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Now, seeing the way she took in the city with the same quiet reverence she always had, I realized how much time I had wasted.
I took us down Via del Corso, past the grand palazzos, dodging taxis andmotorini. We stopped at the Trevi Fountain, where she tossed in a coin, rolling her eyes at the tradition but still making a wish.
"What’d you wish for?" I asked.
She smirked. "If I tell you, it won’t come true."
A teasing smile played at my lips. "That’s just an old wives' tale. Now, tell me."
She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “No, I don’t think I’ll tell you.”
So, I kissed her into submission. Shestilldidn’t tell me.
From there, we wound our way to Piazza Navona, where street performers, artists, and musicians entertained the passing tourists.
Elysa’s eyes lit up as she spotted a caricature artist, and before I could protest, she grabbed my hand, pulling me toward the stand, insisting we get a sketch done.
"This is ridiculous," I muttered, sitting stiffly on the stool while the artist sized us up with a critical eye.
"Loosen up, Signor Irresistible," she mocked, nudging me with her knee.
The artist exaggerated my jawline and made Elysa’s cheeks more pronounced. By the time he was done, she was laughing so hard she had to wipe tears from the corners of her eyes.
"You look like a brooding soap opera villain," she gasped between giggles.
I glanced at the drawing. She wasn’t wrong. I did look ridiculous. But then I looked at her—light, happy, unguarded—and I decided that I’d look like this all the time if it made her feel this way.
We got gelato near the Pantheon, sitting on the steps of the fountain in Piazza della Rotonda. She had chocolate and hazelnut, and I had pistachio.
She tapped her spoon against mine. “To unexpected days.”
I clinked my spoon against hers. “To good company.”
She rolled her eyes but smiled anyway.
“I should’ve taken you around when you first came to Rome,” I said, regret heavy in my words. “And that time you asked me to play tourist…I should’ve been more present. More gracious.”
She put her hand on mine. “We can’t go back.”
“That is correct.”
“We can move forward.”
“On the Vespa?” I asked to lighten the moment.
She rolled her eyes again. “Fine, on the Vespa.”
As the afternoon bled into the evening, we found ourselves at the Gianicolo Terrace, which offered one of the best views of Rome. The city stretched out before us, golden under the setting sun, with domes and rooftops bathed in warm light.
Elysa rested against the railing, staring out at the skyline. I watched her instead.
“I have to ask.” She turned toward me, frowning. “How are you even here right now? No work, no urgent calls? Aren’t you usually surgically attached to your phone?”
I smirked but shook my head. “I’ve made some changes.”
Her brows lifted.
“I’ve cut back on my workload,” I admitted. “Delegated more to Tomasso. I realized I don’t have to be in control of everything for the company to run. And…I don’t want to spend my life locked in an office.”