She wrapped her arm around Marco’s waist once they were standing, and they disappeared down the hall.
“I am so sorry,” Tina said, rubbing her temples. She came to my side, patted my shoulder, and left the dining room.
“Um.” Matthew planted a crooked smile to his face and hurried after his wife. I took an uneasy seat back at the table and studied the old-fashioned clock on the wall opposite of me, the ticking of the second hand echoing loud in my ears.
Ten minutes later, Marco appeared at the entrance of the dining room with his eyes on me and his hands tucked in his pockets.
“Are you . . . is she . . .?” I couldn’t bring myself to finish.
He released a ragged breath. “I told her I was Antony, my father, and it calmed her down.” He shook his head. “My papà and I look much alike. She needs him right now, but I don’t like doing that. It’s not good to feed into her problems like that.”
I stood up and came to his side as he closed the gap between us. “I’m so sorry if I caused your family any trouble.”
He immediately pulled his hands from his pockets and placed them on each side of my shoulders. “I wasn’t thinking,” he said in a low voice. “We should go. We can get an early start to the airport.”
We said our goodbyes to his aunt and uncle, and the growing feeling of sadness increased inside me, the pain wading around in my stomach.
Marco didn’t say much on our ride back to the airport. And he barely spoke while we waited in line at security and passport control. It wasn’t until we were sitting near our gate after a long, awkward period of horrifying quietness that he finally made direct eye contact with me.
“Maybe we’ll run into Sean and Lori. That might be their flight that taxied in.”
“That’d be nice. I was hoping I’d get a chance to say goodbye to them before I head back to the States.” Goodbye. God, how would I say goodbye to Marco?
“When is your flight home?”
“Sunday night.”
“I thought you were planning on attending the opening game.”
“Will and I will take a few quick shots, and then head to the airport.”
I could see the torment in his eyes. He probably realized he was wearing his emotions, because he looked down at the old, faded blue carpet.
“Will you go to the game?” I was fidgeting with my fingers once again, nervousness piling up on me like heavy stacks of bricks.
“No.” Zero hesitation.
A few long minutes ticked by as we sat in silence. All I could focus on was the loud sounds of the announcements over the intercom.
“Do you think you needed all of this time to write the story about me for your boss?”
His unexpected question had me sitting upright. I peeked over my shoulder at him, studying his profile. He was still looking down at the floor as if in a daze. “I could have probably gathered what I needed in a few days,” I answered honestly.
“So why did your editor have you come here all of this time?”
If you only knew . . . Before I had a chance to say anything, I caught sight of Lori and Sean coming through the door. They had just exited their plane.
Only a few feet away, Sean turned around and faced Lori, dropping to one knee.
The people who had followed Sean and Lori up the gangway almost plowed right into them, but Sean ignored the other passengers, remaining an obstacle—only caring about one person.
Lori stared down at Sean with wide eyes, and I noticed Marco had his phone out and on camera mode. There were murmurs from the crowd of passengers as they shuffled around Lori and Sean. The people seated around me began whispering as well.
“Lori, I’m a total and complete idiot,” Sean said loud enough so that I could hear. He reached into his small, duffel carry-on bag, which was on the floor next to him, and retrieved a small blue box.
Lori gasped and covered her mouth.
“I should have done this a long time ago. I’ve been hanging on to this ring forever,” he said in a shaky, excited voice as he popped it open.
“Sean,” Lori cried, “are you sure?”
“I have to do it now. I can’t wait any longer. And I promise this has nothing to do with football.”
Marco nudged me in the shoulder, and I saw a smile light his cheek. He was in on this. He must have told Sean we’d be in the area, and Sean had asked for Marco to capture the scene on camera.
I redirected my attention back to Lori as Sean took her hand in his. “Lori, I’m a better man because of you. Football is just football, but with you at my side as my wife, football is so much more. My life is so much more with you in it. And I want to make it official. I want to have babies. I was stupid for taking this long, but I’m ready,” Sean said in one, long-winded breath. “Lori Ryan, will you marry me?”
I touched my hand to my chest, awed by the moment.
Lori’s fingers trembled, and her eyes glinted with the threat of tears. “We’d better get married fast because I don’t want to be showing at our wedding,” she choked out.
Sean rose to his feet, still clutching the ring in one hand, and holding her hand with his other. His skin was flushed, and he was shaking his head. “Whh . . . what?”
“I just found out,” she said in a low voice, and then whispered something in his ear.
Sean flung his arms out wide and jumped in the air. “I’m going to be a dad!” he shouted, alarming the people passing by. He caught sight of Marco and I and rushed over to us. “Did you hear that?” He paused halfway to us and spun back around to face Lori. “That was a yes, right? You’re going to marry me?”
Lori tipped her head back in laughter. “Yes,” she said as she swiped at her tears.
Marco and I hurried to join them, and the crowd of people—many of whom were now recording the event—began applauding.
After a few hugs and exchanges of congratulations, Lori pulled me aside, but I noticed her grimacing. “I wish I didn’t have all those shots at the club last week. I had no clue I was pregnant until two days ago. But it explains my Jekyll and Hyde behavior of late, not to mention my recent bout of nausea.” She was glowing for two reasons now. “There goes the whole three-month rule! Everyone knows now.”
I waved my hand. “Rules were made to be broken.”
Nineteen
My brain was shot from the day. Sadness, grief, excitement. I felt like a shoddy diving board—if I took on any more weight, I’d snap right in the middle.
My eyes were growing tired as I stared at my computer screen.
When Marco dropped me off at my hotel, we’d shared an awkward goodbye. He had given me a quick hug and a kiss on the forehead as if I were his kid sister. I wasn’t sure what that meant, but we had agreed to meet after lunch at the stadium tomorrow so Will and I could wrap up any last pictures Will might need for the piece.
My screen was blank. Anything and everything I wanted to say was impossible to put into words. Not to mention a violation of Marco’s wishes. As a journalist, it was my job to knock down the walls of privacy. But in this case, I couldn’t do it. I was beginning to agree with Francesca, that I was the wrong person for this job. There was no way I could be objective. But I couldn’t give her the opportunity to wreck his life with whatever spin she’d want to put on the story.
No, I couldn’t let Francesca within a hundred feet of Marco. And the only way I could protect him was to write a great story myself.
I tapped my finger on the desk and tried to focus, but my mind kept drifting to all of the parts of Marco I couldn’t write about. “Ugh.” Frustrated, I switched to Google and began researching heart attacks and stroke victims.
I wanted to learn more, to understand it. Was there any way I could help?
I blinked when I discovered that the top rated rehabilitation treatment center for stroke victims was in New York City. It seemed almost too good to be true. The hospitals in Rome were fantastic, but the centers I had found were known to produce drastic results in regards
to the improvement of speech and memory following strokes.
But would he think I was trying to rope him into coming to the States so I could be near him?
Then again, shouldn’t he already know about the center? The man loved his mother something fierce—of course he’d already done his research, right?
I scribbled down the top three facilities—the second was in Sweden, and the third was in Maryland. I would give him options.
I pushed away from my desk and bit the tip of my pen, thinking about how to approach the conversation without looking like an idiot.
The buzzing of my cell caused my shoulders to flinch. I glanced at the message, which was from Will.
Can you meet me at the hotel bar? It’s important. Sorry to bug you so late.
I typed out a quick response, threw on some clothes, and rushed out of my room, worry moving through me. Will wouldn’t have texted me like that if there wasn’t something wrong.
As I rushed into the nearly empty bar, I spotted Will sitting at a table by the window, right near where Marco and I had sat on the night we met. Chills skated across my skin as I moved toward him, thinking about the words that Marco and I had exchanged that night.
“Thanks for coming.” Will rose from his seat and gave me a quick hug. “How was London?”
I frowned at him. “Are you okay?”
He settled back into his seat and brought his tumbler to his lips and glanced out of the corner of his eye as a woman passed our table. Her eyes flashed his way, but he astounded me by looking away from her with disinterest. “I need your help,” he mumbled.
I slumped into my chair and pressed my hands to the small, circular table, waiting for him to continue. “What is it, Will?”
He rubbed his hands over his face. “After you and Marco bailed on me at the helicopter, I decided to call up Maria. She, of course, wouldn’t speak to me.” He touched his heart with a clenched fist. “I feel like I’m gonna have a damn heart attack.”
Oh God. Don’t say that.
“I miss her.”
I leaned back in my chair, surprised.
“She won’t talk to me.”
I shook my head and folded my arms. “I don’t blame her. You told her not to expect a future. Any future. You basically said she was a fun time in Rome . . .” I wanted to slap him, if only for Maria’s sake.
His light eyes were sharp on me. “I made a mistake.” He threw his hands in the air between us. “I can’t stop thinking about her. And that’s never happened to me before. Like never.”
I perked my brows. “You love her?” I wasn’t prepared to think such a thing was possible for me, let alone Will.
“Hey now,” he said, showing me his palms, “I didn’t say that. I just miss her. I want to be with her, and I think I royally screwed up.”
“Damn right you did.” I straightened in my chair and dropped my arms, pulling my brows together with nostrils flaring. “But it’s not too late,” I amended, moments later.
“I doubt that. It’s been radio silence for days.” He swallowed another mouthful of liquid.
“If you want her, then don’t give up. If she sees how relentless and persistent you are, then you might have a fighting chance.”
“You really think so?”
I thought about it for a moment. If a guy pissed me off, but I truly cared for him, I would forgive his blunder, wouldn’t I?
“Call her. Text her. Knock on her hotel room door. Every morning, day, and night.”
“Be a stalker?” He guffawed.
“Until she presses charges.” I smirked. “And let’s hope she doesn’t do that.”
“I guess,” he agreed slowly. “What about you? How was London? Why’d he take you there?”
I wasn’t sure what to say. I didn’t want to lie to my best friend, but I also couldn’t tell him the truth. “I discovered why Marco’s quitting. But I can’t—”
Will raised his hands in the air once again, stopping me. “Say no more. No worries.”
I loved that my friend was so understanding. We’d grown to trust each other. Despite the way he treated other women, Will was one of the few men in my life I knew I could always count on.
“Are you prepared to leave in a week?”
“No.” The idea of never seeing Marco again had my stomach doing strange somersaults.
“Kind of crazy, right?” Will leaned back in his seat and studied me.
“What?”
He grinned, and said, “We flew in here only two weeks ago—us! And now we’re both figuring out how to survive without—”
“Speak for yourself!” I interrupted, but Will knew damn well I was a goner.
“Baby girl, you’ve got it even worse than me.”
I opened my mouth to defend myself, but I wasn’t sure if I was capable of the lie. “Let’s get this story done.”
My abs tightened as I thought about putting an ocean between Marco and I. In a lame attempt at deflection, I announced, “Sean and Lori are engaged, and since it’s all over social media now, I guess I can tell you—she’s pregnant.”
Will’s mouth opened wide as he touched the goatee he was now sporting. “You’re shitting me?”
“Happened at the airport in London. I saw the whole thing.”
“Wow. I guess it’s about time for them. Looks like their life is pretty damn perfect now. Maybe you and I can have the same luck?”
“I have no intention of getting pregnant,” I joked as my lips flipped up into a smile.
“You get pregnant before I get a chance to be your man of honor—”
I laughed. “Oh, you think you’re going to be my man of honor.” I pressed a hand to my cheek. “Wait a second. Who the hell am I marrying?”
Will only chuckled in response.
“You’ll be getting hitched long before me.”
“Sure, sure. Keep telling yourself that, baby girl. I’ve seen your googly eyes when you look at Marco. You’ve got Italian fever, and there is no cure.”
“Oh my God. Since when did you become such a cheesy romantic?”
He placed a hand on his heart. “We’re in Rome. Love is contagious, so it seems.”
My mouth dropped open. “I thought you said you weren’t in love.”
“You know what I mean . . .”
“Uh huh. Sure.” I grinned at my friend, stunned by how he’d changed in two weeks.
As had I.
Twenty
Marco had no choice but to interact with his former teammates. My heart broke as I watched him play, maybe for the last time. His teammates, begrudgingly, invited him to practice with them. It had been obvious by their shouting that they were pissed and wanted him gone, but then I wasn’t sure what happened because they began patting him on the back, hugging him . . . had he told them the truth?
He’d been playing for over an hour, and every once in a while he’d glance my way, nodding or waving. Will had joined the field and was now taking pictures. His mood was still not the greatest. He’d taken my advice to seek out Maria, and she still wasn’t responding.
I squinted in the sunlight, having forgotten my shades.
Beads of sweat rolled down Marco’s spine as he weaved around the players, kicking the ball down the field. My heart thumped loud in my chest as he neared the goal and took a shot.
The goalie flew in front of the ball, his hands outstretched in front of him.
I jumped from my seat in the auditorium, my fists in the air as he scored. I was alone in the audience, and yet I was acting like he’d just won a match against an opposing team.
Marco glanced up at me, and I had some stupid smile on my face. I was acting like a teenager. How obvious!
I was dreading going back to the hotel at the end of the game. I would have to write the first draft of the story. I was running out of time.
“Oh God,” I whispered beneath my breath when I caught sight of the blades of a helicopter. Was that the owner? Fear knotted inside me, and I popped up to my fee
t, ready to protect Marco if I could. I raced out of the seating area and crash landed on my butt after popping over the railing like a damn acrobat. I rubbed my rear end as I stood up from the turf. That would leave a bruise, I was sure.
“Now that was classy,” Will said, holding his hand in front of his mouth, trying to stifle his laughter.
“I need to get to Marco,” I gasped.
Will glanced over his shoulder at the team as they gathered at center field and looked back at me. “You want me to get him for you?”
“Um.” I bit my thumb, contemplating what to do. What was I even thinking? Maybe the owner wouldn’t come to the field. And even if he did, what would I say to him: “Don’t yell at Marco?”
“What’s wrong, Maggie?” Will pressed a hand to my shoulder.
My eyes fixated on the camera around Will’s neck. “Nothing. I just, um . . .” I looked up and caught sight of a man entering from the other side of the field. “Wow, that was fast.”
“What was fast?”
“Is that the owner?” A man in black slacks and a white tee was heading toward the team. Marco and the players shifted to face him.
Marco gripped the ball with both hands. When the man motioned for Marco to come his way, Marco tossed the ball to another guy and sprinted toward the owner. I was standing a good distance away on the other side of the field, but I could hear what sounded like whispers from the players.
Maybe it was the owner’s son. The guy didn’t look like what I had expected. He didn’t even look over thirty.
“What do you think they’re talking about?” Will asked in my ear.
I shook my head and wondered if I’d be able to get my feet to move. They were growing roots, and I became securely attached to the ground. “I have to assume he’s pissed at Marco for quitting. But maybe Marco will explain his reasoning.”
“Do you agree with Marco about quitting?”
I wasn’t entirely sure, but I answered, “I believe everyone has to do whatever they think is best for themselves.” I scratched my forehead, thinking. “Like maybe you should get out of here and hunt down Maria.”
Forever Rome (Forever #1) Page 22
