Page 18 of The Road to You

MICHELE

R ome hums around us, chaotic, alive, and utterly magnetic.

It’s impossible not to get caught up in its energy, but beside me, Lena is quieter than usual.

Her shoulders are a little stiffer, and her smile is not as quick.

That phone call with Preston did a number on her, and I hate that he still has the power to do that.

He’s a prick. Not even man enough to have a real conversation.

How do you not even apologize to the woman you’ve been with for the past four years?

I didn’t even consider ghosting when I was twenty, but at forty, his age, it just shows how emotionally immature he is.

I know Lena is trying to get over that phone call, and most of the time she seems to forget it, but I think sometimes she’s worried about the repercussions of this situation.

She told her publicist to speak up for the first time since the scandal, and things are heating up again on the other side of the ocean.

She didn’t hold back, explaining how Preston betrayed her and how she needed to take a break to grieve her four-year relationship.

Most people are on her side. Social media is trending on the side of support for her, but like every time something like this goes down, someone is pointing fingers, saying she’s not so innocent if she’s already moved on to someone else.

Me. I’d bet my balls Preston’s entourage is spinning this shit to save his image.

Prick.

I glance at her as we weave through the bustling streets, the afternoon sun spilling golden light over the ancient buildings. I’ve spent years under stadium lights, in the adrenaline-fueled rush of the game, but right now, nothing feels more important than seeing her smile again.

“You know,” I say, nudging her arm playfully, “if you keep frowning like that, you’re going to get wrinkles.”

She rolls her eyes, but a smirk tugs at her lips. “Charming. Really, Michele, you sure know how to make a girl feel better.”

The sound of my name rolling off her lips sends a shiver of pleasure down my spine. That accent will be the death of me. And she is smiling, something I’m proud of, considering I’m the reason she’s getting out of her head.

“Just looking out for you,” I say with mock seriousness. “Aging is a real concern, you know. Any day now, we’ll be trading our nights out for early bird specials and complaining about back pain.”

She lets out a laugh, small but genuine, and something eases inside me. That’s better.

It’s always been easy for me to make people laugh.

I was always the class clown and someone who, in spite of having a career at sixteen, took his life lightly.

I would have been squashed by the pressure otherwise.

But with her, it’s more than gaining a shallow laugh.

I want her to be happy, really happy. And the thought unsettles me.

I want to keep that light in her eyes, so I grab her hand and pull her along without warning.

It’s becoming easier and easier to hold her hand in public.

At first, I was unsure about what she thought, but then she let me do it, and sometimes she’s the one reaching out for me.

It helps that it’s quite normal in Italy to display affection in public, and nobody gives us a second look if we hold hands.

God, unless we’re having sex in broad daylight, they don’t even care if we kiss.

“Where are we going?” she asks, her tone suspicious but intrigued.

“You’ll see.”

We slip through the crowd, past buzzing cafés and tourists snapping photos, until the familiar sound of rushing water fills the air. The Trevi Fountain comes into view, breathtaking as always. The marble glows under the afternoon sun, and the water shimmers, catching every speck of light.

Lena stops beside me, eyes widening. “Okay, I have to admit, that’s impressive.”

The usual awe in her eyes has been missing since Florence a couple of days ago. I’m glad it’s back, even if it lasts only a few fleeting moments. Baby steps, I tell myself. Easier said than done.

I cross my arms and nod, satisfied. “Of course it is. I wouldn’t have dragged you here for anything less.”

I have to say that it is easy to impress a woman in Rome. Any way you turn, there is some spectacular view or monument to discover.

She tilts her head, studying me. “You’re really proud of your country, huh?”

She seems genuinely intrigued by this side of me, and I can’t hide the excitement in my voice. I’m Italian, of course I’m proud of my country.

“Damn right, I am,” I say. “But I brought you here for a reason. You know the tradition, don’t you?”

She gives me a skeptical look. “Throwing money into a fountain and making a wish?” She gestures around to the dozen people doing exactly that.

I gasp in mock horror. “Lena, please. It’s not just throwing money. You have to do it properly. Right hand over the left shoulder. Otherwise, it doesn’t count.”

Her lips twitch, fighting another smile. “Oh, well, I wouldn’t want to anger the wish gods,” she jokes, and I finally start to see the old Lena, the one who laughs, smiles, and is happy.

“Exactly. Now, come on.” I fish a coin out of my pocket and hand it to her before grabbing one for myself.

She holds it between her fingers, thoughtful. “So…what do I even wish for?”

She seems really concerned about messing this thing up, and I can’t hide a small smile.

“They say that if you throw one, you will be back in Rome. If you throw two, you will find love, and three, you will marry in Rome,” I explain.

She seems to think about it for a long moment, staring at the fountain like it can give her some answers. I find myself curious about what she’ll choose. Considering she’s just had her heart broken, maybe it wasn’t the best idea to come here, but she doesn’t seem too upset.

“I’m not ready for three, but coming back here would be fantastic, and two…” She lets out a sigh and looks at me with questioning eyes. “What should I choose? One or two?”

I don’t have an answer for that because I don’t have one for myself either.

I always thought that finding love was more or less an obligation.

If you’re thirty and never married, a lot of people start wondering what’s wrong with you.

But now, beside this beautiful woman, I wonder if I’ve been missing something.

I grab other coins from my pocket and open my hand in front of her.

“That’s for you to figure out. But make it a good one. Once you throw it, there’s no taking it back.”

She grabs another coin from my hand, closes her eyes, and for a second, I just watch her. The way her brows furrow in concentration, the way her lips part slightly as if she’s whispering her wish in her mind. There’s something about Lena that makes it impossible to look away.

I force myself to turn toward the fountain, gripping my own coin.

What do I wish for? One or two coins? I’ve never forced a relationship.

I never needed to be in one to be satisfied, but love is entirely another story.

I’ve never been in love with a woman. I cared about my exes, sure, but never to the point of thinking of spending the rest of my life with them.

Maybe it’s time to toss the two coins and make a wish while I’m here.

You don’t toss it for that reason, but you never know.

For the past year, my life has been a mess. The injury. The uncertainty. The constant question of what comes next. I take a slow breath and toss the two coins. Let everything resolve. Let me finally find a solution for my life and my future…and maybe also love.

I look back at Lena just as she flicks her coins into the fountain. She opens her eyes, catching me watching her, and for a second, we just stand there, the sounds of the crowd around us fading into the background.

I want to kiss her.

The realization hits me with the force of a freight train.

It’s not just because she’s beautiful or because she’s standing here in front of one of the most romantic places in the world.

It’s everything. The way she teases me like we’ve known each other forever.

The way she doesn’t take my crap. The way she can be sharp one moment and soft the next.

I shove my hands into my pockets, forcing myself to focus. Walk, Michele, before you do something stupid.

We start walking again, making our way toward Piazza di Spagna , the Spanish Steps rising before us in all their historic glory. Lena sighs, pleased, and I swear I can feel the tension from that phone call slowly fading from her.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, she tilts her head toward me. “You’re quiet. What’s on your mind?”

I glance at her, then ahead again. There’s no point in lying. It’s what I’m thinking more and more these days, and I don’t see the point of hiding it from her. We already kissed once; she knows how I feel about that.

“I want to kiss you,” I admit with a certainty and a calm that surprises even me.

She stumbles slightly mid-step and whips her head toward me. “Excuse me?”

She seems surprised, like she is not sure she heard it right. While we never talked about that kiss, it doesn’t mean that I’ve forgotten it. It was the most amazing kiss of my life. It’s impossible to forget something that turned my chest upside down.

I chuckle. “You asked. I answered.”

Her lips part like she’s trying to figure out if I’m joking or not. “And you just…say things like that out loud?”

I shrug. “Why not? It’s the truth. You should be used to the fact that I don’t tiptoe around things.”

She studies me for a long moment, maybe trying to figure out if I’ve gone mad or if I’m just joking, but there is no doubt in what I want to do with her.

I have craved that kiss since I tasted her for the first time, and this desire is not going away anytime soon.

And I’m almost certain she feels the same way.

You can’t not notice the tension between us.

She lets out a breath, shaking her head. “And when exactly were you planning to act on this grand revelation?”

My heart jolts. It’s not a refusal. She is entertaining the idea as much as I am. Maybe she wasn’t ready the first time, but a lot has happened since then.

I smirk. “Now seems like a good time.”

She narrows her eyes at me, but there’s amusement there too. “In front of all these people?”

I gesture around us. “Why not? The world already thinks we’re having some kind of summer fling. If someone takes a picture, it’s not exactly a shocking revelation.”

She opens her mouth, then closes it again, like she’s actually considering my point.

Finally, she sighs, shaking her head with an exasperated smile. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“And yet, here you are.”

“Yeah,” she murmurs, more to herself than to me. Then she exhales slowly and steps closer, tilting her head up. “Fine. But make it worth it, Moretti.”

Oh, I intend to.

I reach for her, fingers brushing against her cheek before sliding into her hair. Her breath catches, and my pulse kicks up as I lower my head toward her.

The moment our lips meet, everything else disappears. The city moves around us, voices and footsteps, the distant melody of a street musician playing a violin. It all disappears in the background.

It’s not some polite, testing kiss. There’s no hesitation, no question about what we’re doing. It’s heat and urgency and something deeper that I can’t quite put a name to.

Her hands grip the front of my shirt, pulling me closer, and I’m drowning in her.

The warmth of her, the way she tastes like the lingering sweetness of gelato, the way she sighs against my mouth like she’s been waiting for this just as much as I have.

Everything is pulling at my chest, tightening it in a vise that almost hurts.

My tongue moves with hers in a languid dance that heats me up from the inside.

I want her. No, I need her. I need the way she makes me feel alive again, how she lights a spark in my chest and blows until it’s a fire burning with passion and desire.

It’s been months since I felt this excited to live my life, and I’m starting to think that I was dying inside without realizing it.

She takes away the numbness the accident filled me with, and it’s exciting and terrifying all at once. I don’t know if my heart is ready for this, but I’m eager to try. In this moment, there’s only her and the life she instills into my battered chest.

When we finally pull apart, she stays close, her forehead resting against mine.

“Well,” she breathes, her voice slightly unsteady, “that was…thorough.”

I chuckle, pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of her mouth. “I aim to please.”

She laughs, and that sound, that light, carefree sound, is better than any wish I could’ve made at the fountain.

And for the first time in a long time, I don’t care what happens next. I just know I want more.