Page 77 of The Roman Holiday Rule

I smile. “I’ll be there. Seriously, Lexington, thank you.”

I know how I want to pay her back for this, and it’s a win-win reward.

We sign the paperwork, split the price, and I wait until she sets the flower helmet on her head, looking adorable, before I leave.

I start counting the hours until I see her again.

Forty-Two

Lexi

I wheelthe scooter out to the empty parking area in front of the rental office and call Julie. I need two minutes of best-friend pep talk.

She answers, speaking over Gia giving instructions to festival volunteers in the background. “I thought you were headed out of the city.”

“I am, but I need to run something by you.”

“Lexi, stop worrying about the festival stuff. Gia and I have it under control. Go open the last letter and focus on closure.”

“It’s not about work. It’s the envelope thing.”

The background noises fade, so Julie must’ve stepped away from wherever she was working. “Did the envelope thing happenagain?”

She sounds like she just won a Broadway season tickets giveaway.

“Not today, and I doubt I’ll find an orange villa. The destination Mom’s sending me to is a field.”

“Oh.” She sounds as disappointed as I am confused.

“But Mark was at the Vespa rental office.”

“Okay, and?”

“He’s shown up every time I’ve opened or touched an envelope.Airport, reception, Trevi, Spanish Steps, Colosseum, and now today.”

She hoots. “Well, I told you—he likes you.”

“You haven’t even met him. It’s not like that. He’s been as surprised to see me as I am. Somehow, I’ve gotten tangled up in his life here.”

“Tangled, huh? That sounds promising.”

I snort. “Focus, Jules. Envelopes. What is going on?”

“What’s going on is something out of your control. Something that isn’t planned and interferes with your need to choreograph everything in your life. The question is, are you going to fight it or let it run its wild, messy, illogical course?”

That sounds highly inefficient and uncomfortable. “It doesn’t seem like I have a choice.”

“Perfect. My favorite way to let people make decisions.”

I huff. The last time life gave me no choice—when the doctor said Mom’s cancer had returned—it felt like an excavator dug a hole right out of my chest, a hole I’ve been building walls around ever since in hopes that would make it hurt less. If nothing can touch my wounded heart, that’s less painful, right?

“Relax, Lexi.” She is definitely tilting her head and giving me her stern but loving smile, even though I can’t see her. Despite her acting like a ditz at times, her moments of wise advice always come when I need them most. She takes a deep breath, and her final words are gentle. “It’s okay to be out of control and in the dark about something.”

Out of control.Those words scare me to death. I’ve worked so hard to make sure I’m never in that position again.

But as much as I’ve tried to keep Italy in a box, in my tidy schedule, Mark crashing into my week over and over has been ... I struggle to find the right word, because the first one to come to mind iseasy. Fun, yes. Enlightening and unexpected. But the main impression of Mark in Italy with me is easy. Like I can finally breathe. Like the brick walls I thought were protecting the hole in my chest were actually compressing my lungs and I didn’t even realize it until theylifted. I don’t know what’s going to happen next with Mark, but those nervous flutters at the thought of the unknowns are joyful and pleasant, not panicked.

“Thanks, Julie.”