Page 44 of Marry Me in Rome

I imagined my sisters calling my phone over and over, wondering what happened to me. For all they knew, I disappeared with Matteo this morning and never returned.

Come on, Jillie. You just told Dad you’re a grown woman, so think like one. There has to be a solution. There always is.

The American consulate? Maybe they could help. If only I knew where to find them.

“Politzie?” I asked the watch’s owner before she could stride away. That meant “police,” right? Surely they could tell me where to go, or at least find someone who spoke English.

She rattled something off in Italian and strode away. It didn’t sound very nice.

I had no choice but to keep walking, hoping an option would jump out at me.

At least I could thank my father for one thing. He had offered me a glimpse of my future if I kept protecting myself—divorced or forever single, lonely, and struggling to grasp at any string of meaning in my life. My declaration at the Mouth of Truth had been a lie. I’d experienced love again and again. But I stayed by the exit, often using it at the first opportunity.

Because the worst possible outcome would be having my heart broken a second time. Which Matteo had done in a big way tonight anyway.

My aching feet cried out for rest. I’d probably walked three or four miles in these stupid pink shoes. Blisters already formed in several places. Spotting a bench on the sidewalk ahead, I took a seat, not caring that I basically sat in a puddle.

As awful as that pizza date with Dad had been, I wasn’t surprised. I already knew what my father was. It hurt, but it didn’t change anything.

Matteo’s betrayal, on the other hand, had completely blindsided me. If it weren’t for his mother’s grand entrance, he would have asked me to stay in Rome and I would have doneit. No thought for tomorrow, no worries for my sisters or the inheritance or anything else. I’d have chosen him and let the rest fall into place however it needed to.

“I finally committed to a relationship, and the door slammed in my face,” I told a lone pigeon walking on the sidewalk. “Just as I always knew would happen.”

He bobbed his head, almost dancing as he searched the cracks for crumbs. At least he agreed with me.

“You’re right,” I told him. “That might be a little dramatic. I barely know the guy. I should say, I don’t know his favorite food or movie or where he got his first camera. If there’s a band he loves, I probably couldn’t even pronounce the name of it. Did he and his sister ever sneak out of the house as teenagers or play practical jokes on their teachers at school? I don’t have a clue.”

The pigeon made his way to a tree and pecked at the base. I always thought pigeons slept when it got dark. Weird that this one was an exception. Maybe he felt the need to be alone like I did.

“There’s so much I don’t know about Matteo,” I said softly, “but there’s so much I do. Like how he squints his eyes in the afternoon and how his finger traces the inside of my palm when we hold hands, or how he clears his throat when he’s taken off guard. I love when he’s trying to hold back a smile but can’t. And when he gets embarrassed, he purses his lips like he disapproves but I know he doesn’t.”

The bird looked at me, blinked, and curved around to the other side of the tree. First I talked to Dante the dog, and now a random pigeon. I would seem full-on crazy to anyone who passed. Thank goodness for the rain starting up again.

“I don’t know if I want to marry him, per se. I wanted to kill Matteo just yesterday. I feel like that kind of decision warrants at least a few days of knowing each other.” I chuckled to myself. “But I know enough that I want to know more. Not just more,but everything. And I can’t help but think that I would have strayed away from the exit and deep into the building for him. Maybe even padlocked the door closed eventually. You know?”

The bird continued to peck at the tree roots.

“Yeah, that’s true. Too many metaphors. There’s the river thing, and I thought he was shallow but it turns out he’s really deep and slow but also has these really awesome rapid-river moments that keep him interesting. Then there’s the whole emergency exit thing. Oh, and the fence.”

The bird cocked his head, lifted his wings, and flew off into the night. In the same direction, I saw a crowd gathered in front of a building with huge columns. It looked vaguely familiar.

I rose and headed toward it, finally recognizing the area. Trevi Fountain. The Colosseum wan’t far from here. The building opened up to a massive fountain with people taking photos and turning to toss a coin over their shoulder.

That’s right. The tradition. Any other time, I’d have dug deep into my pockets and thrown in all the coins I had. One to return to Rome, two for falling in love with an attractive Italian, and a third for marrying that person, according to the legend. But instead, I stood back and admired the fountain from a distance.

If I meant to fall in love again someday, I would do it under my own power. Whether it ended or lasted forever, it’d be my decision. No more survival mechanisms and no more excuses.

Now I just had to figure out what to do next.

A chill settled on the city as the darkness overhead grew thicker and lower until fog filled the streets. I approached a few of the tourists who looked like they might speak English, but they simply stared at me and hurried away. I probably looked insane with my wet, ratted hair and dripping pink dress. Like a beaten Cinderella who limped with every step.

“Can I borrow your phone?” I asked a teenager currently texting at a high rate of speed.

She looked at me, dug into her pocket, and shoved a fistful of coins into my hand. Then she continued to text as she walked the opposite direction.

Not super helpful, but it was something.

I approached the fountain, gripping the coins in a sweaty palm. “Can you do anything for me, naked gods?” I asked the giant statues.

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