Page 94 of The Roman Holiday Rule

“Thank you all for coming. It’s such a delight to gather together with Reena Brooke’s fans, especially on this occasion, in Rome. When she came to Rome, she had a mere few weeks to experience the city.”

Lexington talks about the things Reena saw and how she met her future husband, first a picture he took of her, then running into him later, and then getting to know him as she saw Rome.

“I’ve titled the painting you’re about to see asFirst Kiss.”

Why does Lexington get to title a Reena Brooke painting? An uneasy rumble, like at a fault line before an earthquake, shudders through my body. The pieces start to fit together.“My parents met in Italy.”

She’s talking about her mother. The realization knocks the air from my lungs like I’ve been slammed from behind.

“I think her paintings are so beloved because meeting the love of her life colored her Italian experience and all that love spilled into her art.”

How did I miss that? Why didn’t she tell me? I pinch the bridge of my nose. All those stupid things I said, lumping all tourists and visitors together and calling them oblivious or disillusioned, and Lexington was coming to retrace her mother’s steps from the trip that produced some of the best Rome paintings in the twenty-first century.

No wonder it was so personal to her, no wonder she was so hurt.

There’s no way to fix this, even if I thought it was smart to.

Gia lifts a hand to the top of the red velvet fabric covering the painting.

“This is her most personal piece, as it’s the site of her first kiss with the man she would marry.”

All heads are turned toward the covered painting except mine, which is how I end up seeing Lexington shoot a lightning-quick glance at me as she says the wordsfirst kiss. Hot, pained, and hurt.

You’re leaving, I want to shout over the crowd. I’m not sacrificing my life goal for a woman who won’t stay. Not again.

TheRoman Holidayrule is stronger than us.

My past is stronger than my heart.

Her mask is back on. The smooth, controlled Lexi. “Ladies and gentlemen, the last revealed painting of Reena Brooke Walker.”

Gia gives a slight tug, and the heavy fabric ripples to the floor. Floodlights illuminate the painting. Even though I saw it this morning, even though I’m across the room, it still takes my breath away.

The crowd murmurs their appreciation. Several people stand for a better look, and soon everyone is out of their chairs and stepping closer. Lexington proposes they form a line so every guest has a chance to peruse the art. She answers questions into the microphone so that everyone will hear, and the second question is about the location of the pavilion.

She doesn’t glance at me again. “On the property of Mr. and Mrs. Gallo, behind their palazzo.”

She points them out—they’re here?—and soon there’s a swarm around them. I was afraid of that. The site is now a hot spot, and the pavilion is beyond repair.

After the interview a few days ago, Mr. Gallo said his wife can pick out the people who stick. Lexington’s leaving tomorrow, but on a deeper level, Mrs. Gallo is right. When Lexington found out about the pavilion’s destiny, she sought me out and fought for us, tried to understand, walked right into the hard stuff and communicated.

Meanwhile, I lied when I told her getting my dad to Italy is the only thing I’ve wanted for the last five years.

But I can’t have Lexington.

I slip out into the night, shut off my phone, and head to our Heart of Italy exhibit. I need to dispose of the bet photos before she sees mine. It will only hurt us both more.

Fifty-Three

Lexi

Mondaymorningafter the festival days are done, I meet Gia at the Department of Cultural Activities building and she leads me to her corner office for a festival follow-up.

As expected, her workspace is the manifestation of a calculator—precise stacks of color-coded folders, pins on a large map, columns and lists printed and tacked on corkboard, and a completely cleared-off desk.

I inhale the organized atmosphere. Tidy, sterile air that clears the mind of clutter.

Gia offers me a seat and perches on the edge of her desk chair, steepling her hands. “I know you have a flight this afternoon, so I’ll get straight to the point. The mayorandthe deputy mayor for the Cultural Development of Rome called to congratulate me on the successful collaboration between the city and the cultural institutions, foundations, and museums. The artists are satisfied with sales and attendance, the authorities had no issues with logistics, and the online feedback was overwhelmingly positive. Even your add-on Heart of Italy coin-voting brought in quite a bit of money.As you requested, I’ll use the money to set up an arts scholarship fund. Mark Russo dropped the coins off an hour ago without even mentioning which of you won.”