Chapter 24

By the time Margot made it back to Pompeii, far past curfew, Hotel Villa Minerva was dark and quiet. Giuseppe glared at her as she walked in, but she carved a straight line for the elevator without making eye contact.

He cleared his throat.

Oh no.

Margot backtracked toward his concierge kingdom, the chest-high desk he perched behind, where he rested a lazy chin on his knuckles.

“Hi, Giuseppe,” she said, smiling sweetly. It didn’t quite reach her eyes, but Margot couldn’t make herself care right now. She’d already cried so much on the train home that they’d probably be puffy into the next millennia.

“Margot Rhodes,” he said, holding a cardstock sleeve between two fingers the same way someone might brandish a stinky gym sock. “This came for you.”

Ordinarily, Margot’s heart would have hammered in her chest at the thought of a courtier delivering mail, but tonight? She knew it couldn’t be IRL Bridgerton.

Margot leaned closer, inspecting the envelope as Giuseppe slid it across the desk. It hadn’t been stamped, just addressed to her in a neat penmanship that she’d know anywhere.

“I don’t want it,” she said. She’d heard everything she needed from Van.

Giuseppe lowered his head, unamused. “I don’t care. It is yours.”

He pushed the envelope until it rammed into Margot’s fingertips, where they rested on the counter. She groaned but grabbed the letter, muttering a “thanks” and turning back toward the elevators.

Margot Rhodes, Van had written on the brown envelope. Underlined once, a little ball of ink at the end like he’d pressed too hard. She dangled the letter over the trash can. Was there anything he could say to repair the trust he’d broken? But if she didn’t read it . . . The thought of being plagued by not knowing what he’d said for the rest of her life was worse than knowing and hating him for it.

As she scooted into the elevator, Margot slid her fingernail beneath the envelope’s flap.

Margot,

If you’re reading this, it means you were right and girls do like handwritten letters. Otherwise, I’m certain you would be content to ignore me for the rest of your days, but you have proven me wrong time and time again, so perhaps this will be no different.

I originally sought to complete the Vase of Venus Aurelia as I had done everything for as long as I can remember: alone. You made certain I wouldn’t. Never have I met someone as brave or tenacious or strong-willed as you. Venus may have cursed my heart to stone only so that you could chisel it out and make it beat again.

Although you may not wish to see me again, please know that my apologies are earnest, and I would like to finish this as we began. Together. You’ll know where to find me tomorrow.

With all my heart,

Van

The elevator dinged at the third floor. Margot moved forward without looking up, eyes glued to Van’s words. She read and reread it, analyzing every loop, every letter, every mark of punctuation. Her feet led her down the hall, but her mind was busy decoding each sentence and searching for hidden, backstabbing meanings.

When she walked into her room, the only light came from Suki’s laptop, where she lay on her bunk, probably watching another Netflix reality dating show. She pulled out an earbud. “Your aura is blue.”

“I’m sure it’s fine.” Margot deflected whatever conversation that was about to be. She couldn’t help but notice the obvious lack of icy remark from their third roommate as she slid Van’s letter onto her bunk and flipped on the overhead light. “No Astrid?”

Suki shook her head. “She’s off running around with her secret admirer. Won’t tell me who it is. Keeps harping about how we need to be having intellectually stimulating conversations, not gossiping about boys. As if I don’t know about the Bechdel Test.”

Margot dragged her massive suitcase out from underneath the bed and flopped its lid open. Her carry-on from the Rome trip had been deposited by the door, but that could hardly hold the myriad of outfit changes she’d packed for the summer. Most of which would go unworn. A shame. A new flight confirmation was coming from her dad any minute—she might as well get a head start on packing.

“What are you doing?” Suki asked, dangling off the bed.

Margot held up the wad of laundry in her hands. “Uh, packing?” Isn’t it obvious?

“You mean unpacking? We basically just got here.”

“I’m leaving,” Margot said.

“Like, to do another secret mission?”

Margot’s mouth opened slightly and then closed. She frowned, trying to decide on the right words. “I haven’t been doing secret missions.”

Suki closed her laptop and ditched her earbuds entirely. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a terrible liar? You and Chad have been disappearing left and right. I know a secret mission when I see one. Plus, after you two bailed and missed attendance at the dig site this afternoon, I told Dr. Hunt you’d started your period and Chad went to buy you another pair of shorts from the gift shop.”

“Thanks?” Margot said, uncertain whether fictitiously bleeding through her pants was something to be thankful for.

“So, what’s the truth?”

She’d quit a hundred things before. Robotics club, badminton, a brief stint where she wanted to join a race car pit crew. This was no different. So, why did the thought of leaving have such a bitter aftertaste? Unwilling to meet Suki’s curious eyes, Margot said, “I told you. I’m packing. To go back home.”

Suki shot straight up and bumped her head on the top bunk. Cradling what would definitely turn into a sore spot, she squawked, “No way. But we’ve got so much summer left.”

“You don't have to act surprised. It’s not like my mom’s a world-renowned museum curator like yours or I’m the descendant of a long line of archaeological prodigies like Astrid. Or one of the guys. I’m pretty sure Rex has a constant loop of TikToks in his head instead of a brain, but even he’s treated like he belongs here.”

“Margot, you heard Dr. Hunt. You totally earned your spot here. I read your essay, and it was amazing.” At that, Margot shot her a disbelieving look, but Suki bulldozed on. “I heard Lance Kiebler didn’t get in, and Lance’s aunt is, like, an Egyptologist who discovered a new tomb or something.”

Margot focused on stuffing her socks into a pink packing cube. “But Pasha Manikas—”

“Pasha, Pasha, Pasha,” Suki said with a groan. “Pasha’s family summers in Naples every year anyway because her dad’s a volcanologist. Who cares if she didn’t come?”

“Astrid,” Margot said with a stiff laugh, “who will be thrilled to learn I’ll be out of her hair soon.”

Suki rolled off the bed and landed next to Margot’s suitcase. Her bottom lip pouted. “You seriously can’t leave. You’re the only other person here who cares about more than a bunch of old stuff. And your stunt at La Galleria Bianchi landed me another date with Fernanda, so I’m not even jealous that you totally have a crush on Chad.”

“First of all,” Margot said, “I do not have a crush on Chad.”

Suki’s eyebrows raised. “Like I said. Terrible liar.”

Margot flopped dramatically onto her back, starfished across the floor. “Maybe Astrid was right. I’m just not cut out for this.”

Suki laughed, full bellied and bright. When she came up for air, she sobered immediately, realizing Margot hadn’t been laughing with her. “Oh,” she said, “you weren’t joking. Come on, Margot. Astrid’s like that with everyone. It’s not personal.”

“It sure seems personal.” All week she’d been on the receiving end of Astrid’s jabs, and her defenses were at an all-time low.

Methodically, Suki started unpacking everything Margot had packed. She grabbed the pair of pants Margot had just stuffed into her suitcase. “Okay, fine. You’re a little out of your element, but you’re not afraid to try anything. You do what you want. That’s badass.”

But it didn’t feel badass. It felt like being on a roller coaster she didn’t choose to board. Unbuckled. And there were loops. So, really, she just spent all her time trying to hold on, and now every part of her was tired and sore.

She wiggled the pair of jeans out from Suki’s grasp and dropped it back in the suitcase. “I’ve messed everything up. With Dr. Hunt, with my dad, with everyone.”

“Everyone?” Suki asked. “Or Chad?”

Margot gave a small, sad shrug. “What would Alison Bechdel say?”

Suki scooted closer. “I do know what Catherine Avery Hannigan would say.”

A mixture of emotions gurgled out of Margot. Two parts laugh, one part sob. She and Suki might have actually turned out to be good friends if she could have stayed the summer. “What would she say?”

“Chapter twenty-seven,” Suki said. “Isla and Reed are on the charter boat, just after escaping the Tunnels of Claudius. Do you remember what he said to her?”

It wasn’t uncommon for Margot to be brought to tears, but the first time she’d read chapter twenty-seven, she’d needed an hour to recover from emotional damages. She quoted, “My heart is yours, every beat and every breath between. There are no vestiges of me that have not been transformed by you.”

Even saying the words aloud brought moisture to Margot’s eyes. She blinked, leaning her head back like she might convince the tears not to fall.

“I think,” Margot said, composing herself, “that Chad and I are in more of a chapter twenty-nine situation.”

Suki gasped. “Not chapter twenty-nine.”

Margot tried to tell herself that running away was easier than staying, fighting, but the remnants of this afternoon’s anger had yellowed into an aching bruise. She felt carved open, like her heart had been torn out and left behind, bleeding dry.

Absentmindedly, her fingers trailed along her bracelet. Jade beads beneath her fingertips. She hadn’t taken it off. But it was too late, now.

The thought was a knife, the kind that might have carved her initials next to Van’s into the bark of the willow tree in her backyard. She’d wanted the Vase so badly that she never stopped to realize what was right in front of her.

“Yes,” Margot whispered. “He’s gone because I left him.”