Page 28 of Marry Me in Rome

Matteo didn’t answer, but Vivi looked smug. “Clara.”

“Ah.” I should have let it be, but my curiosity would not be dismissed. “Not a very Italian name. British?”

“American.”

I stared at her, then Matteo, whose gaze was riveted on the floor and full of a growing anger.

“American?” I asked softly.

“Fooled us all,” Vivi said. “She met Matteo at school in New York, a model who pretended to travel to Rome often for photo shoots, so perfect and pretty with her expensive camera and designer clothes. If I ever see her again . . . ” She muttered something in Italian that was probably not a compliment.

An American. After all this time, with Matteo teasing me for being an airheaded, uneducated American tourist, it turned out he’d once fallen for someone exactly like that.

“Are you dating anyone, Vivi?” I asked, desperately grasping for a change of subject.

Her expression grew stormy. “No, but I went on a terrible date last weekend. Did I tell you about him, Matteo? I should have left when fifteen minutes passed and he wasn’t there yet. And then, when he finally arrived, he spent the whole night peeking at his phone until I saw the name. . . ”

We spent the rest of the trip listening to Vivi talk about her tumultuous love life while we sat in silence. Matteo only looked out the window, his hands resting solidly on his thighs.

People sayparadise is the Hawaiian Islands, or Tahiti, or some tropical island like that. I always agreed with them . . . until today. Because stepping out of the helicopter, I suddenly knew what paradise was.

“Unbelievable,” I breathed.

“Welcome to the family vacation home,” Matteo said. “I’ve spent many a summer here.”

A massive glass building reflected the world around it, built on multiple levels to mimic the odd shape and topography of the tiny island. A stone wall surrounded it, a single staircase winding all the way to the water. Huge bushes of pink flowers tumbled over the wall as far as I could see, capturing my breath for a long moment. Soft, bright, colorful yet temporary flowers paired with hard, ageless, unmoving stone. I couldn’t have described me and Matteo better.

I reached for the camera around my neck before remembering I’d left it in my room.

His eyebrows lifted. “No camera?”

“I thought I’d see the world your way today,” I said. But boy, did I miss it already. I wanted to grab my phone and take a hundred pictures.

“Strangely, I wish I had my camera. I want to remember this day forever.” He pinched a lock of my hair between two fingers and slowly, gently, tucked it behind my ear. Only when he dropped his hand could I breathe again.

“Let’s swim before lunch. I’ll meet you at the pool.”

I looked at him, confused, but he’d already moved toward Vivi. They spoke in hushed tones, then he strode up the steps toward the house and disappeared inside.

She came to my side. “He’s going up to change and asked me to show you to the pool. But there’s something you should know, and I don’t care what he says. I didn’t approve of his bringing you here.”

I stared at her, feeling stung. “What? Why?”

“Because you remind me of her.”

His ex. Because I was an American, or something else? “Well, I’m not her.”

She took my arm and began strolling toward the gardens. “I hope not. I haven’t seen a girl consume him like this in a long time. You just met him yesterday, right?”

I nodded. “And . . . I’m leaving tonight.” Saying it aloud made it feel so real. Like admitting a person barely clinging to life would die soon. It pulled something from my heart, and I felt the slightest bit of it unravel.

Foolish Jillie. Even if I was interested in him, I had to return to the ship tonight and follow my sisters to Venice. The entire trip had been planned for me—inspired by Mom, paid for by our grandfather, booked by his attorney, and carried out by Kennedy. I had little say in the matter. Not that I had much to complain about. But today, for the first time, I wished I could duck out of it all and send them on their way without me. Even for a single day.

Not for Matteo, but for myself.

I reached into my pocket and retrieved my newish phone, which currently had no service. I couldn’t reach my sisters even if I wanted to.

“It’s not that I don’t like you,” Vivi said. “You seem nice enough. But it’s taken Matteo almost three years to get over Clara. He was planning a life with her, talking about a family. He doesn’t do things halfway, you know? Once he’s committed, he’s 100% in. An admirable trait in every other way, but when it comes to relationships . . . ”

---