Halfway to You(53)

I prickled, craning my neck to study his expression, to see if he was kidding. He was staring ahead at the piazza we were approaching. Pigeons fluttered around as market vendors packed away their goods for the day.

“I have cares,” I said.

“Of course,” Todd said. “I just mean, it must be nice not to work. To simply enjoy Rome all the time.”

“I work . . .”

Todd unhooked his finger from my belt and glanced down at me. “Oh, I didn’t mean to make it sound like your writing isn’t work—”

“You make it sound like I’m here lollygagging my life away.” I didn’t want to argue, but I didn’t want Todd to think of me as a carefree rich girl, either. That stung.

“Aren’t you?” When he saw me frown, he added quickly, “I’m not trying to offend you, I’m just saying it must be nice.”

“I’m grateful for what I have here, Todd, but it’s not all cake and roses. I have expectations from Keith and my publisher. I tutor the neighborhood in English. I have a full life. I—”

“Whoa, hey,” Todd said, patting the air. “Never mind, okay?”

“No, I want to understand your opinion of me,” I pressed. “You think I’m entitled?”

He stopped and turned to me, his mouth twisted up in hesitation. “I think you’re privileged,” he said carefully. “You have to admit that the payout from your father was—”

“I’m incredibly lucky,” I cut in. His words were thorny on my heart. “But I’m not an airhead trust fund baby. You know my past. Don’t insinuate that I don’t recognize and appreciate what I have, what I’ve accomplished.”

“Ann,” Todd said, touching my arm. His fingers were firm and warm—soothing. “I think you’re the most amazing woman in the world. The things you’ve overcome, the things you’ve achieved . . . you’re strong, talented, courageous. I guess I’m just saying I’m jealous of this.” He swept a hand toward the beauty of the city, a spotlight of sun on the street ahead of us. “I wish I could travel more. Maybe go back to school. Do something bigger with my life. But I have the bookstore—my parents’ dream, their legacy—and I’m limited by that. I’m envious of the freedom you have.” Cautiously, he added, “And I hope you don’t waste this gift simply floating along.”

We stared at each other for a beat.

I reached into my purse and pulled out a cigarette. After a long inhale, I whispered, “Okay.” His words were sinking in through my pores, making me reevaluate these past few years. What had I done with my money, beyond traveling and squirreling it away? Had I enjoyed my time, or had I wasted it?

“I’m sorry.” Todd kissed my head again. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, this was meant to be a nice day, and I said the wrong thing.”

“It’s fine,” I repeated.

“It’s not fine. You should live your life how you want—I shouldn’t criticize that.” He nudged me with his shoulder. “Look at us, our first fight.”

I sighed a weak laugh. “Yeah.”

“We shouldn’t argue on a day like today. Forget what I said, all right?”

I nodded, but I couldn’t simply forget what he had said. His words bothered me because they struck a chord; they rang true. Though it rattled my pride, Todd was right: I should do something meaningful with my time and wealth. How could I give back? “I’m just glad you care enough to have an opinion,” I said.

“Of course I do.” He wrapped his arm around me once more. “Come. Where is this gelato place?”

“Oh.” I looked around. “We passed it.” I grasped his hand and led him down a side street, backtracking.

After ordering, we carried our cups to the piazza and sat on a stoop, warming to each other again. Pretty soon, we were sharing bites and kissing the sweetness off each other’s lips.

I thought about the last time we had gotten gelato together, six years ago in Venice. How different today was by comparison, full of love and surprise and depth. Full of care and real conversations. When I said as much, Todd hugged me close.

“I was an idiot back then,” he said.

“You were,” I agreed.

“Maybe I still am.”

“Maybe,” I said, and he laughed.

As we meandered home, we dipped into antique shops and leather-goods stores. It was sprinkling rain when we reached the Ponte Sisto, and we jogged the rest of the way to my apartment, laughing as we went.

For dinner, we snacked on prosciutto e melone and sipped wine. We chatted until the world outside was inky black and the lights inside glowed liquid gold. I basked in the warmth, blushing under Todd’s steadfast gaze. That night, the city didn’t exist beyond us.

When we turned out the lights, Todd guided me toward the bed. His mouth was wine sweet, and his hands splayed over my skin, firm and sure. We tasted and lingered and took all the time in the world, because that night, it felt as though the world was finally ours.





MAGGIE


The answers Jane sought were demons in a dark room. Perhaps it was better to leave the lights off. Perhaps it was better to lock the door behind her.