When in Rome...Break His Heart Read online

  She shook her head vehemently. Thanks for betraying me, mindless hormone-driven body. But I’m not falling for any of your primal urges, because I have a brain.

  Further down the railing, Rory shrieked as Ned lifted her off her feet and set her on the railing. Though she clutched at it as if terrified she might fall in—it was only a few feet above the shallow water—she was laughing so hard she couldn’t speak, her face and neck bright red. The joy radiating from her made Maggie’s heart catch. And the way Ned was looking at her, like he’d found the diamond from Titanic, though she wasn’t what anyone would call conventionally pretty. Did Weston look at Maggie that way? Had he ever?

  Ned took Rory’s camera and held it up, a silly grin on his face, and snapped a picture.

  “Wait, let me check the settings,” Rory said, reaching out with one hand while still clutching the railing with the other.

  “You don’t need to check the settings,” Ned said, snapping away.

  Rory looked embarrassed, pulling a strand of hair away from her mouth and looking down. Kristina had called her a dog, and Maggie could see cellulite on the outside of her thigh where her shorts had ridden up. But there was something adorably vulnerable about her. People often called Maggie shy, but she didn’t think she ever looked like Rory—her shyness brimming with hope, as if at any moment she could be irreversibly shattered or overcome by rapturous happiness.

  “You like her?” Enzo asked, slinking up to Maggie’s side. “You stare at her a lot.”

  “What part of leave me alone don’t you understand?” Maggie slipped away from him and joined Ned. “Want me to take a picture of you two together?” She accepted the camera and snapped a few shots. Rory’s camera was a real camera, set perfectly to capture the people while getting enough of the brightly lit fountain behind them to recognize it.

  “Here, I’ll take one of you, too,” Rory said. “I’ll send it to you when I upload it to my laptop.”

  Soon, Kristina pranced down and tossed an arm around Maggie’s shoulders, her hair blowing into Maggie’s face, and wanted more pictures, and then everyone joined in to take different shots with different people. Rory didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she was great at directing shots and getting people to move into the best lighting or getting a different angle. And though she was a hundred percent confident behind the camera—it was hard to believe she was even the same person as the bumbling germ-phobic girl from their first day—Maggie was fascinated by the Rory she’d glimpsed in front of the camera.

  She saw herself in the businesslike Rory, but she didn’t think she had that other side, the softer side. It intrigued her that someone could have different sides and change from one to another so quickly. Maggie had one side. What you saw was what you got.

  But what if Enzo saw something she didn’t? What if he knew something about her that even she didn’t know?

  Don’t be silly. You know who you are. You really think this lecherous jerk knows anything about you that you don’t already know?

  Of course she didn’t. If anyone would see something in her that she couldn’t see, it would be Weston. He knew her better than anyone. He knew her family, her history, her plans and ambitions. Her past and future. But what about the Maggie right now, in the present?

  Chapter Eight

  After the pictures, they hung around a while longer, then made their way back along the cobbled street. Maggie spotted a statue of Romulus and Remus, the famed founders of Rome, nursing on a she-wolf. Legend had it that the brothers had been raised by a wolf before founding the city, and there were statues depicting the boys crouching under the wolf all over the city.

  Maggie avoided Enzo by walking with Rory and talking about photography. In truth, Maggie posted on Instagram a lot, but she wasn’t really a photographer. Still, she liked taking pictures. “So how’d you two meet?” she asked at last, when the photo conversation had run dry.

  “Us? Oh, no, we’re not…” Rory laughed, redness sweeping across her face.

  “We live together,” Ned said, nudging Rory.

  “We don’t live together,” she said. “I mean, we do, but…”

  Ned laughed and slid an arm around Rory. “We’re roommates.”

  “Oh,” Maggie said. “Wow. I didn’t know that was allowed.”

  “We’re not roommates,” Rory said. “We have the same host mom, that’s all. We don’t share a room.”

  “So you just met?” Maggie asked. “I thought you’d been going out a while, and Ned had come over here before you or something. It’s just that, well, you seem so comfortable together.”

  “We are,” Ned said. “I feel like I’ve always known her.”

  Rory gave a nervous little laugh. “Anyone know where we’re going now?”

  “I’m just following Kristina,” Maggie said. “But if it starts to look like a sketchy part of town or they ask us to their apartment, I’ll split with you. Don’t worry, I have a good sense about these things.”

  “Translation? She’s uber-paranoid,” Kristina said, laughing over her shoulder at them.

  “That’s true, but for good reason,” Maggie said. “And it’s better to be paranoid than end up on a billboard for missing persons.”

  “Or that sad bulletin board just inside the grocery store, with the missing persons posters plastered all over it,” Rory said. “Those always make me so depressed.”

  They turned out into a plaza with a fountain. In Rome, fountains were more popular than statues of boys nursing on wolves. Beyond the fountain, they could see the three flights of stairs. “Oh my God,” Maggie said, racing ahead, ignoring Kristina’s confused questions about what she was looking at. Maggie had done her homework, and she knew about every tourist attraction, historic site, and point of interest in Rome, the famous Spanish Steps included.

  They hung out for a while, going up to the top of the Steps and back down, taking pictures and drinking wine someone had bought on the way. But everyone was coupled up, so Maggie had to deal with Enzo. She could either butt in on one of the couples once again, or just talk to the creep. So when he approached, she sighed but did not protest when he sat beside her.

  “Are you going to give me your number?” he asked.

  “Um, that would be a no.”

  “You don’t want me to call?”

  “Again, no.”

  “That is so cruel.”

  “I’ve told you again and again, I have a boyfriend,” she said. “If you want to hang out as friends, we can hang out as friends. Otherwise, I don’t know what to tell you.”

  “Friends call each other,” he said. “Doesn’t Kristina have your number?”

  “That’s different,” she said. “Kristina doesn’t say gross stuff all the time.”

  “What if I promise to be on my best behavior?”

  “That would be nice,” she said. “But I’m still not giving you my number.”

  “Okay,” he said. “But you must tell me what is this ‘gross stuff’ I have said to you?”

  Maggie ran her hands over her knees and bit her lip. “You know what.”

  “You’re sexy when you blush.”

  “That,” she said. “That right there.”

  “Calling you sexy is a gross thing? How can that be?”

  “Because you’re just…I don’t even know what. I’m not, okay? You’re just trying to get me in trouble.”

  Enzo covered his heart. “I am wounded that you would say that. And you, my sexy girl, are definitely sexy.”

  Below them, Kristina and Armani were playing at the fountain. He splashed water towards her, and she screamed and put up both hands and one knee as if to block it. Her tiny little skirt blew up, and for a second, everyone on the Spanish Steps could see her underwear. She probably didn’t even care.

  “Why don’t you wear that?” Enzo asked. “Show off a little more. Then you’ll feel more sexy.”

  “If I dress like a hooker I’ll feel sexy?” Maggie laughed. “You so don’t know me at all.�
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  “I know you will feel sexy if you wear that skirt.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “I’ll make you a deal,” he said. “I’ll buy you one like it, you wear it, and then you tell me. If I’m wrong, I never call you sexy again. If I’m right, you give me a kiss.”

  “First of all, I’d never wear that even if it did make me feel sexy, because it would make me look skanky. And second, stop trying to buy me things. It’s weird.”

  “You care more how you look than how you feel?”

  “Yep,” she said. “What can I say? I’m a shallow American girl.”

  Enzo grinned. “As long as you’re all the other things I’ve heard about American girls as well.”

  “I’m not,” she said. “Just shallow. And mean. Still want to be friends?”

  “I do,” he said. “I have a feeling you’re a crab girl. You might be tough and mean outside, but inside, you’re sweet and juicy.”

  “Oh my God.” Her face flamed again, but he was so ridiculous that she had to laugh, too. “You just don’t know when to stop, do you?”

  “Not until you’ve been naked in my bed for one whole night, and we have made all the love in the world, and you just can’t take one more minute.”

  “Oh, so now it’s making love? I thought before you said you wanted to…you know.” She ran her thumbnail down the seam of her jeans, refusing to look at him while he laughed.

  “You can’t even say the word,” he said. “And you want to pretend you’re a bad girl?”

  “I never said I was bad,” she said. “Who wants to be bad?”

  “With you, I want to be bad.” He leaned in and bit her ear.

  “Ouch,” she said, pulling away and cupping her hand over her ear. “What was that for?”

  He grinned and leaned close again, but she leaned away this time. “For being bad,” he said. “Don’t you want to do it back to me now?”

  “No, I’d rather hit you,” she said. “And if you don’t stop, I will.”

  “You’ll hit me?”

  “If you keep making me want to,” she said. “Don’t say you haven’t been warned.”

  “Do you always hit people who don’t give you what you want?”

  “I don’t think it’s too much to ask for you to be a decent human being. It’s not like I’m asking you to be a gentleman. That is obviously out of the question.”

  Enzo leaned back on the steps and rested his elbows on the one behind him. “Now I see why your boyfriend lets you go to Rome by yourself.”

  “You mean, because he can trust me to resist guys like you? Yeah, not that hard. Sorry to break it to you.”

  “Well, then,” he said, standing. “I’ll just go and not bother you anymore. Have a nice time with your boyfriend.” He walked away, leaving Maggie shaking her head. She wasn’t sure what had just happened. Yeah, she’d been meaner than usual, but only because he wouldn’t stop pushing, pushing, pushing. She’d kind of been having fun with it. Not that she wanted him to hit on her. Of course she didn’t want that—she had Weston, after all.

  But it had been flattering to be wanted so much, even if she didn’t like the guy or even find him attractive. And she’d had someone to talk to. Now she was alone on the steps.

  If anyone should have gotten mad and stormed off, it was her. Enzo was completely inappropriate ninety percent of the time. He’d offended her first. So why did he get to walk away and leave her feeling like the jerk? And more importantly, why did she feel like a jerk? She hadn’t done anything wrong. All she’d done was tell him she had a boyfriend, and hammer it into his thick skull when he wouldn’t take her seriously.

  Maybe she had been a jerk. But she shouldn’t have to worry about whether he thought so or not. It was good that he’d walked away. He should have left her alone hours ago. So, she’d finally managed to chase him off, and she could go back to having fun with her friends, sightseeing, and calling Weston every few days. That was what she wanted, anyway. If she never saw Enzo again, so be it. She’d be better off.

  Chapter Nine

  On Friday afternoon, Maggie called Weston. It was still early in Arkansas, but he might be up already. He worked as a caddy at the country club, and when he had the morning shift, he had to be there super early for the morning golfers. Maggie thought he was working that day, and he wasn’t supposed to be standing around on his phone, but he might have a minute to talk between groups. She really needed to hear his voice after spending the last evening fending off Enzo.

  “Hey, sweetheart,” Weston said, his voice groggy.

  “Did I wake you?” she asked. “I’m so sorry. I thought you had to work early.”

  “No, I’m working this afternoon.”

  “Oh.” Maggie’s throat tightened. She had been determined to keep up with his schedule, to stay connected, to not let the trip make her into an absentee girlfriend. After all, if she was going to be the best girlfriend in the world, one perfect enough to warrant an engagement ring from the perfect Weston, she had to care about what he cared about. Which she did. It was just that, at home, she always knew his schedule because it directly related to her and when they could see each other. Just like he knew hers. Was she really that selfish? One week away, and already she didn’t know when he was working.

  “What’s up?” Weston asked.

  “I can call back later,” she said. “When you’re up.”

  “It’s okay, I was already halfway awake.” He yawned into the phone. “I’m about to make some coffee.”

  “I wish I was there.” Her heart was aching. She clutched her locket in her fist and closed her eyes.

  “Me, too,” Weston said, sounding distracted. She could hear him padding around his apartment now. It was hard to imagine the early morning sun streaming in his windows when it was afternoon here and Kristina was putting on fresh makeup with in front of the oval mirror at the cute, antique vanity in their room.

  “What are you up to?” Weston asked. “How’d your tour of the city go?”

  “We went out to see the Trevi Fountain and the Spanish Steps. They were amazing, Weston. You would love it here.” She started describing them, but she didn’t know how to say everything she wanted to, to put into words the thoughts and feelings piling up in her mind. If she described the Spanish Steps, they would sound like…a set of steps. She couldn’t describe to him the way they felt, so huge and ancient that she felt small and alone, how each flight actually did make her feel closer to heaven, as the creators intended. Or how the Trevi Fountain gave her chills that had nothing to do with Enzo, but now she couldn’t separate the two, because he was part of that experience. The words coming out of her mouth sounded flat and dull. She wasn’t even listening to herself talk.

  “That sounds cool,” Weston said.

  Cool. It had been so much more than cool. But if she couldn’t describe it and she’d been there, how could he understand when he hadn’t?

  “It was,” she said dully.

  “I’m glad you’re having fun,” Weston said. “How’s Kris?”

  Maggie sighed and watched Kristina put in her hoop earrings. She was already getting ready for a date that wouldn’t start for hours. “Same old Kris. She’s seeing a guy here. That guy I told you about, with the friends.”

  “That was fast,” Weston said.

  “Yeah.”

  “Tell her I said hi. And to tell you not to worry too much.”

  “I’m not.”

  He laughed. “Good. I was worried about you worrying.”

  “I’ve been hanging out with the group,” she said. “I’m not going out alone at night or anything.”

  “Of course not,” Weston said. “That wouldn’t be safe.”

  “Which is why I’d never do it.”

  “I know,” Weston said. “That’s good. Well hey, my coffee’s done. Thanks for calling, sweetheart. I’m glad you’re both having a good time.”

  “Okay,” she said. “Sorry I woke you. Um, I guess bye? I lo
ve you.”

  “Love you, too,” he said. “Bye.”

  Maggie lay back on the bed, holding the phone in one hand and the locket in the other. She didn’t know why she felt so empty and frustrated. They had a million conversations like that all the time. Just calling to say what’s up, and talk about her day, and not having much else to say. But she was in Rome, for God’s sake. And she couldn’t even make that sound exciting.

  “Am I boring?” she asked Kristina, who was standing in front of the open closet door, rifling through her clothes.

  Kristina held up a shirt in front of herself and studied it in the mirror before answering. “That conversation was definitely flat-lining,” she said. “Maybe you should do something to spice it up.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know, phone sex?”

  “I couldn’t do that.”

  Kristina laughed and tossed the shirt onto her twin bed. “Yeah, I can’t imagine you doing that. But hey, if you want to try it, just let me know, and I’ll leave you two alone next time.”

  “That’s okay,” Maggie said. “Thanks.” She curled up on her bed and watched Kristina taking out every piece of clothing she owned, one by one, and tossing it on the bed after some deliberation. Maggie couldn’t even bring herself to tease Kristina about her indecisiveness right then. All she could think about was Weston, padding around his bright apartment in his boxer briefs, drinking his coffee and not noticing the decorations she’d helped him pick out.

  Maybe he was feeling as far away as she was, missing her as much as she missed him. But probably not. Weston was the type of guy who would tell her if he had a problem. He wouldn’t understand not being able to say something that he wanted to say. He probably hadn’t even noticed that anything was wrong.

  That night, Kristina went out with Armani. She invited Maggie, but Maggie wasn’t up to dealing with Enzo, and if Kristina brought her friends, Armani would probably bring his. So Maggie stayed behind and planned a trip to see the Ponte Milvio, also known as the Love Locks Bridge, with Rory. They both wanted to see it, but neither wanted to go alone at night. At the last minute, Cynthia and Nick joined, which made Maggie feel better. She didn’t like walking alone at night with just another girl.