Page 108 of The Roman Holiday Rule

We boarded nearly last, and before Mark can dig in his bag for my necklace, the flight attendant is already checking that our bags are safely stowed under the seats, aisles and feet space clear of luggage. Mark settles his hand on my bouncing knee. “It’s there. Don’t stress about it. I’ll get it as soon as we’re allowed.”

We take off, and Mark distracts me with light conversation. “Tell me again what Luca said.”

I win the prying award in Mark’s family for finally unearthing Luca’s reasons for leaving architecture and opening his restaurant. “At first he kept joking that there weren’t enough knives, but he eventually admitted architecture was never his passion. He had to give it a try because it was the family business, but he was miserable. It was too predictable. New restaurants are hard to keep afloat, and I think he loves that do-or-die kind of pressure.”

“Why couldn’t he have just told us that?”

“That he hated the work everyone else loves? It’s a bit rude to tell you he thinks your lives are boring.” One thing I know about Luca—he doesn’t confront if he can avoid it.

The seat-belt sign dings off, and Mark reaches for his bag. He unzips it, digs to the bottom, and pulls out my necklace. “Here, lean forward, and I’ll put it on you.”

I lift my hair off the back of my neck and feel the thin, cold metal chain, the brush of Mark’s fingers as he closes the clasp. I drop my hair and smile up at him. “Thanks. You saved my lira twice now.”

Instead of smiling, he presses his lips together. “I love you, Lexington.”

“I know,” I say, a sly smile breaking across my face. TheStar Warsquote slipped out before I could stop it.

He laughs so hard he has to drop his head into his hands.

Out of habit, I run my hand down the chain, feeling for the coin. My fingers reach the lira, but there’s something else with it, hanging from the chain. I look down, heart beating wildly. Did he grab the wrong necklace? Thishasto be mine. I can’t lose Mom’s lira a second time.

Mark’s eyes are trained on me, following every movement, that mischievous look on his face I can never get enough of.

The familiar coin is there, but nestled against it is a sparkling diamond ring. I gasp, then feel Mark’s hand reaching for mine. He’s proposing on the plane between our worlds.

He leans close, looking into my eyes, all playfulness gone. This is the focused Mark who takes my breath away, who sees deep into my soul, who makes everything else dim into nothingness. “Lexington Walker, you are my present and my future. There’s nowhere in this world I want to be except by your side. You are my dream, my goal, and my home.” His voice is rough and low, and I’ve never heard him so earnest and vulnerable. “Will you marry me, Lexington?”

My eyes are blurry with tears, but my smile is so wide it hurts my cheeks. “Yes, a thousand times yes. With fifty-point Impact font.”

I take the ring off the necklace and Mark slides it onto my fourth finger. Perfect fit.

He kisses my newly adorned hand. “I can’t believe you interrupted my proposal with a movie quote.”

“I can’t believe you stole my necklace and proposed on the plane.” But I can believe it. It’s so us.

I rest my head against Mark’s shoulder with a sigh of contentment at the crazy twist my life has taken, all because of my mother’s love.

Plans versus love?

My bet is on love. Every time.

Sixty-One

Mark

I still believetheRoman Holidayrule holds true.

You can’t fall in love with someone who lives somewhere else and expecta happily-ever-after.

Except where there’s a rule, there’s a loophole.

Happily ever after to Lexington Russo and me.