God, I can be such a self-centered bitch.

“But I want you to know, there are no hard feelings between me and Hark. We had a really amicable breakup. It was the wrong time, not the wrong people. Honestly, I still really like him. And vice versa.”

My heart lurches. Then falls silent. I wonder if she knows about Tamryn. Then I wonder why it’s my business.

“I’m sorry I seemed out of sorts, Avery.” I swallow. Smile. “I…Don’t take this personally, but I was looking forward to exploring the city alone. I enjoy that kind of stuff. Then Conor thought it would be too dangerous, and decided to come along.” Technically, it’s not a lie.

Maybe that’s why she buys it so easily. She gives me a knowing look, like we’re sharing a secret. “I get it. I used to do lots of solo traveling. It’s such a unique experience.”

I nod.

“And that’s so dumb of him. I mean, you’ve been living abroad.”

“Right?”

“Tell you what: If you want to sneak away, I’ll come up with some excuse, or say you went back home. Or I can distract him.”

“Are you going to flash him?”

“What other diversion methods are there?”

I laugh through the lump in my throat, and glance at the other end of the orchestra, where Conor looks unusually tiny and insignificant—a feat for someone who makes any room feel smaller. It’s because of the stage, and the view behind him. The blues and the greens. The Ionian shoreline with its hilly coastal settlement. And then, in the backdrop of it all, Mount Etna.

I think about the men and women who built this theater. The Greeks who sailed all the way over here and found the place too beautiful to leave, the Romans who joined them, the Arabs and the Normans and the House of Bourbon. The world is so big, and we are just clumps of atoms. What’s a tiny little bit of heartbreak, when faced with the vastness of mankind? Does it matter that a love is unrequited, if the universe started with a hot fireball and will end the same way?

The one thing I can control is being kind to those who are kind to me. And it sounds like Avery wouldn’t mind some time alone with Conor. “That would be great, actually. Is it okay if I slip out after the photo?”

“Absolutely.”

“Here.” I take off the sunglasses. “Could you return these—”

“Hey, you two,” Conor calls.

We both turn to him. Under the glaring, punishing sun, his scowl still makes my heart beat faster.

But my heart, too, is nothing more than a clump of atoms.

“How about you start posing for that picture?”

Avery and I share a smile. I think we might really be best friends now. “Avery?”

“Yeah?”

“If you had to guesstimate, how often would you say Conor Harkness thinks about the Roman Empire?”

She bursts into laughter.