Page 62 of The Roman Holiday Rule

Besides, I followed the Gallos from the envelope picture, and it ledme straight to Mark. I can’t turn my back on that if there’s substance to those coincidences.

I miss my mom. Her advice and wisdom.

In her Colosseum letter, she said to look for any misunderstandings.

I doubt there are any here, but Mark is loyal, I’ve seen that. Maybe this attraction has all been on my end, my wishful thinking, and I’ve misread his intentions. Maybe that look in his eyeswasn’tan echo of my hope for a kiss.

Okay, Mom.

Nerves on edge, I step out and around the corner to find Mark standing outside the gelateria with a chocolate double scoop and my risky raspberry.

Sincerity and gentleness. Start fresh when you need to.My mother’s words seem to whisper on the breeze.

He hands me my cone, dipping his head to look me in the eye.

“Hey. Sorry.” There’s no denying what almost happened, but the fact that I shot out of the store with no explanation makes this all the more uncomfortable.

“You were about to disappear on me. Did I do something wrong?”

Either he has no moral compass or I’m missing something here.

“I think we need to back up and start over.”

“From what point?”

“All the way.” I step closer and try a move from my dad’s handbook. “Hi. I’m Lexington, but you can call me Lexi.”

He takes a big bite of ice cream, watching me like I might be a rabid animal. “Nice to meet you. Do you ever go by Ington?”

I laugh, relieved to find the answering twinge of humor on his face, but his phone rings before we make it any further. I wait, but he doesn’t check who’s calling.

“Don’t you want to answer that?” I nibble at the raspberry, groaning at the deliciousness. It’s bright and just the right amount of sweet. But if it leaves me smiling with little black flecks in my teeth, we’re done. “It could be Katie. Is she still in Boston?”

“Yes.” He frowns. “How do you know about Katie?”

“I heard you on the phone with her at the reception.”

He nods but doesn’t add anything. Despite my prompts, he’s not opening up about his fiancée, and I need to understand.

“You mentioned the Theatre of Marcellus in your meeting a few minutes ago. It’s on my itinerary—I read it’s a great venue. It would be a cool place to be married.” I lick from my ice cream and make myself ask the question. “Do you think Katie would like it?”

He gives me an odd side-look. “She hasn’t been to Italy yet, and I don’t know when she will. She’s not going for an Italian wedding.”

His hesitation in the airport about whether he lives in Boston or here makes more sense now. He must visit the States often, and once they’re married, he’ll likely live there. For some reason, the idea that Rome is temporary for him depresses me. “When is the wedding?”

He rolls his eyes with an indulgent but rueful grin. “No idea. One never knows with Katie. She’s a bit of a disorganized procrastinator. Drives me crazy. It could be a month or six months. I’m just waiting for her to decide.” He tips his head and catches a drip from the bottom of his cone.

I’morganized and plan things.

Everything in me clenches at the impetuous, catty jealousy twisting in my stomach. That needs snuffing out, now.

I grasp for a lighthearted response and instead getStar Wars. “Difficult to see; the future is always in motion.”

Mark snorts and chokes on a bite of cone. “‘Always in motion, the future is.’ That’s the quote. Yoda always uses backwards grammar. What is it with you andStar Wars?”

“It was my dad’s thing.”

“Was?”