Page 14 of Marry Me in Rome

“Dante!”

I barely had time to register the urgency in Matteo’s tone when something heavy knocked into my leg and swept it out from under me.

I yelped.

The bridge seemed to plunge toward the sky as the camera flew from my hand in midair.

My arms flailed, desperate to grab something to slow my fall. The water rushed up to meet me, opened its cold jaws, and swallowed me whole.

I gasped at the shock of cold. Water tried to fill my nose and lungs and everything else. I tried to open my eyes but couldn’t see in the greenish blackness.

Swim.

My brain finally started working and my legs and arms began listening to commands.

I finally reached the surface and gasped, coughing and sputtering and taking even more icy water into my lungs. It tastedso bad.It even smelled bad. The current immediately tried to sweep me downriver. Simply keeping my head above the waves felt almost impossible, let alone fighting the current to stay near the bridge. So cold. How did people do this inJanuary?

Wait. My camera.

I felt around my neck. Nothing. My hands were empty.

Not. Acceptable.

I took a deep breath and started to dive, but just then, an arm hooked my waist and pulled me backward—against a very hard, verynakedchest.

I looked up at the bridge looming several stories above my head. Only the dog peered back, next to a shirt draped over the rail—although a group of tourists hurried over, wearing expressions ranging from horror to amusement.

“I’ve got you,” Matteo said against my ear. “Just relax.” He started to kick and swim with his free arm, propelling us both toward the bank.

Relax? He didn’t understand the urgency of the situation. “M-my camera!” I managed, feeling myself shivering.

“At the bottom of the Tiber,” Matteo said far too calmly. His hand against my waist, holding me firm against his bare torso, did strange things to my brain. I should be angry, but I had a hard time holding it against him when he was . . .

Well, holdingmeagainst him.

“You d-don’t understand.” I tried to wiggle free. “I need my camera back. Let m-me go.”

His hand didn’t budge. “Your camera is probably sunk into several meters of mud by now, and I’m more worried about you. I should have mentioned before you decided to go for a swim that those January daredevils are pulled in by a boat full of lifeguards and medics to keep them safe.”

“I d-didn’tdecideto go swimming. Your s-stupid dog knocked me in!”

“Dante was only trying to save you.”

“Is that what you call it?”

“Here we are.” We finally reached a temporary-looking boat dock and his grip on my waist relaxed. I shoved free and launched myself toward the edge, where a group of witnesses peered down at us. A man said something in Italian and offered his hands. I grabbed them and he pulled me up to the walkway.

“Thank y-you. Gratzie.” I tugged my shirt back down, trying to straighten my sopping clothes as I dripped a few gallons of water onto the sidewalk and shivered like a fool.

The man scowled, continuing to speak in Italian as Matteo easily pulled himself onto the dock without help. Show off.

Dante sprinted toward us on the sidewalk a moment later, barking and wagging his tail like he wasn’t a stone-cold killer. Someone handed Matteo a shirt, which he used to wipe his face before handing it off to me. As I attempted to dry myself off, Matteo and the group of onlookers exchanged a conversation in rapid Italian, their hands flailing about. Occasionally they would send glares my direction. Surely Matteo was explaining that this wasn’t my fault. Right?

Eventually another witness trotted over from the direction of the bridge with Matteo’s shirt and a second offered a blanket, which he handed to me with a scowl. As I wrapped it around myself, the man muttered something in Italian and turned to leave.

Maybe Matteo wasn’t defending me after all.

“It-t wasn’t my fault!” I called after him. “It was the dog. I s-swear.”

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