When in Rome...Break His Heart

by Lena Mae Hill

  “Don’t be uptight,” he said. “If something goes wrong, I’ll fix it.”

  He pushed her against the wall, his hand already pushing her skirt up. “Come on, I haven’t seen you all week. I missed you. I’m so horny for you.”

  She thought about pointing out that he hadn’t seen her the last week, either, and he’d ignored her calls. He hadn’t missed her so much then. But he was already burying his face in her neck, kissing her collarbones.

  “Can’t you wait until we leave?” she asked. “We’re missing the Opera.”

  “The singer, she loses her love and her heart breaks,” Enzo said. “Now you know the ending.” He pulled her hand down to him, pressing against her with a raw urgency. She couldn’t believe she was really doing this. But he’d already taken his pants down, was already hitching her skirt higher. “Every time I’m around you, I can’t help it, I have to have you now.”

  It was flattering to be so wanted. To have that effect on someone. Weston had never had any trouble controlling himself. But now she wasn’t so sure that was a good thing. Like Rory had said, shouldn’t he be concerned about pleasing her, too?

  But before she could change her mind, he was already pulling down her underwear. And it never took long. He pulled her head back, kissing her neck, pushing inside her. Not two minutes later, someone knocked on the door.

  “Oh my God, stop,” she said, pushing Enzo away.

  “Hold on,” he called. He quickly did up his pants while she yanked up her underwear and smoothed her skirt.

  “What do we do?” she whispered.

  “It’s okay, I work here.”

  He opened the door and spoke in rapid Italian with the guy who had come to the door. Maggie stood behind his shoulder, ducking her head, her face an inferno. What if he got fired? What if they got arrested for public indecency? Or at least escorted out, marched through the lobby with their shame written on their faces like a scarlet letter. What had she done? This wasn’t her at all.

  Enzo was laughing with the guy now. Or at least Enzo was laughing. The other guy was shaking his head as Enzo took her hand and pulled her past him, down the hall.

  “That was a close one,” he said, still laughing as he threw an arm around her neck.

  “It’s not funny,” she hissed. “He could have seen us.”

  “No, he couldn’t,” Enzo said. “I locked it. But that’s the thrill, isn’t it? That you could get caught, but you never do.”

  “We just were,” she said, shrugging his arm off.

  “Don’t be mad at me,” he said. “Please don’t. It’s all okay. I will die of heartbreak if you are mad at me.”

  “You will not.”

  “Come on, let’s get the air you wanted,” he said. “It will be over in a minute anyway.”

  Maggie fumed as they walked outside. “I can’t believe you ruined this night.”

  “I didn’t,” he said. “Don’t be so serious. It is all fun. I will make it up to you. I will take you again before you go home.”

  “You better.” She glared at him, but just then, her phone buzzed with a text from Kristina asking where they were. The others joined them after a minute, and they all got on the tram and headed back. Maggie had to reassure Cynthia that Kristina and Nick weren’t going to get serious, and she forgot about Enzo until Cynthia told her that he’d hit on her.

  “When?” she asked after she made sure Cynthia was okay. She didn’t seem too upset about it, so Maggie didn’t want to make a big deal about it.

  “In the Opera,” Cynthia said. “Sometime before you guys left.”

  Before they left. So maybe that’s what had gotten Enzo so hot. Maybe he wasn’t hot for Maggie at all. And he didn’t like Kristina. He was just a horn dog. She couldn’t believe he’d hit on her friend, and then dragged her off into some tacky closet to have sex. And she’d let him. She was disgusted with herself. At least her friends hadn’t witnessed her shame.

  It was a small consolation, though.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said. “He’s a total pig. I cannot believe I’m still attracted to him.”

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Cynthia said. “We all love assholes. I once dated a guy who called me a frigid bitch because I wouldn’t hook up with him on the porch of his friend’s house—during a party.”

  “Did you break up with him?”

  “No,” Cynthia said, laughing. “He was too good in bed. That’s the thing about jerks, they’re always the best. Am I right?” She winked and elbowed Maggie.

  “I don’t know,” Maggie said, studying the cracks in the sidewalk as they walked. “I mean, I’m so attracted to Enzo, and I want to hook up, but it’s just…we’re not very compatible.”

  “Is he too big?” Cynthia asked, wiggling her eyebrows.

  “No, it’s just…well, he only lasts like two minutes. And he hates wearing condoms, so I’m always freaked out about that. I mean, I’m on birth control, but it still freaks me out.”

  “Wait, what do you mean? Like, he won’t wear one?” Cynthia asked, her smile vanishing.

  “He says he can’t feel anything. He hates them. I made him wear one at first, but then he took it off in the middle of it, and then he said we’d already done it without so what does it matter if we do it again?”

  “He took off the condom in the middle of having sex after you told him to wear one? Maggie, that’s like rape. I know you haven’t had to deal with all this for like, ever, but I’m serious. That’s what it is.”

  “It wasn’t like that,” Maggie said. “I wanted to do it. I just…I don’t know how to explain it. Just forget it.”

  “That’s messed up,” Cynthia said. “I can’t believe he’d do that. You need to dump his ass.”

  “But if I did that…it just feels like everything would be a waste. I’ll have dumped Weston for nothing.”

  “I know this isn’t what you want to hear,” Cynthia said. “But it’s a little late for that. You already dumped him. Punishing yourself by staying with an abusive guy isn’t going to change that or bring him back.”

  “I’m not punishing myself,” Maggie muttered. But then they got to their house, and she had to comfort Cynthia, who might have been punishing herself by not going for what she wanted, which was clearly Nick.

  After she and Nick left, Maggie and Kristina went inside and went to bed. Maggie lay awake for a long time, thinking about what Cynthia had said. If she liked Enzo, if she wanted to sleep with him, then he couldn’t have forced her. And if he’d turned out to be as good in bed as the jerk Cynthia hooked up with, would she regret it as much as she did? How shallow was that—dumping a guy because he wasn’t a rockstar in bed? She didn’t want to be that kind of girl. But she didn’t want to be the kind that stayed with a guy she didn’t like, either.

  On Monday, everyone wanted to go see the bridges on the Tiber. Maggie didn’t like to go places as an extra. At home, she always had Weston or Kristina, depending on the situation. With Weston, she was part of a whole, so if people looked at her, she still wasn’t the focal point. She was only half of it. If she went out with Kristina, she was happy to play wing woman while Kristina flirted with guys.

  So even though she was still a little mad at Enzo, she relented when he kept saying how much he missed her. They walked along the cobbled streets, watching the lights dance off the water. She was going to miss Rome. Not only that, but going home meant facing Weston. They’d have to see each other at some point. She’d have to get all her things from his apartment, give him back all of his things.

  What if he’d already gotten everything from her apartment? What if she got home to find a couple sad boxes of her things on her kitchen table, all the parts of her life with him boxed up and returned. Still, she’d have to at least get her cats back from him.

  “What are you thinking, my sexy girl?” Enzo asked, squeezing her butt.

  She swatted his hand away. “Nothing.”

  “You’re not still mad at me about the Opera?�
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  “Did you hit on my friend while we were there?” she demanded, glaring at him. “Is that why you were all over me and couldn’t wait to get home?”

  “What are you talking about?” he asked. “What friend?”

  “What friend? That’s a great question. How many of them did you hit on? Can’t keep it straight?”

  “You know I would never do that to you,” he said, then winked. “But there are other things I’d like to do to you.”

  “So you’re saying she’s a liar?”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” he said. “She must have misunderstood. I talked to her about the Opera. She must have been confused by something I said.”

  Maggie crossed her arms and kept walking. She didn’t think Cynthia had made it up or misunderstood. Enzo was an ass and he always would be. It wasn’t worth trying to change him. He’d never be Weston.

  “But I did get the worst case of, what is it called in America? The balls are blue?”

  “Blueballs?” She laughed, but not for the reason he thought. What did he think it was like for her, to always get all turned on and never get any release?

  “Yes,” he said, laughing with her. “How about you come over tonight and help me out?”

  “Why don’t you ask Cynthia?”

  They stepped onto a footbridge and watched the water below. “I only want you,” he said, pulling her against him. “Don’t you want me, too, sexy girl?”

  Did she? She wasn’t sure anymore. “I have to go home and finish up my paper for class,” she said. “And I have to get up early. It’s a weeknight. But maybe after the Opera.”

  “Maybe I will ask your friend,” he said. “She looks lonely.”

  “Go ahead,” Maggie said. “Ask her.”

  “I am joking,” he said. “Don’t be so angry all the time. You’ve been in Rome for a month. Haven’t you learned to relax? We are not so serious. It is all fun. Let go sometimes. You will be happier.”

  She had let go. She’d let go of Weston. But she wasn’t happier.

  When she got home, she called Weston. She couldn’t help herself. This time, Kristina didn’t make fun of her, because she had gone outside to talk to Armani at the same time. Maybe when it came to certain things, they weren’t so different after all.

  “Hello,” Weston said, his voice so flat it felt like a slap across the face.

  She tried to catch her breath before answering. “Hi.”

  Silence. There had never been silence before, not like this. If they called each other, it was to talk. It was because one of them wanted to say something. They’d never done the awkward call for the sake of calling. They were too practical for that.

  He sighed.

  This time, it didn’t irritate her. It made her feel stupid and desperate.

  “Don’t hang up,” she said.

  “What do you need?”

  “I just needed to talk to you.”

  “What for?”

  “I don’t know, okay? I just did.”

  Sigh.

  “I miss you,” she said in a tiny voice.

  “Don’t you have a boyfriend for that?” He didn’t sound mean or even bitter. Just resigned. Like he was done.

  “No,” she said. “I mean, I was seeing someone, but only because…I don’t know. I didn’t even like him that much.”

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better?” He sounded incredulous.

  “Yes?”

  “Well, it doesn’t. It makes me think you didn’t think much of us if you’d break it off to go out with some guy you don’t even like.”

  “It’s not like that,” she protested. And then she was crying. Again.

  “I don’t know how else it could be,” Weston said. “All I have to go on is what you’ve told me, and it’s not much.”

  She wiped her nose with a tissue before balling it up and tossing it in the trash can. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I got caught up in Kristina’s excitement about being here, and she’d just broken up with Alex, and she kept saying I should date someone else because it would be my last chance before we got married.”

  “You’re blaming Kristina for this?”

  “Let me finish.” She took a deep breath, then let out a shaky laugh. “I guess I can say it now, because it doesn’t matter, because we’re not getting married.”

  He didn’t argue, and a pain pulled tight in her chest. She clutched the locket in her fist and pressed it to her heart. “I guess I got tired of waiting,” she admitted at last.

  People always said that confession made you feel better, lighter. But no relief came with this confession.

  “Waiting for what?” Weston asked. “You keep saying that. I don’t know what you’re waiting for. We were living our lives. Together. Just like we always planned. Doing what we wanted to do. You’re in Rome, for God’s sake, Maggie. What more can you be waiting for?”

  “For you to ask me to marry you,” she burst out. “Why couldn’t you have asked before I left?”

  “I didn’t think I had anything to worry about,” he said, his voice taking on that snippety tone. “And the fact that I did shows me that you weren’t ready for that, anyway.”

  “No, it doesn’t,” she said. “If you’d asked, if we’d been engaged, this never would have happened.”

  “That’s an excuse,” he snapped. “This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t let it.”

  “Because I was mad at you,” she blurted out. “Because I was sick of waiting. Because I started thinking it would never happen, and I’d wait forever for nothing.”

  “Nothing. So that’s what it was to you? If you can’t have what you want, when you want, then everything we had was nothing?”

  “That’s not what I meant,” she said, tears starting again. “I loved you, Weston. I still love you. But I want to get married. I can’t wait forever.”

  “I would have waited forever for you.”

  “I wouldn’t have made you.”

  He was silent for a minute. Finally he said, “I thought we made these decisions together. If you wanted something different than I did, you should have said something. We could have talked about it and worked it out.”

  “How could I tell you that? What was I supposed to do—get down on one knee and ask you to marry me?”

  “That would have been better than cheating on me.”

  “I didn’t cheat.”

  “Maybe not technically,” he said quietly. “But you broke something we had together. It doesn’t matter if you did it before or after you told me. You still did it.”

  “I know.” She sniffed again and swiped at her eyes. “Is this just it? It’s over? You’re really done?”

  “I didn’t make this decision, Maggie.”

  “You’re making it now.”

  Silence.

  Maggie crumpled another tissue and hurled it into the wastebasket.

  He spoke so quietly she could hardly hear him. “I guess I am.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  When Enzo invited Maggie over on Wednesday, she went, though she couldn’t muster even a little excitement that he’d called. She couldn’t even feign interest during his feeble attempts at foreplay, but he didn’t seem to mind—or even notice—as he went about his usual routine for his usual two minutes. Only afterwards, when he’d gotten himself a beer from the kitchen, did he say, “You seem different. Quieter. Are you thinking about leaving?”

  “I guess.”

  “Are you very sad?” he asked, joining her on the couch. “Will you miss me?”

  “Sure.”

  He squeezed her knee. His hand was damp and cold from the condensation forming on his beer can. The apartment was hot even with all the windows open. They could hear the city below, the traffic noise that never quieted, even at night.

  She wished that she could stay forever. Not because she was particularly interested in continuing things with Enzo—even the thrill of someone new could no longer conceal all his shortcomings—but
because she didn’t want to go home and face the consequences of what she’d done while in Rome. She hadn’t just had a fling. She’d broken Weston’s heart. She couldn’t undo that. Until she went home, though, it remained a half a world away, still somewhat unreal. As soon as she saw him, her life would become real again. And everything she’d done while in her dream of Rome would become real, too.

  “I’ll miss you, too,” Enzo said, stroking her thigh. “We had fun, didn’t we?”

  “Yeah,” she said dully.

  “I wish you could stay forever,” he said, slurping his beer.

  Forever. The word still made her ache inside. She still wanted it so much.

  Maybe it didn’t matter that he had a little bit of a gut, that he was rude and stinky, that his lips were too big and his eyes too small, that he might be getting a receding hairline, or if she never had an orgasm with him. She probably didn’t deserve to have one, anyway. Maybe the problem wasn’t that he didn’t care enough to make it last, but that she knew she didn’t deserve it, so her body refused to give her one. But what did that matter if he wanted her forever? It was a small price to pay.

  “You know,” she said slowly, turning to face him on the couch. “Kristina and Armani made up.”

  “I heard that.”

  “She hasn’t told him, so you can’t say anything, but…she’s thinking about staying.”

  “Oh yes?” He took another swig of beer, but he didn’t seem to be listening.

  “For another month at least. Maybe the rest of the summer.”

  “Do you want a beer?” he asked, standing and heading for the refrigerator again. “It’s so hot, it’s the only way to stay cool.” Before she could answer, he was carrying two beers back to the couch.

  “So…what do you think?” she asked, taking the beer from him.

  “About what?”

  “About me staying.”

  “I thought you said Kristina was staying, not you.”

  “Well…” She shrugged both shoulders up towards her ears, biting her lip to keep from smiling. “What if I stayed, too?”