Chapter 59
Fifty-Nine
Lexi
I feel bad that we’ve left Katie and Nonno waiting in suspense for almost an hour, but Mark won’t be rushed. He takes the long route back to the fountain, swinging my hand as he walks. “I told them I would be a while.”
“You were that confident I’d agree to—”
“I wasn’t confident at all. After I realized Reena Brooke was your mom, I figured I had very little chance of ever winning you back, but my plan was to wear you down with begging. I hadn’t ruled out sending a Google Maps photo of your Boston apartment to get you to agree.”
I give him a playful shove. “And what did I agree to, exactly?”
“Dating, Lexington. We’re dating officially, exclusively, and short-distance. Let’s be very clear this time, in case we run into any Zoes or ex-boyfriends of yours.”
I squeeze his arm, laughing. “I thought about dating the Ninth King of Rome. We were getting tight, even though I thought he was an old man. Remind me to teach you how to use emojis.”
“Hold up, get in line. First thing we’re working on is Star Wars. We’re having a movie marathon. Starting tonight, if I can get you away from my family. They’ll insist on having you for dinner. Are you okay with—”
“Yes.” I bounce on my toes. “I’d love to meet your parents, and I already love Katie and your grandpa.”
Mark cringes. “Uh, Nonno asked my uncle Flavio to come—emotional support, I think—and I wanted Mariella and Luca. In case I needed backup. And my aunt Alice found out she had vacation days . . . You realize you’ve agreed to date my whole family, right?”
I’m laughing so hard I don’t even see him swoop in for another kiss until I feel his mouth on my eyebrow, then he’s whispering in my ear, “Seriously, let me know if it’s ever too much and I can try to contain them.”
I swing around to face him, staring into his eyes so he sees how earnest I am. “I’m an orphan with no siblings and no grandparents. Your big, in-your-face family is the best gift you could give me.”
He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and nods. “Well, that’s good, because I actually don’t think I could keep them out of our business. I think they would have disowned me if I hadn’t figured out how to win you back.”
We return to Kathryn and Santino. Kathryn has her hands clasped at her throat and her eyes trained on Mark.
He gives her a furtive thumbs-up as we approach and she squeals.
“I knew it! You looked so sad at your office yesterday. I was sure it was because Mark panic-ghosted you. Isn’t he the worst?
” She tosses him an alarmed look, then turns back to me. “I mean, he’s great and he always—”
Mark covers her mouth with his hand and she tries to pry it off, laughing.
Santino gives me another hug. “There’s no backing out now. We’ve already absorbed you into the family, whether you like it or not. Luca said you laugh at Mark’s jokes.”
We chat with Katie and Santino for a little bit until I have to get back to work. “Did you want to check out the church?” I ask Katie before we leave.
She hands me my umbrella. “Nah, looks good.”
Mark laughs. “She was just here to spy on us, trust me. She doesn’t care where the wedding takes place.”
We part ways, and I swing by my apartment to freshen up before Mark comes to take me to his family’s house for dinner, and as I clear out work papers from my purse, I see the envelope I meant to find a frame for.
I set it with the other envelopes and letters, and my gaze snags on the last line of the Trevi Fountain letter.
Throw a coin in, Lexi. Now. No matter the cost. No matter who’s watching. Mark my words, you’ll be glad you let go.
Mark my words.
That’s nothing. A common phrase.
Just to prove it’s a coincidence, I look back through all Mom’s letters, and by the time I’m done reading them, my hands are shaking and I’m in stitches with incredulous laughter.
Mark is in every single one.
It was his humorous honesty that hit the mark, not someone else’s poetry.
The mark of a good relationship is to speak your mind with sincerity and gentleness.
I wasn’t expecting to fall in love, but as you can probably tell from my letters, he marks every memory I have of Italy.
Even the sticky note on her painting said, Marked for Rome.
Now I’m sure. None of the envelope painting sightings were a coincidence. Mom’s envelopes and letters led me to Mark and showed me how to choose life over souvenirs, the future over the past, the serendipity over the plan.
Like Santino said, Italy isn’t a magical fairy tale. But the heart of Italy—a mother’s love—is as strong as magic. It’s miraculous.