“Are you looking forward to Venice today?” he asked her, as they exited the lobby and began their gentle amble along the cobblestone streets in the direction of the train station.

She nodded. “I have a lot of work to do, though,” she said. “I may need to use the train journey for writing.”

“Of course,” Cristiano replied, an air of hesitation in his tone. “Whatever you need.”

They fell into silence. It was another beautiful sunshiny day in Rome, and the city looked sun-drenched and stunning. Keira was sad to say goodbye to Rome, not just because of how incredible it was as a place but because of the sense of loss she had felt here, the loss of her muse, her giddy sense of romance and inspiration.

They reached the station and Cristiano took control over finding the platform and train. Keira was relieved that her days of negotiating busy foreign stations were behind her, but she didn’t like to think of Cristiano as just her guide. They had become so much more, even if nothing had happened between them. But now she had put a wall up between them, demoting him from potential suitor to someone there to serve her needs.

“You are quiet today,” Cristiano said as he stowed Keira’s bag away for her and took a seat beside her on the train.

Keira felt a sense of guilt and shame. It was unfair for her to blow so hot then immediately so cold. Cristiano clearly had no idea what was going on with her, because he seemed bewildered.

“I’m sorry,” Keira replied, simply. “I’m just busy. I have a lot to catch up on, and we didn’t get the time to conduct any interviews yesterday.” She thought of Elliot’s request for more romance. “My boss wants more from me, so I’m just feeling a little stressed.”

“Of course,” Cristiano said, as agreeable and calm as ever. “May I read what you wrote of Capri?”

Keira paused, hesitant. “I’d prefer it if you didn’t,” she said, recalling the dreaming lovesick tone that the whole passage was seeped in. If she’d done her job correctly, Cristiano would be able to read between the lines—as she hoped the eventual readers of the piece would also do—and know that she was falling for more than just Italy. The idea of his eyes scanning over those words now made her feel vulnerable, naked, and exposed. She wanted to protect that silly, foolish version of herself, the one that had known no better. “It’s too rough of a draft,” she added. “I hope you understand.”

“I do,” he replied, simply, but Keira could hear the tone of rejection in his voice.

“There may be some people willing to be interviewed on the train,” Cristiano suggested.

“I’m not sure if that’s a good idea,” Keira replied, recalling the horrible experience in Naples with the couple getting a divorce. She’d learned her lesson the hard way about making assumptions about people!

But Cristiano looked crestfallen at yet another rejection from her, and Keira felt bad. She relented.