Practice Makes Perfect (When in Rome, #2)

“They’ll be hurt, Mabel. My family loves me so much that to find out I’ve been lying to them all these years—”

“Exactly, honey. They love you so much. Honesty is a gift, Annie. And if you really love them, too, you’ll be honest with them about who you are. And as for William…” Hearing his name mentioned suddenly in this conversation has me nearly jumping in my seat. “Don’t give up on him.”

“But Mabel…”

“Don’t ‘but Mabel’ me…if you love that boy, don’t give up on him, Annie. He needs someone to fight for him, like you’ve needed someone to fight for you. And I’m not saying it’s going to look conventional, or anything like you’ve always pictured, or even anything like what your parents had…” She smiles and it’s a smile full of memories. “But maybe it’ll be something even better.”

“Or maybe it’ll crash and burn and hurt.”

“Or maybe that.”

I laugh until we both grow somber again. “What would my mom have said?”

“Hmm,” Mabel says, pursing her lips and squinting her eyes. “Charlotte was all about living in the moment. I don’t remember her ever thinking too far in the future about stuff—and sometimes that got her into a lot of trouble.” Mabel smiles fondly, and I suddenly grieve that I haven’t tried to talk to her about my parents sooner. “Your grandma used to come to me complaining about her wild girl all the time—but there was always a twinkle in your grandma’s eyes like she couldn’t help but be proud of her strong-willed daughter. So I don’t know what she would’ve said exactly, but I have a feeling it would have been something along the lines of following your heart or your gut, whatever the hell you want to call it.”

I doubt Mabel knows just how much I’m going to cling to those words.

“While I’m not your mama or your grandma, but someone who’s lived a long time and loved deeper than I could ever describe to you, I’d say that I regret the things I never said way more than the things I have said. If you love him—be honest. With yourself and with him. And then take it from there. Don’t deny yourself anymore, Annie.”

I look at Mabel with a watery smile. “I love you, Mabel.”

She waves me off like she doesn’t need frilly words like that, but I see the way her eyes mist over as she looks away. “Love you, too, Annie-bananie.”





CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE


    Will


I’m on surveillance duty today. I don’t normally do this job because it’s the bane of my existence, but the guy who usually sits in here during the day and watches the cameras around Amelia’s property called me in between bouts of vomiting this morning and needed me to cover for him.

This is the only part of this job that I hate—sedentary, actionless watching. Not going to lie, it feels pointless. My time as Amelia’s bodyguard here in Rome has been very uneventful. Which is amazing for her—boring for me. The threat to her out here has been pretty much nonexistent. Honestly, this town does such a great job keeping watch over her all on their own. I’m not even sure she needs a bodyguard here. If anyone catches wind of paparazzi or suspicious people resembling fans in the town, the phones start ringing. One by one residents trickle through the town square until everyone is alerted, and Amelia is safely taken out the back entrance to her truck and driven home.

Which is why I’m not needed. It would have been hard for me to leave knowing Amelia was in real danger, but the only danger to her right now is stubbing her toe on the front stoop of her house. Time to move on. It’s going to be so great to keep busy and explore new places again. To not have to deal with Mabel’s nightly chamomile tea checks. Or Phil’s constant badgering about whatever sale he’s running. Or this meddling town trying to petition Annie and me apart. Or the constant temptation to take Annie in my arms and make love to her with promises and plans. It’s all too much. I’ve decided Ethan was right, and eventually I’d like roots and stability, but I’ll catch it on the next round with someone I don’t love as much as Annie. I’m not ready yet. I can’t do it.

To kill the time, I do rotations of push-ups and sit-ups for a while. After that, and when my leg starts bouncing again, I set up my laptop in front of the security screens and open the web browser. I don’t even know why, but before I realize it, I’m typing in the local community college. It’s been buzzing around my head like an annoying fly ever since Annie asked me if I regret not going to school.

As I scroll through the website, I’m bombarded with pictures of happy students eating together at an outside table, studying together in a library, diligently taking notes in class wearing—you guessed it—big ole smiles. None of that looks appealing. But as I scroll down farther, I see a section listing their featured programs, and I can’t help but wonder what I would do if I wasn’t a bodyguard. In high school I had plans for becoming an engineer, but I don’t think that was ever really my dream. It was just the most important-sounding career I could think of to impress my parents.

I did enjoy math, though. A lot. Still do.

My cursor hovers over Education in the list of programs, and I picture myself standing in front of a group of students, pointing to my name on the whiteboard. And then Annie steps through the classroom door with an apologetic smile and hands me the coffee thermos I left on the counter that morning.

I immediately slam the laptop shut.

“What the hell are you doing?” I mutter to myself as I run my hands through my hair.

Is this going to be how it is from now on? Am I going to constantly be thinking of Annie? What color overalls she’s wearing that day? What she’s been up to? Is she dating anyone? Is he going to be able to give her everything I can’t? Will they have a family? Babies? Damn, he’s going to sleep with Annie. He’s going to hold her and touch her and…great, now I’m just pissed.

I’m irrationally angry toward a dude who doesn’t even exist yet. I just need to text her. One text to see how she’s doing, and then that will put my mind at ease.

But when I get out my phone, a perimeter breech notification pops up on one of my screens. Amelia is not expecting anyone because she decided to spend the day in the studio. My body immediately goes on alert as my eyes scan the monitor. Shit. Some dude wearing a T-shirt with Amelia’s face blown up to maximum size has climbed the gate and is currently running up her driveway holding a box. So much for uneventful.

I jump from my chair and it topples over behind me. In two seconds flat, I’m out the door and running at full speed behind him. “Stop!” I yell, knowing he’s not going to. Obsessive fans like this never do.

“I’m not going to hurt her,” he yells over his shoulder, tucking the box under his arm like he’s carrying a game-winning football to the end zone.

“Great, then stop where you are and we can talk!”

“Not until she sees what I have for her in this box.”

Please don’t be something nasty.

He doubles down on his sprint, but he’s not fast enough. I catch up to him quicker than he was anticipating, and slam him to the ground.





CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR


    Annie


My sisters are finally home from their trip, and tonight is Amelia’s bachelorette party at our house. She didn’t want to go out and party—surprise, surprise—she wanted to stay in and watch an Audrey Hepburn movie. We still made her wear a sash and a veil, and we hung spicy lingerie all over the room. Oh, and we’re all wearing penis necklaces. So that’s fun.

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