Chapter 11

“Hold on.” Kennedy leaned forward at the table in the dining room later that night. “Matteo bought you a new camera?”

I didn’t want to sound defensive, but I couldn’t help it. “He destroyed the last one. Or his dog did. Whatever. It’s the least he could do.”

“An expensive apology,” Kennedy muttered.

“Did he say where he wanted to take you tomorrow?” Hunter asked, his arm still resting on Kennedy’s shoulders.

“It doesn’t matter. I told him no, and I meant it. I’m spending tomorrow exploring the Vatican with my sisters.”

Alexis tensed, but said nothing.

“What?” I asked.

“It’s just that . . . Jillie, you tend to run away from potential relationships. Are you sure you aren’t doing that again? We can bend the rules for another day if you want to spend it with him.”

I snorted. “I do not run away from potential relationships, Alexis, and how would you even know that?”

Kennedy bit her lip. “Um, I told her about the last few guys. I wouldn’t say you’re running away, exactly. Just . . . prematurely ending things with them.”

Correction—apparently Kennedy and Alexis didn’t see eye to eye unless it meant gossiping about me. I made a mental note not to discuss my love life with Kennedy again. “Not true. Relationships run their course, and it’s best not to lead a guy on if it isn’t going anywhere.”

“Which none of yours do.” Alexis flinched. “Ow.” She leaned under the table to rub her leg.

“What Alexis is trying to say,” Kennedy said through gritted teeth, “is that there’s clearly some attraction there, and maybe it would be worth letting it play out. Just to see what happens.”

That was exactly the opposite of what I wanted. This morning, Matteo and I couldn’t stand each other. By the time he dropped me off at the train station tonight, we could hold an easy conversation. We’d covered a lot of ground in that time. What could happen if I spent a second day with him? Even if I trusted him, I didn’t trust myself. What Kennedy described was the worst possible scenario—getting invested and then having to say goodbye.

“Better to end it before it goes too far,” I told them firmly. “Long distance relationships don’t work.”

Kennedy’s face fell and I stammered to correct my mistake. “I mean, I don’t do them, but it can work for you and Hunter. We’ll be home in a few weeks and then you’ll be together forever.” We all knew it. She’d have a ring on her finger by the end of the year.

“Matteo seems like a nice guy,” Alexis said. “What’s the harm in getting to know him better? You seem like you love Rome, so maybe you’ll be back someday. It might be nice to have a friend here.”

I didn’t want him as a friend, and that was exactly the problem. “I’m not going with Matteo tomorrow. I’m going to the Vatican with my sisters because it’s a sister trip. End of discussion.”

“I’m taking Hunter to the airport around noon,” Kennedy blurted. “I’ll wait there with him until his flight leaves at four. You should go with Matteo, Jillie. Have fun without me.”

Alexis shifted in her chair, avoiding my gaze. “I was invited to zip line at Rocca Massima tomorrow. I haven’t told them yes. I was going to invite all of you, but if everyone has their own plans . . . ”

I glared at my sisters, who were both staring at the table. “So much for our family trip. A whole month together, bonding and getting to know one another.” I shoved my chair backward and rose to my feet.

“Don’t be like that,” Alexis said. “Eleanor said we don’t have to be together every minute of every day.”

“And we’ll have the rest of the trip for bonding time,” Kennedy said gently. “Just not tomorrow.”

Hunter looked back and forth between us and cleared his throat, drumming his fingers. “Look, Kennedy, maybe we should?—”

She silenced him with a single look.

I pushed my chair back in and lifted my head. “This isn’t what Grandpa wanted, and you both know it. I’m going dancing. Don’t wait up for me.” If they thought I would paste on a smile and pretend to be fine with being abandoned for a second day in a row, they were dead wrong. This time, I would do the leaving. Let them see how it felt.

They said nothing as I stormed out.

If the ship’s clubs were back home, I wouldn’t have lasted an hour. Every dance floor was packed too full of tipsy tourists to move, and they yelled over each other as lights flashed around us to the heavy beat. More importantly, every other woman there had someone with them. Because what woman in her right mind would go to a cruise ship club alone?

Besides me, obviously.

After a while, I found a place at the bar and camped there. I kept watching the door to see if my sisters would join me, knowing all the while that they wouldn’t. Kennedy would rather read a book than dance, and Alexis would drown herself in drink before she did anything that resembled dancing or flirting.

This trip would have been so fun with Mom. She would’ve danced with me all night long.

“Hey, pretty lady.” A man took the empty stool next to me at the bar. He looked to be at least ten years older than me and spoke with a heavy drawl, though rugged and handsome in a football player or lumberjack kind of way. Larger than Matteo, certainly, but not quite as tall.

Great. Would I be comparing every man to Matteo from now on?

I tipped my gin spritz with lime to my lips and finished it off, grateful for the numbness starting to burn through my veins. “Hi there.”

“You here alone?”

I wasn’t stupid. I knew how to answer that. “No, here with my sisters. You?”

“Work trip. Record profits, so my boss paid all expenses. Enjoying Rome?”

I’ve barely seen anything I came to see. I’ve been attacked by a rock with a mouth, fallen into the river, lost my camera, and rejected by my only family. Thanks for asking.

“It’s great,” I said, setting down my glass a little too forcefully. Luckily, it didn’t break. “How about you?”

He laughed and leaned too far into my personal space. “You’re a good liar.”

I bristled. “Excuse me?”

“You look positively miserable. Had a fight with a special someone?”

If it was that obvious, this would be a long night. “My sisters, actually.”

“That’s why you’re alone. Not a fun place to be. You know, I’m a little lonely myself in this big room full of people. We could keep each other company.” He winked meaningfully across the room.

I followed his gaze to a dark corner at a couple engaged in an intense makeout session. They eventually pulled apart, still holding hands, and stumbled out of the bar toward the stairs.

The man’s meaning was clear. The dark corner was now available. I’d met guys at bars before, and they were rarely boyfriend material. But wasn’t that the point? A little kissing, feeling special and important for a bit, and then never seeing the person again? No commitment, no drama, only fun. This guy was cute in a masculine kind of way. For a few minutes, I wouldn’t feel lonely anymore. I’d be chosen, cherished, centered in someone’s world.

You had that today, a rogue thought said.

Indeed, I had. The day flashed through my memory—how it felt to be whirled about and embraced in front of the Mouth of Truth, being dragged through the Tiber while leaning against Matteo’s bare chest, leaning against his back and clinging to him as we raced through the city on that scooter. His hard-won smile that I loved making appear while we made pizza together.

Would I really rather have this than that? Did I want to spend the rest of my life embracing the empty imitation of love and running from the real thing?

“I’ve got to get back,” I told him, sliding off my barstool. “Thanks, though.”

“I’ll be here tomorrow night if you change your mind.” He swung around on his stool and started talking to the woman on the other side of him.

Okay, then. No loss there.

As I walked back to our room, I wished I could tell my sisters about the man, but they’d only launch into the “fear of commitment” speech again. Mom would appreciate my story, though. She’d always been a good listener. She also knew when something bothered me and had a knack for distracting me from hard things.

A memory of us sitting on the couch, watching Roman Holiday hit so hard, it made me gasp.

It was the beginning of it all, the stage where we knew something was wrong yet the doctors hadn’t diagnosed her yet. The blissful part of my childhood when I thought the woman I looked up to most in the entire world would live forever.

She’d said something about Kennedy being gone for their movie night, and asked where I wanted to visit someday. I said Italy. Mostly because of my crush on the Italian model, Antonio Gucci, but I wasn’t about to tell her that. My poster of him was taped to the back of my closet for a reason.

“I have the movie for you, then,” she said with a knowing grin.

I expected an animated film, or maybe a teen flick. So the moment the black-and-white movie appeared on the screen, I groaned.

“The best movies don’t need color to be good,” she said. “Give it five minutes, and you’ll be lost in the story. I promise.”

“Fine. We have to wear pajamas, though.”

“PJs? It’s six-thirty.”

“You pick the movie, I pick the attire. I say PJs.”

She slapped her thighs and stood. “PJs it is. I’ll leave it running because the opening credits are long. We have exactly three minutes. Ready . . . go!”

We raced upstairs. I won because I swung around the banister the way I had five hundred times, and soon I was snuggled up against her on the couch while she stroked my hair. I still remembered how she smelled of dryer sheets and dish soap.

“This movie doesn’t have the happiest of endings, but yours will,” Mom murmured as the credits ended and the movie began. “My darling Jillie, yours absolutely will.”