Page 232 of My Italian Love Affair

"Listen," Priya says, sobering slightly. "Jokes aside, you've got it all here. A job most people would kill for. A gorgeous city. A hot Italian boyfriend who’s apparently obsessed with you. What exactly is stopping you?"

"He’s not my boyfriend,” I tell her. “And my plan was always to go home.”

Priya gives me a look.

"Plans change. The only thing waiting for you in London is overpriced coffee and a shitty commute on the Northern line."

I bite my lip. "I guess."

"Youguess?" She groans dramatically. "Daphne. It’sRome. You’re literally living in a Pinterest board. Say yes, stop overthinking, and live your best life."

Live in the moment.

The exact thing Matteo keeps saying to me.

"Okay," I say softly. "Okay. I’ll think about it."

"Good," Priya beams. "And while you think about it, go try on those clothes you bought this weekend and send me pictures.Especiallythe dress you said made Matteo speechless."

"He wasn'tspeechless. He just…" I trail off when Priya gives me a knowing look. "Fine. He was quiet for several seconds, which is basically a Matteo version of speechless."

"Exactly. So go model it for me. And then say yes to the job, because you'd be insane not to."

"Yeah," I whisper as we end the call. "Insane."

I drop the phone beside me and lean back into the sofa.

The logical part of me knows Priya's right.

But the emotional part of me can’t help wondering whether staying in Rome is the right move, or whether I’m just getting swept up in everything around me -

Matteo included.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

Either way, I need to decide.

And soon.

Chapter Fifty-Six

Daphne

The train to Milan hums beneath me as I stare at the passing countryside, the rhythmic clatter of the wheels a steady backdrop to my spiraling thoughts.

Yesterday, while Matteo and the Roma squad were already settled in the city for their final preparations, I'd been stuck in Rome, piecing together a match preview from afar. I'd spent hours glued to livestreams, scrolling through clips posted by other outlets and compiling statistics from the league database.

It wasn’t ideal. I hate relying on secondhand footage when I could have been there myself - but The Tribune had left it until the last minute to book my travel, and I wasn’t exactly in a position to argue when I wasn’t paying for my own tickets.

Still, now that I'mfinallyhere, racing toward the city and the biggest game of the year, the excitement bubbles up, pushing aside the frustration.

Roma. The league final. The potential for their third consecutive championship win.

And I get to cover it all firsthand.

My phone buzzes beside me, and I glance down to seeMatteo’s name.

You better be on that train. I'm not playing this match without you.

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