Page 102 of The Roman Holiday Rule

“I’ve moved on, I’m letting go. I’ll prove it.” I pull out my phone to text Gia, dictating my words as I type and pace around the office. “Gia, I’m so flattered by the offer, and it sounds like a dream, but I’m sorry to tell you that I’m not able to take this job at this time. I—”

Julie throws her arms straight out, dramatic. “Wait. She gave you several weeks to make the decision. Take the time.”

My fingers hover over the keys. “Why wait?”

“You’ve been living on autopilot for the last two weeks, and I just wonder if you’ll regret that decision once you allow yourself to feel.”

I’ve told her my reasons, but she turns a deaf ear to them everytime. “Julie, you’re the one who told me that I’ve been too focused on the Italy trip, consumed by all things Rome. I finally have closure with my mom’s envelopes and painting. I’m going to frame her envelope art, hang them in that empty spot above my bed, and move on with life after Italy.”

I have one of the envelopes in my purse to find the right size frames during my lunch break, if I can talk Julie into taking the Kathryn-Noah wedding. I don’t feel up to looking at wedding venues and watching an engaged couple’s sweet excitement.

“But...”

I give her my bestdon’t-say-itglare, then smile sweetly. “Want a wedding client?”

She backs up a step, hands in the air. “No. Nice try. Have fun with that.”

A slow grin widens across my face. “I’ll wait to answer Gia if you take this client off my hands.”

Julie freezes and thinks. “Deal.”

I smirk and shake hands with her. “Nice doing business with you. You’re meeting them at noon to check out a venue.”

“Nope. Already have a business lunch. I’ll take over the client after today.”

I sigh. So close. One last meeting is better than the whole wedding, though. I slide into my desk chair, setting my phone on the desk.

Julie sits too. “Delete that half-written message to Gia before you accidentally send it. That’s part of the agreement.”

“I love how since we’ve shaken hands on this deal less than two minutes ago, you’ve changed the termstwice.”

She doesn’t even look up from her computer as her fingers fly across the keys. “Always read the fine print, Lexi.”

I sigh and get to work. At 11:30, as we’re both preparing to leave for our meetings, Julie powers down her computer and says, “Where did you say you’re headed? Are we going in the same direction?”

“Boston Common. The fountain at noon.” Hand on my umbrella,I freeze as soon as the words are out of my mouth. That’s a little familiar. Too similar to Trevi Fountain at noon, my bet appointment with Mark.

“What’s wrong?” Julie pauses at the door.

I have to stop seeing Mark in everything.Stop. “Nothing.”

“Okay. See you later.”

I lock up behind me and trek north. I’m crossing the bridge over the pond, double checking the location on my phone, when I see that Ninth King of Rome has written me back. Finally.

I made contact. Told him you and I had questions.

That’s all he writes. This guy is going to kill me with suspense. I tuck the umbrella under my arm and type,

You’re going to make me drag every scrap of information from you, begging and pleading, aren’t you?

He writes back immediately.

Oh how the tides have turned.

I chuckle and stop at Charles Street between the two parks, waiting for the green light at the crosswalk.Who is this guy? I scroll through the photos on his feed again. There are a few new ones since I’ve last checked.

The dots appear, disappear, and then: