“I can tell. I wish we could have stayed a bit longer at the Forum today. I know the kids were tired, but I barely had a chance to see the Lapis Niger that marks Romulus’ tomb.”
“His tomb?” Lorenzo shakes his head. “No. I think it marks the spot where he was murdered by the senate, not his actual tomb. Though scholars go back and forth on it.”
Her eyes light up. “I’d forgotten that theory. You’re right.”
They shift topics and begin a more in-depth discussion of the Curia Julia, which was the original seat of the Roman senate and a building we saw today. Or at least I think we saw it today. There are a lot of ruins at the Forum. In the building—which is still in good shape today—the consuls and tribunes made decisions about running the republic and the empire. Lorenzo tells her the building underwent extensive reconstruction efforts in the 1930s.
“Did they also work on the basilica beside it?” she asks.
Noah shifts in his seat, looking out into the crowd for a waiter.
It’s clear Lorenzo and Gabriella have a lot in common with their mutual love of history. It’s not a boring subject to discuss or anything, but I’m concerned they seem to have forgotten about our main objective here: food.
Right now, I have the patience of a toddler and the hunger of a lion.
“You know what, guys? Why don’t I just go to the bar and order? It’ll be faster, I bet.”
I’m already on the move, scooting out of the booth and practically falling into Noah’s lap, and then he stands and, in an interesting turn of events, volunteers to come with me.
I don’t bother arguing with him in front of Lorenzo and Gabriella. They wouldn’t understand.
We start to head for the bar.
“Are you coming because you’re worried I’ll poison your food? No need. I still respect the No Tampering with Food truce we struck after the ill-fated School Bake Sale Incident of 2019. And besides, this dress doesn’t have any pockets for Ex-Lax tablets.”
I pat my hips for emphasis.
His gaze immediately sweeps down to me as if he was waiting for another excuse to take a look at me in my dress. Either the low light in the bar is playing tricks on me or his eyes really are that heated.
Once he’s aware I’ve caught him staring, he clears his throat and looks toward our destination. “At this point, I don’t care if my food is poisoned or not. I’m starving.”
The crowd closes in around the bar. Thirsty customers shout to be noticed among the throngs of people. Noah edges in beside me, lifting his hand as if to guide me and keep me close, but then he squeezes his fist and lets it fall. I feel oddly…cheated.
“Have you seen a menu floating around?” I ask him. “I’m not even sure they serve food here.”
“I thought I saw one at a table we just passed.”
“What?!” I ask, unable to hear him now that the crowd has converged on us.
He leans in close, his mouth a hair’s breadth away from my ear. “I said—”
Someone bumps into Noah and he stumbles forward, knocking into me with enough force that I’m about to land flat on my ass. Fortunately, he reaches out and grabs ahold of me, yanking me back to standing with easy deftness. My chest is against his chest. We’re in a dirty dancing pose with my thigh sandwiched between his. HELLO Noah’s rock-hard leg. Hello Noah’s other…anatomy.
“Jesus. Sorry,” he says, stepping back to right himself.
“Are you apologizing to Jesus or me?”
He inhales a deep breath then shakes his head like he doesn’t know what to do with me.
“Just go that way, will you? And I’m going to put my hand on your arm because I’m scared someone will try to trample you, but you don’t need to look so disgusted about it.”
“It’s only me trying to get used to it. It’s a little intimidating. Your hand could circle my arm twice. There. How does my face look now?”
“Constipated.”
I suppress the urge to sock him in the arm.
“Strange you’re worried about someone trampling me,” I say, rising up so I can speak close to his ear. “I would have thought that kind of thing would fill you with glee. You probably love that wildebeest scene in The Lion King. You have the clip saved on your computer. You watch it whenever you need a little pick-me-up.”
His mouth curves into a delicious smile. “You really think I’m a villain, don’t you? You’ve concocted all sorts of stories in that head of yours.”