Halfway to You(52)

Would I ever get to love him like that again?

He came out of the bathroom buck naked and whistling but halted when he saw me. “You okay, Copper?”

I must’ve had a strange look on my face, because he sat beside me and brushed a strand of hair from my cheek. “Should we not have . . . ?”

“No, that was great. I just . . .” I searched for a trace of darkness in his eyes.

He seemed to know what I meant. “I’ve wanted to be with you since, well, forever.”

“I don’t want you to regret . . .”

“Ann, I love you,” Todd said.

“You—what?”

“I love you.”

“You love me?” I sucked in a quick breath—helium.

“Yes.”

It should’ve been obvious, Maggie. He’d come to Rome, for god’s sake. The ultimate grand gesture. But I’d spent years denying myself this possibility. So when he said it, it just didn’t make sense. “As a friend?”

“No.” He drew me into a kiss. “Not like a friend.”

“Say it again?” I asked.

He met my eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” I squeaked. “Are you sure?”

He laughed. “I’m sure.”

“What changed your mind?”

The corner of his mouth twitched, then pulled into a deeper smile. “Nothing,” he said. “I always loved you. I just got tired of denying it.”

I wanted to ask why he had denied it so long, but grief wasn’t linear. It didn’t have a timeline. So I simply basked in the glow of knowing Todd Langley loved me now. “I’m really glad you’re here,” I said.

“Me too.”

I could’ve stayed in bed with him all day, but he assured me we’d have plenty of time to explore each other later—for the afternoon, he wanted to explore Rome. I acquiesced, because I found it very hard to say no to this new version of Todd, the one that loved Ann.

We started along the river, stopping briefly at a to-go pizza place, where crisp rectangles were folded in half and handed to us in gritty brown paper. After eating, we walked the Ponte Sisto. I’d seen many couples cross the bridge holding hands but had never done so myself, not in all my time in Rome. When I admitted this to Todd, he laced his fingers with mine and squeezed tightly. We took our time, pausing every so often to touch the smooth marble railing and watch the Tiber flowing below us.

I remembered the couples I’d watched through the window at Carmella’s, the locked fingers and dreamy glances. I knew now what I had suspected: something had been missing from my relationships before. Now, all the romance of the world was within my reach.

We visited the Pantheon next, then drank macchiatos at a nearby café. Todd told me funny, blackmail-worthy stories about his and Keith’s shenanigans as best friends. On the table, our hands met, and he stroked my knuckles with his thumb, listening intently to my own travel stories: the time I accidentally ordered two pints of beer for breakfast in Spain, the time I boarded a train to Germany instead of Italy, and the time I inadvertently broke into the ancient Agora of Athens. We laughed and shared a pastry, and everything felt normal even though we hadn’t done this together before.

At Trevi Fountain, we sat on the wall and watched tourists pose for pictures. I hadn’t spent much time at Trevi—I tended to avoid touristy spots—but that day, I was mesmerized by the wild and docile chariot horses and Oceanus’s triumphant stance.

Before we left, Todd insisted we throw coins. The clear pool glittered with thousands of them. The story went that a coin tossed with the right hand over the left shoulder into the fountain would ensure a return to Rome.

“But I live in Rome,” I said, chuckling. “Of course I’ll return—I’m already here.”

“But if you ever leave, you’ll know it won’t be permanent.”

His comment reminded me of the terrible reality of our situation, something I hadn’t considered since he arrived at Carmella’s the night before: that I lived here, and Todd lived in Colorado.

“Come on,” Todd said. “Let’s do the tourist thing.”

I forced the worry from my mind. “All right.”

We sat side by side on the edge of the fountain, and Todd handed me a coin. We counted backward from three, flinging them over our shoulders with a plunk. The coins were an unspoken promise; someday, we’d be here again, together. It gave me hope that Todd and I would last.

We could figure out the distance.

Todd stood and offered his hand. I grasped it, and he pulled me straight into his arms, kissing me in a dramatic dip. I laughed against his mouth as he brought me upright.

“There’s a stellar gelato place nearby,” I said. “Interested?”

“Do they have stracciatella?”

“It would be a travesty if they didn’t.”

Todd pecked my cheek. “Let’s go.”

Hand in hand, we retraced our steps toward the Pantheon. Quick clouds brushed over the sun, dimming the sky intermittently. Light splayed in an odd patchwork across ancient marble and new stone, spotlights that brightened gold and faded into blue gray as we walked.

Beside me, Todd sighed and wrapped an arm around my waist, hooking a finger through the belt loop at my opposite hip. “What a stunning city. It must be nice to just wander around all day, not a care in the world.”