When in Rome...Break His Heart

  WHEN IN ROME…

  Break His Heart

  Lena Mae Hill

  Copyright © 2016 Lena Mae Hill

  First Edition

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the express written permission of the publisher, except in cases of reviewer quoting brief passages in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are used factiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, and events are entirely coincidental. Use of any copyrighted, trademarked, or brand names in this work of fiction does not imply endorsement of that brand.

  Published in the United States by Lena Mae Hill and Speak Now.

  www.lenamaehill.com

  This edition ISBN-10: 1-945780-06-1

  ISBN-13: 978-1-945780-06-6

  Chapter One

  Weston was going to propose. Maggie knew it from the moment he said that he was taking her out to eat but failed to ask where she wanted to go. In the seven years they’d been dating, he’d always let her pick the restaurant. After all, he wanted to make her happy, and if he wanted to go somewhere she didn’t like, he’d go with his friends.

  As the familiar streets of Fayetteville blurred past the window of his SUV, Maggie picked at the split ends on her long brown hair, which she’d been growing out since high school so it would be long for the wedding. In her mind, she turned over whether or not she would bring her forthcoming engagement ring to Rome when she left the next day for her six-week study abroad trip. She’d read that traveling with expensive jewelry was a big no-no. But she’d want to stare at the ring for the entire six weeks while she relived perfect Weston’s perfect proposal. This was the perfect night for a proposal, too—starry and warm but not yet suffocating, as summer nights in Arkansas could be.

  Weston swung his Toyota Highlander—Number 1 in Midsized SUVs according to U.S. News and World Report, he’d informed her when he bought it—into the familiar parking lot of Logan’s Roadhouse. A flicker of irritation shot through Maggie. For a proposal, she’d expected something a little more…dazzling. If not local and romantic, at least something expensive like Ruth’s Chris. But then she reminded herself that Weston knew she didn’t approve of expensive restaurants any more than he did impractical romantic gestures.

  “Your favorite,” Weston said, leaning across the console to give her a quick kiss. She returned it with more thought than usual. How long had he been doing that every time they went somewhere together? When was the last time she’d actually noticed it?

  They climbed out of the car and met behind it, where he took her hand, as he’d been doing for all these years. Their habits were so ingrained she didn’t think about them. But now she had to remember every detail, so she could tell her self-righteous sisters later. In the seven years that she’d been dating Weston, they’d both met, dated, and married their husbands. One of them had two kids. And Maggie still didn’t have a ring.

  Until tonight, she reminded herself.

  Weston opened the door for Maggie, his hand lingering on her lower back as she entered the restaurant. Then, because he was Weston, he held the door for a family coming in behind them. He and Maggie followed the hostess to a table, where Weston pulled out her chair. He sat across from her, because she liked to look at him while they talked, though her friend Kristina told her that on dates, they were supposed to sit beside each other. Maggie had laughed—she and Weston had been well beyond silly dating rules when she met Kristina freshman year.

  “Are you excited?” Weston asked, cracking a peanut from the tin bucket in the center of the table while he looked at the menu.

  “Yes,” Maggie said, pushing her glasses up and leaning over to snag a handful of peanuts. “Or, I mean, about what?”

  Weston glanced up with a little frown. “Your trip, of course.”

  “Oh, that,” she said. “Yep. Super excited.”

  “You know what you want?”

  Maggie tossed her peanut shells on the floor, as it was that kind of restaurant, and dusted her hands before opening the menu. She had to fight the urge to reach across the table and shake him. He knew she didn’t like waiting. Or surprises. Or not having enough time to plan. It wasn’t like planning a birthday party. It was their wedding, the only one either of them would ever have.

  But she’d been waiting for three years, since they graduated high school. She could wait until after they ordered.

  Or, it turned out, after they got their food. She didn’t think he’d hide it in her baked potato, but she dug through it extra carefully. She didn’t want to have a mismatched front tooth in her wedding photos. But Weston did not put a ring in her food, which was good, because she might have questioned if he was marriage material if he had.

  You’re being a biotch, she told herself. Of course she’d marry Weston if he put a ring in her food, even if it broke her front tooth off at the roots. She’d marry Weston if he put the ring in her drink and she choked on it and had to go to the emergency room. After all, it would be a great story later.

  And come on, it was Weston. Her friends constantly teased her about how perfect he was, about how perfect they were together. But in their teasing, she always caught a malicious glimmer of jealousy. And a malicious little part of her enjoyed it.

  In truth, Weston wasn’t perfect, despite appearances. He wasn’t movie-star sexy, but he was a good match for her petite frame and half-Chinese dark eyes and hair. By contrast, Weston was tall, with hazel-blue eyes and blonde hair he kept parted on one side. Kristina said he looked like an old picture of her grandfather when he’d been their age. Having known him so long, Maggie hardly noticed the way he looked. They’d been together long beyond the delusions that the other was perfect. But he was perfect for her—smart, driven, kind, well-mannered, and predictable.

  Well, except for this one thing. In high school, they’d agreed that they didn’t want to get married until after college. But she needed at least two years to plan, and here they were, a year away from graduating and not a ring in sight. As soon as he proposed, she was going to tell him exactly what she thought of having to rush her wedding planning.

  When the waitress cleared their plates, Weston reached across the table and took her hand.

  Oh my God. This is it.

  “Did you get enough to eat?” he asked. “Do you want dessert?”

  “I’m okay.” Then she realized he might have done something cheesy like put the ring on the dessert plate. “Or we can split something, if you want,” she added.

  “I’m stuffed,” he said, patting his trim abs. “I’ll just get the check.” After he signaled to their waitress, he took her hand again. “I’m going to miss you.”

  “I’ll miss you, too,” she said, barely able to contain her smile. She was actually trembling. She couldn’t remember the last time Weston had made her nervous—the first time they’d talked, at a middle school dance? Or when he’d asked her out, and they’d been too young to have drivers’ licenses, so his dad had taken them on their first “date”?

  “It’s not the longest we’ve been apart,” he said, squeezing her hand. “There was that year we both worked at summer camp.”

  “But we saw each other every two weeks,” she reminded him. One of those weekends, they’d only been able to sneak in a few minutes, but that had recharged her excitement to see him the next time.

  “I love you, Maggie May.”

  “I love you, too,” she said, pushing up her glasses again. Her nose was sweating. Where was the ring?
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  She wanted to scream at the waitress for interrupting just then, but instead, she sat without speaking while Weston thanked her. He pulled out two twenties and laid them on the black plastic receipt holder, took his own receipt and wrote down the total so she could add it to their Joint Expenses Spreadsheet back home. Then he handed her the receipt and stood. “Ready?”

  Yes, she was ready. She’d been ready when they left high school, though she’d wanted to wait until they finished college as much as he did. They’d talked about a long engagement a few times already, they’d been dating for years, and she couldn’t imagine her life with anyone else. Three years later, she was starting to wonder if he could. Maybe he wasn’t so sure. Maybe perfect Weston didn’t think she was perfect Maggie. What else could he be waiting for?

  Maggie didn’t look at him as they left the restaurant or take his hand as they crossed the parking lot. She pretended she didn’t see him reaching for hers, and instead, she busied herself digging through her purse for Carmex.

  “Want to go anywhere else?” Weston asked, opening her door and waiting for her to climb in before closing it behind her.

  When he got in the driver’s seat, she said, “I should probably get some sleep. I have to get up early.”

  “You okay?” Weston asked, fastening his seatbelt and checking his mirrors before starting the car, as if someone else might have adjusted them while they ate dinner.

  “I’m fine,” Maggie said, turning away. She knew she was being too critical. All the habits and qualities that would make him the perfect husband and father, all the things she’d always wanted in a guy since she was five years old and playing house with her Barbie and Ken dolls, now irritated her. She wanted him to get upset sometimes, to cry, maybe even to yell once or twice a year. She wasn’t sure when his perfection had started to bother her. In truth, she never did anything she wasn’t supposed to, either.

  So they went back to her apartment, which she’d moved into because her parents said everyone should live alone at some point in their lives. Weston stayed over, as he had twice a week for the past year. They climbed into bed with Maggie’s two cats and watched The Late Show, which doubled as news and comedy, because Maggie had read somewhere that laughing before going to bed made people happier in life.

  When they switched off the TV, Weston reached for Maggie right away. She wasn’t feeling warm and fuzzy towards him after the dinner disappointment, but she wouldn’t see him for six whole weeks, which meant no sex for six whole weeks. So she tried to get herself in the mood, and after exactly six minutes of Weston’s tried-and-true moves, she had exactly one orgasm and told him to finish so they could go to sleep.

  Afterwards, Weston wrapped his body around hers and fell asleep immediately, like usual, but Maggie couldn’t fall asleep. She lay under his sweaty arm—excessive perspiration being one of his flaws—with her eyes wide open, thinking about all the things she had to do in the morning before leaving. And thinking about how six weeks apart might be just what they needed. She could use the absence to work out her ungratefulness and remember all the reasons she appreciated Weston, and he could use it as a wakeup call to see what his life would be like without her. She refused to consider the possibility that he’d enjoy it.

  Chapter Two

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” Weston asked the next day as they stopped at the bottom of the airport escalator.

  Maggie wedged her boarding passes and driver’s license inside her passport and slid it into her purse. “I’m fine,” she said. “Just travel stress.”

  “I almost forgot,” Weston said. “I have something for you.” He slipped a jewelry box from his pocket and held it out to her.

  Maggie almost choked. This was it. This was definitely it.

  She bit her lip to keep from laughing like a mad woman or screaming with excitement. Carefully, with shaking fingers, she slid the lid off the purple box.

  Inside, a delicate silver chain with an oval locket stared up at her. She stared back at it. Of course it wasn’t a ring. It wasn’t even a ring box. It was a flat box the size and shape of a deck of cards. Why hadn’t she absorbed that before she opened it to find such a rude surprise?

  “It has our picture in it,” Weston said. “I know you have your phone, but…” He shrugged. “That’s different.”

  It wasn’t a ring, but it was more romantic than anything he’d ever done. Maggie had long ago accepted that he was romantically challenged—another of his flaws—and decided that she could live with that. But when he did manage a bit of romance, it was so exactly perfect that it took her breath away.

  Before she knew it, tears were spilling from her eyes. Weston pulled her to his chest and wrapped his arms around her. “Don’t cry, Maggie May,” he said. “Now you’ll never be alone.”

  She sniffled and wiped her tears. “I know,” she said. “I love you. I better go, though.” Weston leaned down and planted one last kiss on her lips, and she turned and stepped onto the escalator.

  When she reached her gate, she scanned for the others in her study abroad group. She wanted to tell Kristina about the false alarm, but she wasn’t there yet, so Maggie checked in with Professor McClain, who was flying with most of the group, though a few had gotten different flights.

  Cynthia and her friend Nick showed up after a bit, and Maggie showed Cynthia the necklace. Cynthia’s mom had given her a globe necklace for the trip, but it was the kind of fashion jewelry that Maggie would never wear. Weston knew as much. He’d only bought her jewelry twice now, but both times, it had come from a jeweler. Cynthia raved about how romantic and expensive looking Maggie’s locket was.

  “See, that’s what I want,” she said. “A guy who will sweep me off my feet.”

  “Weston’s not really a feet-sweeper,” Maggie said, tucking the locket into her t-shirt. “But I guess I’ll keep him.” That feeling of vindication that she sometimes got when other girls swooned about Weston filled her, and she sat back with a sigh. She didn’t know Cynthia quite well enough to shatter the other girl’s illusions by complaining about her guy problems.

  Kristina was running late, as usual, so Maggie didn’t get to talk to her before they boarded the plane. Then she found out she was sitting with Cynthia for the first leg of the trip, and by the time they switched planes in Atlanta and took off over the ocean, the sting of last night’s letdown was gone. She already missed Weston, and the necklace he’d given her had made up for it.

  Still, she told Kristina everything, like always. They had met during rush week freshman year, and though they didn’t have much in common besides their major, they’d been friends since. Their differences had seemed secondary to the fact that they just liked each other. They gave each other relationship advice, never assuming that one knew better, since they each had strong points. Maggie knew more about long-term relationships, but she didn’t know much about dating. Weston had been her first crush, her first love, her first kiss, her first lover. Her first and only everything.

  “Oh, it’s so pretty,” Kristina said, snapping the locket closed and letting it settle back on Maggie’s chest.

  “Isn’t it?” Maggie said, lifting it to examine again.

  “It seems a little like a consolation prize, though, doesn’t it?”

  Maggie hadn’t thought of it that way. It certainly had taken her mind off the disappointment of still being “single” by society’s standards, though. Lately, every time she had to mark that box on an application, it filled her with anxiety. She and Weston had talked about marriage openly and often until the last year. Now it had become an awkward topic, something she avoided, not wanting to seem desperate. If she pretended she wasn’t worried about it, he’d do it on his own time—or so everyone told her.

  She’d seen no evidence so far.

  “Maybe he’s one of those guys who never proposes,” Kristina said after a brief silence. “Like that guy in the magazine you showed me at Christmas.”

  “You mean that time you told
me I had nothing to worry about?” Maggie knew exactly the article Kristina was talking about. It had been about girls who stayed with guys for years, sometimes even longer than she’d stayed with Weston, only to be dumped when they pressed for a proposal. It had been one of the things that convinced Maggie to stop mentioning marriage to Weston.

  Kristina shrugged. “You could always tell him you want to see other people while you’re gone. Even if you get married, this could be your last chance to have a little fun. I mean, you’ve only been with one guy. Ever.”

  “I could never do that,” Maggie said. “What if he was okay with it? I’d die.”

  “Of course he’d be okay with it,” Kristina said. “He’s a guy. He doesn’t want to be celibate for six weeks.”

  “You’re just jaded because you and Alex got in a fight.”

  Kristina laughed and admitted that might be true. She’d filled Maggie in on her own pre-trip drama, and Maggie knew Kristina wasn’t going to have anything nice to say about guys right then, even Weston, whom she loved. Everyone loved Weston. It was part of why Maggie loved Weston.

  “Anyway, I don’t want to be with anyone else,” Maggie said. “Just the thought of it is weird.” She and Weston may not have been the crazy adventurous sorts, but she could always count on him to satisfy her within minutes and afterwards offer either cuddling or conversation, depending on her mood. He was all she knew and all she needed.

  “That’s because you’ve never done it,” Kristina said.

  “She’s right,” Cynthia said, turning around in her seat. “Variety is the spice of life. I, for one, intend to hook up with at least one hot Italian guy while we’re there.”

  “Exactly,” Kristina said, giving Cynthia a fist-bump between the seats. “That will take my mind of Alex like nothing else. You know what they say about getting over one guy by getting under another.”

  “You can go ahead,” Maggie said. “I’m already worrying about keeping the guy I have. I don’t need to find another one. And I’m fairly certain that if you had a guy like Weston, neither of you would be thinking about anyone else.”