I wish I had a better answer to offer. “It’s coming. I’m moving along, but it’s not all the way there yet. Hopefully soon.”
“I still think you should make what you love,” Mira adds. “I would enjoy wearing comfortable lingerie every day. It’d be my romantic little secret with myself.”
“Speaking of secrets,” Marie then says to me, “have you takenun amantesince you’ve been here?”
I glance around and all eyes are once again back on me. “I’m sorry. I don’t know whatun amantemeans.”
“She wants to know if you’ve taken a lover,” Louisa says plainly.
My wineglass splashes a little as I move to set it down on the table. Changing my mind, I bring it on back and take a steeling sip. “No, I haven’t. Noamantefor me.”
“You should,” Marie says. “Italian men are excellent lovers.”
I nod and take another gulp. “I’m sure that they are. It’s just, I came to Italy to work and to learn, not fall in love.”
Marie rolls her eyes. “Why must so many young people live in the extremes?” she asks the group. “Where’s the balance? Rome is a city built on pleasure. Why have none of it or all of it when you can have a nice little portion every day? It’s good for you. It’s healthy.”
“I get what you’re saying,” I tell her through a grin. “And I do agree that health and self-care are very important.”
“And what’s a better form of self-care than taking a lover?”
The group chuckles, and judging by my now almost empty glass, I’m going to be needing a repour.
“Well, I guess I am sort of seeing someone,” I find myself sharing.
That gets the room’s attention, withoohsandaahsabound. Even Josephine’s eyes crack open from her chair.
“How exciting!” Mira says. “Tell us about him.”
I take a steadying breath. “Well, I met him my first day here. He’s a writer. He was born in Rome, but he moved to the States with his mom after his dad passed when he was a kid. She’s back in Italy full-time, but he lives in New York. Louisa nods, prompting me to go on. “We hated each other at first. I thought he was mean and pompous as anything, but the more we talked, the more I saw that there was more there. And now I think he’s pretty great. He seems like he likes me, too.”
“Well, of course he likes you,” Mira says. “Why wouldn’t he?”
“Oh, I can list a multitude of reasons.” This seems to perplex the group, so I elaborate. “I just know the kind of person I am. I seem outgoing, but I’m really guarded. I’m sarcastic and defensive and I’m way behind in my life. I’m just finishing college when most of the people I grew up with are getting married or having kids. I’m sure Matt thinks he likes me, but if we were in the real world, he would ghost me in a second.”
Mira’s eyes go a little big, probably guessing which Matt I’m referring to, and Marie leans in as she takes a sip of her wine. “What do you mean, in the real world?”
“I mean that being here in Rome isn’t reality. We’re in this gorgeous city away from our daily lives and everything seems more electrifying and magical than it really is.”
“Including you?” Louisa asks. My nonanswer is answer enough, and she shakes her head. “You sound like I did when I first got married. When I met my husband, I was mad for him. He was gorgeous and charming and deep down, I thought he was too good for me. Every day I believed that hechoseme and out of the pair of us, I was the lucky one. And the more I thought that way, the more he thought that way, too. Four years later our marriage was over.”
“I’m sorry,” I tell her.
“Don’t be. Because what I learned from him is that love isn’t something that you find or that finds you—love is something you gift yourself.Youdesign it.Youdecide who you are going to love and who will have the privilege of loving you back. Once I understood that, I met the person who I knew brought out the best in me. And Ichoseto love him because of that. Day after day we choose each other, and that’s the kind of love that strengthens you. That stays with you.”
The room falls silent, and we let Louisa’s words sink in for a bit.
“This is a very profound group,” I say after a while. “When I woke up this morning, I did not anticipate tearing up over appetizers.”
“This is Rome,” Louisa says. “It was bound to happen sooner or later.” Everyone chuckles until our hostess hastily claps her hands together. “Now, enough of this serious talk. More wine.”
“More wine!” everyone echoes, our laughter melodically blending with the sounds of our glasses clinking together in a toast.
When I get back to the apartment, my feet lead me to Matt’s door. It’s opened a crack and opens farther when I knock on it with a gentle tap.
“Hey,” he says when he sees me, sliding his chair back from the desk and shutting his laptop. “Perfect time for a break. I was working on an emotional scene, and I could feel my cold, dead heart threatening to beat again for the first time in years, which is obviously unacceptable.”
“That must have been terrifying for you,” I tease.
