Chapter 35
Thirty-Five
Lexi
I pace down the street and around a corner, away from Mark in the gelateria, unable to slow my racing heart. Mom said Dad thought raspberries were too seedy, so I took his word for it and never tried them, and I’ll absolutely deserve it if I hate this ice cream.
That should not have felt so intense. I shouldn’t have wanted what was happening.
All our playful enemy tension has shifted into another type, the way coal turns into diamond. Only a whole lot faster.
The type of tension that is very bad when he’s engaged.
I stop under a brick archway, breathing in the summer air. My hands shake, and I grip the wall.
What do I do? Skip our meeting tomorrow at Trevi Fountain and drop this whole bet business? Cut off all contact, including Mariella? That might be the smartest thing.
The thought sends me spiraling. I love Mark’s cousins and seeing their family interactions.
Besides, I followed the Gallos from the envelope picture, and it led me straight to Mark. I can’t turn my back on that if there’s substance to those coincidences.
I miss my mom. Her advice and wisdom.
In her Colosseum letter, she said to look for any misunderstandings.
I doubt there are any here, but Mark is loyal, I’ve seen that. Maybe this attraction has all been on my end, my wishful thinking, and I’ve misread his intentions. Maybe that look in his eyes wasn’t an echo of my hope for a kiss.
Okay, Mom.
Nerves on edge, I step out and around the corner to find Mark standing outside the gelateria with a chocolate double scoop and my risky raspberry.
Sincerity and gentleness. Start fresh when you need to. My mother’s words seem to whisper on the breeze.
He hands me my cone, dipping his head to look me in the eye.
“Hey. Sorry.” There’s no denying what almost happened, but the fact that I shot out of the store with no explanation makes this all the more uncomfortable.
“You were about to disappear on me. Did I do something wrong?”
Either he has no moral compass or I’m missing something here.
“I think we need to back up and start over.”
“From what point?”
“All the way.” I step closer and try a move from my dad’s handbook. “Hi. I’m Lexington, but you can call me Lexi.”
He takes a big bite of ice cream, watching me like I might be a rabid animal. “Nice to meet you. Do you ever go by Ington?”
I laugh, relieved to find the answering twinge of humor on his face, but his phone rings before we make it any further. I wait, but he doesn’t check who’s calling.
“Don’t you want to answer that?” I nibble at the raspberry, groaning at the deliciousness. It’s bright and just the right amount of sweet. But if it leaves me smiling with little black flecks in my teeth, we’re done. “It could be Katie. Is she still in Boston?”
“Yes.” He frowns. “How do you know about Katie?”
“I heard you on the phone with her at the reception.”
He nods but doesn’t add anything. Despite my prompts, he’s not opening up about his fiancée, and I need to understand.
“You mentioned the Theatre of Marcellus in your meeting a few minutes ago. It’s on my itinerary—I read it’s a great venue. It would be a cool place to be married.” I lick from my ice cream and make myself ask the question. “Do you think Katie would like it?”
He gives me an odd side-look. “She hasn’t been to Italy yet, and I don’t know when she will. She’s not going for an Italian wedding.”
His hesitation in the airport about whether he lives in Boston or here makes more sense now. He must visit the States often, and once they’re married, he’ll likely live there. For some reason, the idea that Rome is temporary for him depresses me. “When is the wedding?”
He rolls his eyes with an indulgent but rueful grin. “No idea. One never knows with Katie. She’s a bit of a disorganized procrastinator. Drives me crazy. It could be a month or six months. I’m just waiting for her to decide.” He tips his head and catches a drip from the bottom of his cone.
I’m organized and plan things.
Everything in me clenches at the impetuous, catty jealousy twisting in my stomach. That needs snuffing out, now.
I grasp for a lighthearted response and instead get Star Wars. “Difficult to see; the future is always in motion.”
Mark snorts and chokes on a bite of cone. “‘Always in motion, the future is.’ That’s the quote. Yoda always uses backwards grammar. What is it with you and Star Wars?”
“It was my dad’s thing.”
“Was?”
I nod. “He passed away when I was little. I watched the movies obsessively like any kid who wanted to know her father and had no way to do it besides soak up her mom’s stories about him and love what he loved.”
He searches my face for a moment, then points a trigger finger at me. “Okay, you can’t walk around misquoting the most epic space opera ever without consequence. Clearly you need to spend more time with me so I can correct you. When are you free?”
A tiny piece of me melts that he’s made my Star Wars knowledge a thing of importance, but I shove that piece back into my metaphorical freezer. No melting. No softening. “We already have a plan for tomorrow. You’re on my schedule for ten minutes at noon.”
“That’s not enough time to set up the post on social media and get the bet results.
You’ll have to move something around. It’ll take at least two hours.
Probably more like four.” He spreads helpless hands.
“Gotta give the people time to vote, so we might as well have fun while we wait. You would make three or four movie references I can correct in one afternoon. It’ll be productive. ”
“Won’t that bother Katie?”
“Are you kidding? I’m not going to tell her.” The horrified expression on his face would be comic if he wasn’t talking about his fiancée not finding out about him hanging out with me. “Talk about gasoline on a fire.”
I back away from him. “I’m not doing that with you, Mark. If it’s going to be a problem with Katie—”
“Oh, believe me, it isn’t a problem.” His expression still looks like the idea spooks him. “She’d be thrilled.”
I stare, mouth gaping, at Mark. “How is she okay with that?”
“Why would my sister—”
“Wait. Katie isn’t your fiancée?”
An amused whoop bursts from his mouth. “Where did you get that idea?”
“On the phone. I heard you talking about dates and ideas for the honeymoon. And you sounded so tender.”
“I was teasing her, Lexington.”
I’m struggling to get a full breath. “I need a minute to process this.”
He tosses the rest of his cone into the trash can near the gelateria door and takes one small step toward me. His voice rasps, “All this time, you thought I was engaged?” His stare is so intense, I think my hair is going to spontaneously catch fire.
All I can do is nod.
“I haven’t dated for years. Katie’s always pushing me to ask women out and fishing for any potential girlfriends.” He shoves his hands into his pockets and dips his chin. “Crowds and strangers don’t show me in the best light. I clam up and come off as rude.”
He’s . . . shy? I swallow and angle myself to see right into his irises, like that could help me reframe everything I’ve seen about Mark. A dark rim surrounds the deep blue of his eyes the same way his crusty exterior shields his deep capacity for affection.
I never in a million years would have guessed such an attractive guy, and as mischievous and funny as he is, could be socially hesitant. Single. “But when we met at the airport, you were—”
He glances away, flushing. “It’s different with you. It was always easy with you, from the first moment.”
Mom’s idea for a redo worked. And this time around, if my heart wants to race or melt or catch fire, I’m not holding it back.
I stretch out my hand. “I didn’t get your name.”
As we shake hands, he gives me that corner-of-the-mouth lift I’m starting to realize hides blindingly bright enjoyment. Which is fine, because I don’t think I could handle the whole blast right now. “It’s Mark.”
And still, like last time, he says his name without enthusiasm, but instead of annoyance, I now know it’s a verbal blush. His hand still in mine, though, warm and soft, tugs me toward him an inch.
My phone rings, and he lets go.
It’s Julie. If I answer her and she finds out Mark is standing right here, she’ll insist on meeting him. Now that I know he’s single, there’s no need for that.
Not that I don’t want her to meet Mark, eventually.
But this Whatchamacallit between Mark and me is brand new.
Bringing Julie into it will shine a spotlight on questions I don’t want to answer yet.
And, God love her, Julie changes the vibe of every situation she enters.
I’m not sure Mark and I are ready for any kind of shifting ground.
So I take a step back. “I have to go.” I turn to leave, but give him a saucy look over my shoulder. “See you tomorrow, Mark.”