When in Rome (When in Rome, #1)

by Sarah Adams

this is a prime example of why I don’t do phone calls. You never know what you’re going to get on the other end, and it’s almost never a pleasant experience.

I just want someone to play Scrabble with me and get snuggly in a blanket. I never could get him to do that, so

“Have you never loved something just for what it means to you?”

Except now, I watch them by myself because our relationship fractured a long time ago and I don’t think it’ll ever heal.

And this is what my house in Nashville is missing. It’s filled with stuff, not memories.

And our once-a-year epic road trips to the beach where we rented a soggy hotel room with sand in the carpet because we couldn’t afford anything else are still some of my greatest memories.

How can they not know who Audrey Hepburn is? “What?! How have you gone through your whole lives without experiencing Audrey? She is all things grace, and precociousness. Beauty yet oddity.”

“I’m drowning and no one sees me.”

It’s not infatuation. Not even lust. It’s the worst of all the feelings…care. Care is reckless because it doesn’t come with the seat belt that selfishness offers. Care has so much to lose, and almost always ends in heartbreak.

Sometimes a woman is just worn out and needs a break, you know?” The lines on her forehead deepen. “That doesn’t prove that you’re weak or neglectful, it proves to all the women standing by and watching you pave the road to success that it’s okay to say no. It’s okay to shut your door every now and then and put up a sign that says Busy taking care of me today. Piss off.”

“Well, of course you don’t, darlin’. No one loves anything they’re miserably chained to.”

I don’t think I’ve ever had a man articulate his emotions so well to me before. I

And the way she’s looking at me, it’s been a long time since anyone has looked at me like that.

Hangovers hit different after the age of thirty, which is why I never get drunk anymore.

Reality always finds me. I pick up my phone and swipe it open even though I already know what I’ll see.

Because that’s what Merritt and I boiled down to—two people who needed different things and couldn’t find any common ground.

I smile and turn to look at the room. And that’s when I see the shelves and shelves of books. This man does not just read…he’s a book nerd. I feel Noah’s eyes on me as I step up to the wall-to-wall floating bookshelf. It’s a beautiful design. It’s made of exposed wood and black brushed steel. I don’t know if he built it or had someone else install it, but clearly it’s important to him, because it’s very well crafted—which makes it achingly sweet.

the summer, my favorite thing to do was sit at its base, lean my back against it, and listen to music. Sometimes I’d take my guitar out and play, writing songs and soaking in every last drop of sunshine. Nothing bad could touch me under that oak tree with the sun brushing my skin. No place in this world has ever been able to recapture that feeling of absolute soul-cuddling peace.

Over these last few days, I feel parts of me coming alive again. Like when you’ve been sitting on your foot too long and then finally walk around. It’s tingly and uncomfortable at first, but then you shake it back to life and can move normally again.

Wanttttt

He doesn’t even offer advice or throw a pile of shoulds on me. Doesn’t even seem to expect me to come to any conclusion right now. I just get to say what I feel, and if that’s not freedom, I don’t know what is.

“Mainly it’s the loneliness that makes it so hard.

And the thing that’s so weird is I’m rarely ever alone, and yet I can be standing in a room full of hundreds of people that supposedly love me and feel completely isolated.”

It’s dangerous and there’s nothing to do but let it build and carry you wherever it wants.

I fell back on the bed and laughed like you do when joy is just too much to contain.

Instead, I sob. It’s the kind of cry you hold off as long as you can, pretending you don’t see the need for it even though it’s glaring you right in the face. And then one day, your emotions break, and anger dissolves into frustrated tears that won’t quit until your pillow is soaked through. There’s nothing for it—no magical answer or earth-shattering conclusion to be found. All I can do is wrap my arms around my abdomen and let my body rid itself of all this pain until it doesn’t hurt so much.