Page 97 of From Rome, With Hate

His mouth tilts with a smirk before he pulls me down, crashing his lips against mine. “I’m so glad you said that…” Slipping his hand between us, he digs into his pocket and pulls out two rings. One a rose gold ring decorated with leaves and tiny diamonds. The other a black ring with chrome engraved feathers. Feathers from a lark.

“Because…” Rome whispers, sliding my wedding ring onto my trembling finger. “It’ll be much easier taking you back home as my wife than as my ex-wife.”

I stifle my laugh by clamping my other hand over my mouth. My wedding ring slides onto my finger as easily as it did the day we got married. Satisfied with the way it shimmers in the sunlight, I take the other ring from Rome’s hand and slide it onto his fourth finger.

“I agree.” I breathe in, rubbing my thumb over the engraving. Then I’m rolling my eyes. “Divorces aresomessy, right?”

“Right.” His grin undeniable.

I melt, and my husband kisses me.

TWENTY-SEVEN

CHARLEIGH

“She’s alive!” I throw my hands in the air and dash across the bar to wrap my best friend into a giant hug.

Julianna’s face is buried in her phone, but she looks up when she hears me squealing as I charge toward her. My cheeks are already sore from how hard I’m smiling. Relief washes over when I wrap my arms tightly around her, squeezing as hard as I possibly can.

“My God, I missed you,” I cry, holding her out at arm’s length.

“I missed you, too.” She giggles, setting her phone down on the bar top. It’s open to a thread of messages.

She quickly closes out of it when she sees me staring at it, shutting off her screen as she takes a sip of her bright green martini.

I touch the ends of her silky hair. “Your hair has grown out.”

“Has it?” Her scowls as she looks down. Then her gaze meets mine, realization dawning on her. “Holy shit, ithasbeen a long time since I’ve seen you.”

“There she is.” I laugh, holding my tiny flower-embroidered clutch in front of me with both hands. “And yes, it’s been entirely too long. Basically since just after my wedding.”

“Where are Selene and London?” She peers over my shoulder at the crowded bar, searching for our other two best friends.

“I couldn’t wait any longer to see you, so they said they’ll be here in a few. Selene takes forever to say goodbye to Luca, and I swear, London is just as bad.”

“It’s an aunt thing.” Julianna shrugs her bare shoulder, giggling. “Totally understandable.” Her gold spaghetti strapped halter top shimmers under the dim lights of the swanky Manhattan bar. Although the lights are muted, Julianna isn’t. She’s simply glowing.

“Didn’t you just come from Holt and Selene’s, too?” she asks me.

“Yep.” I pop the P, my lips sticking from my lip gloss. “You know Asher always jumps at the chance to hang out with Holt and West when we go out. Our girls night out has also turned into guys night out.”

“Right.” Her smile falters as her eyes drop to her phone. She takes another sip of her martini, still side-eyeing it.

I swear I catch a hint of sadness in her bright gaze.

I’ve been friends with Julianna for nearly a decade. She isn’t terribly difficult to read. Usually. But there’s something about her tonight I can’t put my finger on.

After swallowing her drink, she shifts her focus back to me and leans forward in her seat to grab both my hands. “It’s been months since I’ve seen you. I want to hear all about your honeymoon and married life since. How are the flower shops doing? Tell me everything.”

“Are you kidding?” I laugh, finally sliding into the empty seat next to Julianna’s. My stomach rolls through a wave of nausea, but I shove it aside. “I’ve already told you everything. I want to hear all about this mystery client of yours. How was it? Can you please tell me who it is now? I’ve racked my brain trying to figure out whose house you’ve designed. I keep searching social mediaand magazines for celebrities who are renovating their homes, hoping to see your name as the designer. I’ve yet to come across a single tag or mention of you.”

I’m rambling and I realize it’s the nerves.

Julianna’s back straightens as her hands slip away from mine. She rests her arm on the bar and waves me off. Her phone buzzes, and the screen lights up. I barely get a chance to read the name on the message before her hand is covering it, turning it off.

“Shouldn’t we order you a drink before we get into all that?” She twists in her seat and glances over her shoulder for the bartender.

“Oh.” I wave my hand, dismissively. “I’m okay.”