one of my failures, and the disastrous project qualifies, but I’m not sure if she’s laughing with us or at me.) Once, mentioning the investors’ possible help to lower prices, I got a thumbs-up so furtive I wasn’t sure if she was just scratching her palm with her pinky or approving of my answer.

But playing the “how’s Lexington going to react” game distracts me enough that I relax a little.

Until right at the end of dessert, the big question that spells my doom.

“What do you think about the relationship between restoration and tourism?”

I can’t help it. I look up and catch Lexington’s eye. It’s the first time she’s made eye contact, and she knows exactly how bad this question is for me. It’s the reason I have no chance with her. It’s the reason for every one of her scowls she’s directed at me since the airplane. She knows I’m in trouble and that I deserve it.

She jumps up from her chair and heads for the back of the restaurant. Passing our table, she halts, eyebrows up and mouth open. “Mark?”

I don’t have to feign my surprise. I stare up at her with my bestwhat-are-you-doingexpression. “Yeah?”

“I keep running into you. Crazy.” Her eyes are unnaturally wide, sending a telepathic message.

I send my own back:What is going on?I trust her, but I’d like to know the plan.

The Gallos are waving at her as if they were friends, which, knowing Lexington, is probably somehow the case. When it comes to people, she’s like a busy hummingbird, except the kind that passes out sweet nectar instead of taking it.

“Oh, hello! What a small world.”

Mrs. Gallo glances behind at Lexington’s empty plate on the table. “I see you found food. Are you feeling better?”

Lexington nods. “Yes, I gobbled down a whole pizza.”

Mr. Gallo indicates the extra chair next to me. “If you know Mark, why don’t you join us for dessert?”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t intrude. I’ll let you get back to your meeting, but I wanted to ask Mark if he could send me the picture he took at the Spanish Steps yesterday.”

She tilts her head and beams at me. Genius move. The picture will show I was at a tourist site this week instead of my previous track record of avoiding all but Trevi Fountain. She’s saving me.

I pull out my phone and click on one of the pictures of Lexington on the steps. She’s giggling with the boy, and the pigeon is in the air between them. The steps rise behind her, bright in the sunshine, and the tourists around them are pleasantly blurry while Lexington and the child are in sharp focus. I send it to Lexington’s number.

When her phone dings, she clicks it open.

Mrs. Gallo holds her hand out. “May I see?” I pass my phone over since Lexington is still peering at the photo on hers.

“He has the highest appreciation for Roman culture and his understanding of spaces, light, and focus blows me off my feet. Every time.”