Page 5 of My Italian Love Affair

She laughs. “I can’t get over the fact that you’re not just jumping for joy at the thought of being in Italy for three months.”

“I mean... it's a beautiful city, with lovely food, culture and history. Of course I’m excited,” I say, my voice lifting as I let myself get swept up in the fantasy of it all. “I’m going to be in Rome, Priya.Rome. The whole thing feels like a ridiculous dream, to be honest. But then...”

I trail off, my eyes narrowing at the screen.

“Then I remember it’s forfootball."

She snorts, almost spilling her tea.

"Pleasedon’t tell me that’s the thing you’re getting stuck on. You’re going to be in Italy - who cares if it’s for football? Just think of all the food, the sunshine - and maybe even some cute,richfootballers…”

"I’ll just have to make sure I don’t accidentally trip over myown feet while pretending to care about goals and tactics,” I laugh, rolling my eyes. "You know, like aprofessional."

Priya shakes her head, looking more amused than sympathetic.

"Besides, you know I’d rather be writing about literally anything else to do with Rome. Fashion, food, tourist tips...anything."

“Right. Because you’resopassionate about the world of reality TV stars,” Priya says, the sarcastic undertone clear in her voice. “Look, you’re going to love it. You’ll get amazing material, and who knows - maybe you’ll even get inspired enough to finish your book.”

“I hope so. I feel like it's been collecting dust for years,” I sigh. “But you’re right. It’ll be good to get out of London for a while. Maybe Italy will breathe some life into me in general.”

Priya raises her cup in a mock salute.

“There it is. And if youreallyhate the football thing, I’m sure you can make it work somehow. It’s a job. You’re getting paid. And Rome’s too beautiful for you to be mopey and miserable.”

“I’ll try my best. I mean, there’s far worse places to be stuck for three months, right?”

“Oh, absolutely. And at least your parents will be distracted on their cruise, so you know they won’t be calling you every five minutes to ask about your career progression.”

I laugh at that.

She has a very valid point: my parents are currently on a Caribbean cruise and subsequently blissfully out of reach for the next couple of weeks, at least.

They’d sent me a text this morning wishing me luck, but itwas the usual detached enthusiasm that comes from people who don’t really understand what I do.

“They're probably just happy to know I’ll be taking a break from writing about D-list celebrities.”

“Well, at least they’re not going to be badgering you. This is your moment, Daphne! Oh, and I’m telling you right now - I want regular updates.Detailedregular updates. You better keep sending me photos of all the food, the wineandthemen.”

“Fine. You’re only getting updates on food and wine, though. The rest... we'll see.”

“Deal,” she beams. “I guess I should probably let you go and get some sleep before the big day. Just remember that you’vesogot this. Rome is yours.”

“I’ll try not to mess it up,” I sigh. “Talk to you soon?”

“Duh. Don’t even think aboutnotcalling me. I’ll hunt you down.”

We hang up, and I take one last look around my tiny London apartment, letting out a deep breath.

This could be it.

The escape from the endless gossip columns. From the dead-end assignments. From those ridiculous reality TV scandals that have been sucking the life out of me.

And who knows? Maybe I’ll even finish my novel.

Chapter Three

Daphne

---