Page 96 of The Roman Holiday Rule

Mr. Gallo tuts. “It won’t survive the next strong wind. We have to destroy it before it hurts someone.”

I let out a bitter laugh and withdraw my hand. “Sounds like Mark’s opinion of our relationship.”

Mrs. Gallo lifts her head, tilting it as she looks at me without asmidgen of awkwardness from my oversharing. “What do you mean? Because you’re leaving Rome?”

I rub my hand on the smooth surface of my phone. “This has happened to him before, someone leaving.”

She’s quiet for a minute. “What about the Heart of Italy display?”

Her odd question brings another pang of regret. I miss Mark, and I’m dying to know what his bet photo was. But I made the right choice for my life moving forward. “I was on a tight schedule and didn’t have the chance to see the display. Speaking of, I should probably leave. Can’t miss my flight. Thank you so much for letting me see the pavilion.”

“Our pleasure.”

We trek back across the gardens as the storm’s prologue begins, spitting raindrops that feel like tears on my cheeks.

Inside the palazzo, Mrs. Gallo takes my arm and squeezes. “You don’t have to leave quite yet. You could change your flight. Work things out. I saw you, the way you looked at each other. You and Mark love...”

I’m glad she doesn’t finish that sentence. She and her husband have a strong, abiding love, the kind my mom and dad had. That makes her rosy-eyed when it comes to other people’s stories, but this one isn’t ending how she thinks. I fill in the blank with safer words. We love Rome. We love Luca’s pasta. We love puns.

“No,I can’tlinger in Rome.”I push away the thought that Gia just offered me a way to come back and stay. That idea needs to wait until I can think straight. “I have a full schedule as soon as I get back to Boston. Clients are waiting.” I shrug, mustering all the unaffected nonchalance I can find so we can close this out. “Mark is not in the plan.”

But Mrs. Gallo doesn’t stop, and I have a feeling the speech she gives me is what my mom would say if she were here. “Love doesn’t wait until nothing else is happening in life. It happens when it happens. While you’re grieving, while you’re lonely, while you’re far from home. Even while you’re wondering who you are. Fight love,and it makes things worse. Open yourself to it, and it might heal everything else.”

The storm clouds break open with a loud crack and rain falls hard.

I give Mrs. Gallo a tight hug. “I wish—”

My Uber ride honks from the street.

Fifty-Four

Mark

At noon Monday,Nonno and I enter the eighth-floor conference room of a building in the business district. Nonno shakes hands with several acquaintances, and I give Zoe and her colleagues a polite smile. There aren’t as many bidders as I expected, but it’s still enough to remind me that this is my real life, not the fun bubble I lived in all week.

That’s well and popped.

Mr. Gallo asks for our sealed envelopes, then sits in his leather chair at the head of the long table.

“My team and I will look over your proposals now, so if you want to stay for the results, we’ll have an answer soon.” He makes eye contact with each of us but stops to give me a long, serious look before moving on.

Not sure what that was, but ten bucks it has something do with Lexington. It’s the same look I gave myself in the mirror this morning. Disappointment. Gloom. Despair. Regret.

Planning to destroy the pavilion must be on everyone’s blueprints. It would never pass inspection. It’s not a true, historical structure. No one knew it was in Reena Brooke’s painting. The guilt choking me is irrational, but that doesn’t make it go away.

We file out the door, down the hall, and into the reception area. Nonno strikes up a conversation with one of the other company owners he’s known for ages. Instead of taking a spot on one of the modern couches or chairs, I stand by the glass wall overlooking the Tiber River.

Zoe joins me. “You and Lexi seem really good together.”

Salt. Wound.

I try to smile but my phone rings, saving me. Except it’s Luca. “Excuse me.” I step away and answer.

“Has Lexi left yet? We didn’t get to say goodbye. I liked her.”

Of course. He’s not calling to ask about how the bid situation is going, he’s calling to pry into my love life, which wouldn’t be private even if it existed. I step down the hall, but now I’m almost outside the conference room. I back up a few steps, halfway between Mr. Gallo’s airspace and the group in the lobby.

I press the phone close. “I guess. I’m not sure what time her flight was.”