Keira read over her words, feeling more lackluster about them than even yesterday. She’d lost her muse, her inspiration, and it was showing in her writing. And she was still holding back, still too wary to really let herself be present in the piece. She was disappointing herself.

Worse, the museum was packed with happy couples, laughing with one another, gazing adoringly into each other’s eyes.

It was just too painful for Keira to sit here with them all streaming past her, so she snapped her notebook shut with a huff and left the museum, ambling this time down the shopping streets.

She wandered into the leather market, walking past all the stalls filled with brightly colored leather goods. There was everything from hats, boots, and bags, to jackets, belts, and wallets, in every conceivable color. The smell of fresh leather filled her nostrils as she wandered aimlessly. It was by all accounts a wonderful market filled with beautiful designed and crafted items. Had she been in a happier place she’d have adored walking the stalls, purchasing some beautiful leather goods. But she was too sad and she didn’t have much money on her, just a few crumpled notes that had survived the dunk in the canal. She wanted to keep what little money she had left for emergencies. Besides, if she was going to buy anything, it ought to be a pair of sandals to replace Bryn’s now lost ones.

It was very busy in Florence. The square was decorated with thousands upon thousands of white chrysanthemums, the flower of mourning in Italy. It was stunningly beautiful, like a blanket of snow, though it was tinged with melancholy.

Keira found herself desperate for some solitude, some space from the crowds and couples. So she took a detour off the beaten path and spent the day ambling through all the pretty parks and hillside walking routes that weren’t as well advertised to tourists.

The space helped her get her thoughts aligned, of Cristiano—who had continued to call her and leave voicemails she ignored—and of Shane—who had sent one more text message asking why she hadn’t replied before giving up. Everything was such a mess and Keira didn’t know what to do with herself. It seemed impossible to her to carry on with her work. She wasn’t strong enough to be the Romance Guru, to bare her soul for all her readers. She let herself fall too hard, got hurt too easily. Her heart was as soft as a peach, and bruised as readily as one. She was too guarded to let the whole world see her weaknesses and failures.

As the sun began to set, turning the sky orange and pink above her, Keira finally made her decision. It was over.

She paused to get her phone from her purse. It was then that she discovered where she’d wandered during her ruminations.

She was standing on Florence’s Bridge of Gold, the place where couples congregated to put a padlock on the bridge in a symbol of their everlasting love, to buy rings from the myriad of jewelry stores located there and propose to their beloved.