Okay, so she had spent a lot of this trip ducking into every little gelateria and cafe she could find, ecstatic about the possibilities and wanting a nibble at each separate store and restaurant. A lot of her experience of Italy so far was food-related.
She had taken such a barrage of photos for Jillian that her phone now gave her dire warnings about low storage whenever she unlocked it. She didn’t care.
Who could pass up the chance to take pictures of Rome from the back of a pegasus? She would have one hell of a time explaining to strangers how she had gotten photos looking down at the city from such a height—but it was worth it.
But the best part of Italy wasn’t the food or the scenery. It was Martin.
It was looking at him next to her on the bed at night as he silently tried to pronounce words from his Italian dictionary. It was him spearing a perfectly delectable piece of gnocchi on his fork and leaning across the table to feed it to her. It was sex and room service and still no brownie sundae because the Italian hotels would have died before serving them something so American.
It was the way he took her through Rome and explained the carvings and buildings with all the knowledge his parents had given him. He saw them with fresh eyes too, excited to finally be there in person. It was the way he expected her to understand him.
And she did. She bought glossy books on Ancient Roman art and architecture and studied them at night while Martin practiced his Italian. She learned about dirty, profane graffiti left on the walls of Pompeii. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same.
Except with her. Except with them.
He had changed her for good, and she was so much better for it than she had been before, and so much more alive.
And she knew he was better and happier too. She had plugged him back into life after he’d been disconnected from it for so long. She took care of him as much as he took care of her. And when he was worn out with trying to take care of the whole world, she was there, strong enough to stand on her own two feet and help him up whenever he needed it. Just like he helped her.
The universe had known what it was doing, bringing the two of them together.
One night she cast her own books aside and moved to sit in front of him on the bed, her knees touching his. She smiled and dragged over one of the tourist guides. She opened it to one of the dialogue samples. The whole page was nothing but question and answer exchanges about where to find bathrooms and the Coliseum and the restaurant with the best ravioli.
She laid the book between them where they could both see it.
“Want a partner?”
Martin smiled in a way that made her feel like she was dissolving in front of him. “If it’s you? Always.”