When in Rome...Break His Heart

by Lena Mae Hill

  “It’s supposed to be small,” Maggie said. “Back then, big penises were considered vulgar and a sign of low intelligence.”

  “All the intelligence in the world can’t make up for that tiny little thing. No wonder he had to slay Goliath. He had little-man syndrome.”

  “Don’t be crass,” Maggie said. “David represents the perfect man. He’s a man of higher intelligence who’s not ruled by the body’s lustful, base instincts.”

  Unlike her. Maggie had been nothing but a giant dick since meeting Enzo—ruled by lust and her body’s baser instincts, against all intelligent reasoning.

  “You sound exactly like Weston right now,” Kristina said, interrupting Maggie’s depressing thoughts.

  “Well, we studied about him together.”

  “Is Weston a man of higher intelligence?” Kristina asked, giggling.

  “You’re so immature.” They moved off so others could get a better view. Maggie looked back one more time at David’s intent marble face.

  “Oh, relax, I’m kidding. What I really want to know is how much you’re enjoying your man of lower, lustful instincts,” Kristina said as they moved further into the museum.

  “Let’s go see Michelangelo’s Prisoners,” Rory said, studying her museum guide.

  “So…?” Kristina asked, elbowing Maggie. “How is it?”

  “Can we talk about something else for once? Sheesh. We’re in a museum.”

  “Well, sorry,” Kristina said, crossing her arms. “It’s not like it’s a church.”

  “It is kind of like that. Let’s just enjoy the art.”

  “I saw the David,” Kristina said. “That’s really all I came to see. How long do you want to be in here?”

  “A long time,” Maggie said. “And then we’re going to another museum. If you don’t like art, maybe you shouldn’t have come.”

  “You’re right. Maybe I shouldn’t have.” Kristina stomped ahead and refused to look at Maggie for the rest of the morning. After the museum, they barely spoke as they walked along the cobbled street until they found a little bistro that served brunch.

  “I’m sorry I said you shouldn’t have come,” Maggie said once they’d settled in at a little table overlooking the street. The place was open to the street, with four tall doors standing open and the tables just inside. “That wasn’t very nice of me. I’m glad you’re here with us.”

  “I’ll forgive you on one condition,” Kristina said, leaning back and crossing her arms. “Tell us the truth. Is Enzo like a billion times better in bed than Weston?”

  To Maggie’s surprise, Rory looked on with curiosity and not a bit of shock.

  “What? No.” Maggie ducked her head and looked at her menu, but Kristina tugged it from her hands and held it out of reach.

  “Don’t lie. You’re all over each other every time you even see each other across a room. You’re like magnets.”

  Maggie shrugged. “Yeah, I’m attracted to him. So what? You know that.”

  “So how’s the sex?” A harried waiter who barely spoke English came to take their orders—they all got lattes and biscotti. Once he left, Kristina nudged Maggie. “So?”

  “Not that great,” Maggie admitted.

  “What?” Kristina shrieked. “How can it be bad? You’re so into him.”

  “It’s not bad,” Maggie said. “It’s just not…Weston.”

  Rory gave her a sympathetic smile, but Kristina said, “Oh my God, you’re hopeless.”

  “Sorry. I’ve been with him forever. He knows what I like.”

  “So tell Enzo. It’s not fair to compare him to someone you’ve been sleeping with for years. Help the guy out. He’s not psychic.”

  “I know.”

  “So stop being a prude and just tell him what you want.”

  Their food arrived, much to Maggie’s relief. She was used to telling Kristina about Weston, their plans, their little arguments. Kristina gave good advice at times, especially when it came to coming up with ideas for dates or special occasions, wardrobe choices, and ways to keep a guy on his toes. But Maggie didn’t usually go into detail about her sex life—after all, she and Weston had it down so well that she didn’t have anything to tell.

  “How bad is it?” Rory asked after they’d all began eating.

  Maggie sighed.

  “That’s a good question,” Kristina said. “Don’t tell me he’s a superior intellect.”

  “No, that’s not it,” Maggie said.

  “Then what is it?”

  Maggie blotted her mouth with a napkin. “You know how you said I should tell him what I want? Well, I don’t really have enough time.”

  “Like, not enough time because there’s so many things he’s doing wrong, or not enough time before it’s over?”

  “The second.”

  “Poor guy,” Kristina said, sipping her latte.

  “Poor guy?” Rory asked. “You mean, poor Maggie.”

  “Thank you,” Maggie said. “But really, it’s not that big a deal. He says he just gets excited. Maybe it’s a compliment.”

  “It seems like it would be a bigger compliment if he cared about your experience enough to control himself,” Rory said.

  “Day-umm” Kristina said.

  Redness began spreading across Rory’s chest and up her neck. “Not that I know,” she mumbled into her biscotti. “It just seems like…”

  “Aww, come on, give the guy a break,” Kristina said. “Maybe he hasn’t been with anyone in a while. And sometimes it just takes a little time before you get comfortable with someone. I only get off, like, half the time with Armani.”

  “Really?” Maggie asked, her eyes widening. “He’s such a good dancer. You know what they say about a guy with good rhythm.”

  “Like you said, it’s not a big deal. We’re not guys. We don’t get off every time. I’ve never been one of those girls who can orgasm just like that.” She snapped her fingers to demonstrate. “And he’s willing to go the extra mile to make it happen afterwards.”

  “Enzo just falls asleep. Or I do. Or we get up and do something else.”

  “That’s lazy,” Rory said.

  “So you never get off with him?” Kristina asked.

  Maggie crunched into an almond cookie spear a little harder than necessary. “Not yet.”

  “Oh, girl. I’m sorry. I never would have guessed. I thought Italians were good in bed. No wonder you’ve been bitchy lately.”

  “It’s fine,” Maggie said. “It’s really okay. I’ll probably never see him again, anyway.”

  “I thought you had a date on Sunday.”

  “It’s not a date,” Maggie said. “And anyway, I think I’m going to tell him I’m done. I’m not really into the games, and he’s way too into them.”

  “That’s how you get the guys,” Kristina said. “And how they get the girls. I mean, it worked for him, didn’t it?”

  Maggie didn’t want to admit that Kristina was right. So she said, “We’re going home in a couple weeks anyway.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re going to get back together with Weston.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “How often did his enormous intellect get you off?”

  Maggie stirred her latte with a biscotti. “Every time, of course. We know each other. I’ve told you that.”

  “Um, no, you haven’t,” Kristina said. “You told me he knows what you like. But every time? That’s impossible.”

  “Why? He gets off every time. Why shouldn’t I?”

  “I am so not sorry for you anymore,” Kristina said, shaking her head and wiping crumbs off her lap. “Are you hearing this, Rory?”

  “Yeah. Lucky.”

  “What about you?” Kristina asked her. “How often does Ned get you there?”

  “We haven’t really…It hasn’t come up.”

  “It hasn’t come up? Rory. Girl. You live together.”

  “We don’t live together,” Rory said. “Not like that. And we’re taking it slow.”
>
  “I think that’s sweet,” Maggie said. “Plus, you know, we’re leaving. You can’t get too serious with someone here.”

  “Actually, I applied for this internship thing,” Rory said. “For travel photography. I mean, I probably won’t get it. But if I did…”

  “You’re just going to stay here?” Kristina asked.

  “I’d have to work out the details,” Rory said. “But yeah. Not forever. Just for a month, or maybe the rest of the summer, if my house mom would let me keep living there. I’d pay rent and everything. Ned’s here for the rest of the summer, too.”

  “You sneaky little fox,” Kristina said. “I never would’ve guessed you’d be the one staying. When we first met, I thought you’d be on a plane back to Arkansas within the first week. And here you are, making it through the whole six weeks and staying. Go Rory.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  They spent the rest of the day exploring the many museums of Florence and walking the streets marveling at the buildings until their feet were too blistered and sore to walk any further. Then they headed back to the hotel where Kristina taught them a card game that required them to take shots. They didn’t have any liquor so they took shots of white wine and were soon all drunk and laughing.

  “Girl, you should text Enzo,” Kristina said.

  “Why? He’ll just ask if we’re having a pillow fight in our underwear.”

  “So tell him we are,” Kristina said. “Give him something to think about until Sunday. Here, let’s send him a picture.”

  “No,” Maggie said, pulling her phone away when Kristina reached for it.

  “Why not? Have a little fun for once in your life.”

  “I am having fun.”

  “So have a little more fun. There’s nothing wrong with teasing a guy if you’re going to give him what he wants, anyway.”

  “I’m not going to give him all my friends, as much as he’d like that,” Maggie said. “And it’s weird to send him pictures of other girls.”

  “Not other girls,” Kristina said, rolling her eyes. “It’s us. And you’d be in it, too.”

  “He already thinks you’re his dream American girl,” Maggie said. “Don’t encourage him.”

  “Really?” Kristina asked. “Did he say that?”

  “Pretty much. Now let’s just play the game.”

  “Italians do have good taste,” Kristina said, shuffling the deck.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing,” Kristina said. “Just that Weston’s kind of a douche. And Enzo’s kind of cool, even if he is lame in the sack.”

  “I can’t believe you’re still pushing him on me.”

  “I’m not pushing him on you,” Kristina said. “I just think he’s better than Weston.”

  “Better how?” Maggie asked. “He’s a complete ass.”

  “Then how come you dumped Weston for him?”

  “I didn’t dump Weston for him,” Maggie said. “I wanted to be on my own, to make my own choices.”

  “And you made a good one in Enzo. Why are you getting all pissed?”

  “Because Enzo’s not a good decision. And maybe I wouldn’t have made that mistake if you hadn’t constantly pushed him on me.”

  “Me? Come on, Mags, we’ve been over this. You don’t do anything you don’t want to do.”

  “Can we play?” Rory asked, reaching for the cards.

  “I think you’re jealous,” Maggie said. “I think you wanted me to break up with Weston. You tried to sabotage me because I’m smarter than you and I get better grades.”

  “Yeah, because that’s what’s important to me? I’m not jealous of you. Trust me.”

  “Okay, then maybe it’s because Alex dumped you and I still had Weston.”

  “You’re the one who’s jealous,” Kristina said. “You’re jealous because Enzo thinks I’m hotter than you.”

  “Can I deal?” Rory asked.

  “And you just love it, don’t you?” Maggie spat back at Kristina. “Running around in those tiny little skirts, showing off all the time.”

  “At least I don’t dress like a grandma who thinks it’s a sin to show her knees.”

  “Come on, you two,” Rory said, finally prying the cards from Kristina’s hand. “You’ve both had too much wine. Let’s just go to bed before you say something you regret.”

  “No, let’s say it,” Kristina said. “What do you have to say, Maggie? Tell me.”

  “You sabotaged my relationship with Weston by telling me Enzo was better,” Maggie said. “You couldn’t stand the thought that Alex had dumped you but I was still happy with my boyfriend, and you weren’t. If you hadn’t stuck your nose in my business, I’d probably be engaged by now.”

  “Oh, that’s rich,” Kristina said. “It’s my fault that your boyfriend didn’t propose? Face it, Maggie, Weston didn’t ask you to marry him because he doesn’t want to marry you.”

  “Well, I guess now we’ll never know,” Maggie said. “Because you convinced me to dump him. So I guess you won, Kristina. I hope you’re happy.”

  “It has nothing to do with me,” Kristina said. “Maybe you shouldn’t have waited around so long and let him think you were happy to wait. He’s the marrying type. He’s probably going to be married to someone else in two months, because she has the balls to make him ask.”

  Maggie’s throat tightened so hard she thought she might cry right there. But she went into the bathroom to brush her teeth instead. She would not give Kristina the satisfaction of making her cry. She’d already ruined too much.

  What had Maggie been thinking? She wasn’t friends with Kristina and Cynthia because she was secretly like them. She chose friends like that because she wanted to be like that, but couldn’t. Because she wasn’t and never would be. That wasn’t who she was.

  The real her was the one she’d always been, not the floozy from Italy, the person she’d become while she was there. How could the real her be the one she’d been for three weeks, not twenty-one years? She didn’t even know that person. It wasn’t her at all.

  Before she lost her nerve, she took out her phone and dialed. It rang six times before Weston answered.

  “Hi, Maggie.” He sounded more weary than wary this time.

  “Hi,” she said, her legs almost giving way when she heard his voice. She held onto the counter and closed her eyes. “Did I wake you up?”

  “It’s three o’clock in the afternoon here.”

  “Oh, right. I forgot.”

  “Are you…drunk?”

  “What if I am?” she asked.

  “What do you want, Maggie?” The patronizing patience was back in his voice.

  “I want…I wanted to tell you that…I miss you.” She did. She cherished it, the ache of not being with him, holding it close as if it were more precious than the locket he’d given her, the one she no longer wore.

  “Okay.”

  “Do you miss me?”

  “What’s this really about, Maggie?”

  She put the lid down on the toilet and sat down. “I figured it out.”

  “What did you figure out?” He was indulging her. She could tell by his tone. But she deserved worse.

  “You said to call you when I figured out who I really was.”

  “I don’t think I said that, but okay. Who are you?”

  “I’m Maggie,” she said. “I’m the same Maggie I always have been. That’s what I figured out.”

  “What a revelation.”

  “But, see, I had to figure it out myself.”

  “Well,” he said. “Good for you.”

  She took a deep breath and massaged her temple. “I still want what I always wanted,” she said. “I still love you.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “I do,” she insisted. “Don’t you love me?”

  He hesitated, and her chest tightened so much her breath came in short little gasps. He couldn’t say no. He couldn’t.

  “Of course I do,” he said, his voice sof
ter now. “We’ve been together for seven years. That doesn’t disappear overnight.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry for breaking up with you. I miss you so much, Weston. I do. You’re all I think about. I’m…I’m so sorry. I made a mistake.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “You did.”

  For a second, ten seconds, a minute, she tried to stop the tears leaking from the corners of her eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” she said again. “Please forgive me.”

  “I’ll get there,” he said. “But that doesn’t happen overnight, either.”

  “But you’ll try?” she asked. “Because I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I promise.”

  “Maggie,” he said.

  She didn’t like the way he said it at all. “What? I will. I’m serious about this, Weston. I’m so sorry for what I did, but I’ll never do it again.”

  “Do you think, from this conversation, that we’re back together?”

  This time, she hesitated. “I guess, yeah, I do,” she said at last. “I said I was sorry. And I am. I still love you, and you still love me. Doesn’t that mean…don’t you want to?”

  He had to want to. They were Weston and Maggie. Even when she’d broken up with him, even when she’d been with Enzo, she’d always still been part of that. All she’d wanted was to take a break, to figure things out. She’d never meant for it to be permanent. It had never been over in her mind.

  “No,” he said quietly.

  “You said you’d forgive me.”

  “I will. Look, Maggie, I have to go.”

  “Are you with someone?” she asked. “Right now, are you with another girl?”

  “No.”

  “But you met someone. That’s why, right?”

  “I’m not having this conversation. I already told you that. We’re not talking about this.”

  “We are now.”

  “I’m sorry, Maggie. I’m sorry that you felt the need to go all the way to Italy before you could tell me you wanted to break up. And I’m sorry that it didn’t work out with that guy you met over there. But you can’t expect me to sit here waiting for you to come home. I’m sorry you regret your mistake already. And I’m sorry I don’t want to get back together with you right now. But I don’t.”

  “Weston, no. You can’t do this to us. Please.”