Chapter 25

He finally understood why everyone insisted it was a must-see landmark. It was staggering that a man-made structure could possess such elegance. Even to someone like Dante, who couldn’t tell a masterpiece from a finger painting, the atmosphere here felt distinct.

Yet, that appreciation was fleeting.

Perhaps it was because he wasn’t seeing it bathed in the bright daylight of the movie he’d watched with Rhys. The crowds were thin, just as he’d hoped, and the roar of the rushing water was perfectly clear, but the joy he’d anticipated while planning this trip was entirely absent. The person who would have truly marveled at this sight wasn’t here. What Dante actually wanted to look at wasn’t the historic fountain—it was the expression on Rhys’s face as he admired it.

Stepping closer to the edge, Dante peered into the basin. The floor wasn’t blanketed in coins the way it appeared in travel brochures; they must have cleaned it out recently.

“If we go, we absolutely have to throw coins in.”

Dante reached into his pocket, pulling out the loose change he’d kept since boarding the plane. He had specifically set aside four pennies, accounting for Rhys’s share. Slowly, he separated two of the copper coins and slipped them back into his pocket, leaving two in his palm as he stared down at the emerald water.

“You have to throw two of them.”

Rhys’s enthusiastic voice echoed vividly in his memory. He had shown Dante a video clip, explaining the exact posture required to grant the wish. All Dante could recall now was the image of someone tossing a coin blindly over their shoulder. He wanted to pull up the video to check, but his phone was gone.

Dante hesitated, turning his back to the fountain, then turned around to face the pool once more. Staring blankly at the scattered coins below, he tossed the first penny.

One coin to guarantee a return to Rome.

Ripples fanned out across the surface as the penny cut through the water and settled on the bottom, instantly blending into a sea of currency from across the globe. Picking up the second penny, Dante conjured the memory of Rhys’s radiant smile once more and let it drop from his fingers.

Two coins to ensure your love comes true.

Watching it drift downward, Dante wondered what had been going through Rhys’s mind when he shared that legend. Had Rhys secretly believed that Dante didn’t love him? Had he found it impossible to trust the declarations of love Dante had whispered throughout their four years together? Well, it made sense. How could anyone find sincerity in a man who casually threatened to break up whenever things got difficult?

No matter what Dante’s hidden intentions had been, Rhys couldn’t read his mind unless Dante actually vocalized them.

The reflection of a failed relationship stared back at him from the shifting water—the silhouette of a man standing entirely alone at a romantic landmark, tossing coins meant for two. A stray breeze fractured the image. Dante stood there, silently counting the passing seconds. One, two, three. The numbers ticked away aimlessly as the sky gradually brightened.

Finally, the sun broke through. About thirty minutes had slipped away. No ancient myths manifested, and no magic occurred; instead, the morning brought tourists. The crowd materialized the exact moment daylight took over.

What now?

Dante felt the profound helplessness of a child separated from his parents in a thick crowd. He had nowhere to go—or more accurately, nowhere he wanted to go. Back in New York, a desperate sort of momentum had pushed him onto the plane, but now that his boots were firmly planted on Roman ground, his mind was a total blank.

He had used the non-refundable tickets and hotel bookings as a pragmatic excuse to force himself here, but the real catalyst had been entirely different. Dante had insisted on going through with an anniversary trip post-breakup because, deep in his chest, he harbored a desperate, pathetic hope for reconciliation. Because it felt so impossible, the longing had manifested as a vague, aching wish.

Then, by some miracle, he had run into Rhys on the flight. Dante knew that coincidence alone was an incredible stroke of luck, a massive victory in itself. But the more he looked at Rhys, the greedier he became. He wanted to stretch their time together, even if only by a few minutes. Now that they had parted ways at the terminal, a fresh wave of desperation crashed over him. Rome held absolutely zero appeal without Rhys. Other people might find fulfillment in exploring foreign cities for their own sake, but for Dante, a destination only mattered if he was sharing it with the person he loved.

And he had squandered his single chance to fix things. By passing out on the flight, he had ruined everything. If he had just stayed awake, followed Rhys out, and begged him to at least share the hotel booking, they might be checking in their bags and exploring the city together right now. It was too late. Rhys had undoubtedly booked alternative accommodations hours ago.

…No. Maybe it isn’t too late. If he bought a replacement phone and reached out… would Rhys find it creepy?

Dante had no idea what his email password was and couldn’t recall the hotel address, but Rhys’s ten-digit phone number was permanently etched into his memory. Weighing how Rhys might react, he decided he had nothing left to lose. If he explained that his phone had been stolen, maybe Rhys would take pity on him. He would look incredibly pathetic, sure, but he had already exposed his absolute worst sides to the man; gaining a bit of sympathy was better than being completely ignored.

First step: find a store that sells phones.

Snapping back to reality, Dante tightly gripped his suitcase. He told himself that if he managed to lose his luggage on top of his phone, he’d officially become an international missing person. Holding the handle firmly, he prepared to scan the surrounding area. Fueled by a shred of lingering hope, he began weaving through the gathering tourists. He was mentally reprimanding himself to focus and search for an electronics shop when a voice shattered the morning air.

“Dante Bellini!”

At the furious bark echoing behind him, Dante spun around in sheer confusion. He never could have imagined hearing his own name called out in the middle of Rome, yet there he stood.

“…Rhys?”