“I’m blocked,” I tell her, just blurt it out. “Like, not in the ‘ha ha, every writer gets blocked now and then’ way I told Sophie. I mean, seriously blocked. I haven’t written anything worthwhile in weeks.” I catch myself and close my eyes as I amend my words. “Months. I’ve been blocked for months. I owe my publisher a new novel by mid-fall, and I can barely write my own name.” I blow out a forceful breath and take a slug of my water, feeling a surprising sense of relief at having told somebody. I don’t think I understood just how much it’s been eating me up inside.
“Is that why you’re here?” Serena asks. Her voice is soft and her eyes are kind. I don’t want her sympathy, I want her to take a whip and make me go back to my desk and write. But the sympathy also feels nice. I won’t be getting it from Scott, that’s for sure. Not that I blame him.
I nod. “Yeah. My agent is also a good friend, and he thought sending me to one of the most romantic cities in the world would…” I grimace. “Unstick me.”
“It hasn’t?”
“Not so far.”
“Maybe you haven’t seen enough,” Serena says, leaning forward on the table again. “Rome is filled with inspiration.Filled. Overflowing. The architecture, the art, the history, thefood. Maybe you need to explore more of it.”
“I mean, you’re not wrong. I haven’t seen a ton.” I think about the business card on my desk. “Marina did offer to give me a tour.”
“She knows this city like the back of her hand. You should take her up on it. Speaking of inspiration…” She grins at me over the rim of her glass, then grabs a grape and pops it into her mouth, still grinning as she chews.
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing. Just that you two seemed to really…” Serena clears her throat. “Hit it off.”
I narrow my eyes at her and search her face. “And what doesthatmean?”
A snort. “Honey, if you’re not picking up what I’m laying down, I’m afraid I can’t help you.” She chuckles and adds, “Sophie taught me that.”
“I mean, Marina’s definitely cute and all, but she’s super young and I’m not here to hook up and—” I’m interrupted by Serena opening and closing her hand like a mouth.
“Blah, blah, blah. You’re here. She’s here. You’re obviously attracted to each other. Have her show you the sights. Why not? You already know she’s fun. I’ve told you she’s knowledgeable. And you might find some inspiration to…unstick you, as you said. You know? Where’s the harm?” She sits back in her chair, clearly satisfied with her argument, and I have to admit, it’s a good one.
“I mean, she did offer,” I say softly to my plate.
“She did. I’d take her up on it if I were you.” Serena is so matter-of-fact that I almost laugh. “She was flirting with you like crazy during the food tour.”
I look up at her, surprised.
“Oh, honey.” She smiles and reaches across the table to patmy hand as she shakes her head. “Please tell me you are notthatblind.”
I make a face because sometimes, yeah, I am that blind.
Hi there! I think I’d like to take you up on that offer of a guided tour…
I sit up on the rooftop terrace of my hotel and stare at my phone. Then I set it down without sending the text and pick up my wine glass. And then I sigh like a woman with the weight of the whole goddamn world on her shoulders, which makes me roll my eyes at myself because what is my problem, anyway? Jesus.
And I pick up the phone again.
Reggie is lying next to me on the outdoor couch, and he lifts his head to give me a look that says, “Seriously? What are you doing?”
I set the phone down, text unsent.
Reggie groans and lowers his head, clearly disgusted with me.
I am officially ridiculous. Even my dog thinks so.
More sighing and more wine, and I gaze out at this incredible view that I’m shocked isn’t taken advantage of more by the guests of this hotel. I guess maybe it’s similar to living someplace like Denver, where the view of the mountains on the horizon is just normal, and you get so used to it after a while that you barely notice. This hotel isn’t tall. I’m in their penthouse on the top floor, and that’s only five stories up, but I can see the tops of so many buildings. Rooftop gardens and living spaces are prominent. There’s a little party of some sort going on to my left about four buildings over. I can hear the music faintly, see themingling bodies. And then church bells begin, and when I say they ring through the air like it’s a Hallmark Christmas movie, I am not exaggerating. They’re not obnoxiously loud, but they’re clear. Melodic chimes that must echo through the city. And as I’m thinking that, another set of church bells begins to chime from behind me. Soon, there are at least four different sets of bells singing to Rome. A glance at my watch tells me it’s six o’clock. I sit and sip and listen. Even Reggie is paying attention now.
It’s beautiful. An almost religious experience, which I’m sure is the point.
When they finally end, I pick the phone back up. I don’t know why I’m hesitant. Marina offered. It’s not like I’m asking her a favor, right? She offered. And Serena’s right: I clearly need something to help me with inspiration, or Scott’s gonna have my head. The last thing I need is for my publisher to request I return their advance. It’s hard to come back fromhad to give back her advance ’cause she didn’t deliver.Finding another publisher after that—because I’d likely have to—would be a challenge, to say the least.
“That’s how I’ll look at this, right, Reg?” When my dog meets my gaze, I go on. “As research. Work.” He stares at me for a good five seconds before putting his head down and snuffling out a breath that makes me think he’s just done with my crap. “Fine,” I say, then snatch up my phone and hit send on the text before I can think about it any more. I drop it face down on the couch and take a slug of my wine.
