“Champagne!” Dante decides as we take our seats at the table.

He has selected a fancy high-class restaurant in the neighborhood for dinner after our arrival in Rome. For the first time in my life, I feel slightly underdressed. I’m getting looks and can’t tell if their appreciative or not.

Earlier in the hotel room, I had picked out my own outfit. After this morning’s episode when we were packing clothes, I made sure Dante wouldn’t pull a Ryan on me by telling me what to wear.

He hadn’t, but in turn, my own judgment on what to wear had been thrown off.

I try to block it out and just focus on Dante. It’s been hard enough all day, with my mind constantly forcing the comparison between Ryan and Dante on me, whether I wanted to or not.

Dante was a darling during the train ride here, but I could tell he was irritated that I didn’t want to talk. I tried my best to humor him with his questions when all I wanted was to crawl inside myself and think.

“To Rome. To us,” Dante declares.

“To our stay in Rome.”

We toast.

The waiter arrives with the menus, but Dante doesn’t even let him hand me one. He briefly scans the menu. Clearly, he’s decided in advance, according to what he has read about this place. He goes over a long list and orders everything for both of us, from antipasti to soup, salad, pasta and different types of meat for the main dish—down to the tiramisu for dessert.

I’m speechless, but then I find my tongue and say, “That was clearly thought-out before we even got here.”

“These are just the things you simply have to try here. Trust me, you’ll be amazed. You don’t have to eat everything, of course.”

“But you could have at least asked me,” I protest.

“I’m sorry, Nicole.”

He holds my hand on the table.

“I’m just so excited to be here with you. This is just dinner. The main fun begins tomorrow. There’s a lot more waiting for us.”

His touch feels good, and I decide to let it go. He just means well, I know it.

This is the Dante I fell in love with, I remind myself. The one who wants to make sure everyone is alright, is having a good time. Who thinks of himself last.

“Guess what?” Dante continues. “Remember in the taxi today, I mentioned the Vatican? I’ve booked us a tour tomorrow morning. It’s a small group only, no crowd. And for afterwards, I’ve arranged for a private viewing of Saint Peter’s Chapel. Just you and me!”

He winks.

“You know, Michelangelo contributed to the design, and there are parallels to Saint Mark’s chapel in Venice. See how it’s all coming together?”

“Dante,” I interrupt him, “stop!”

“What’s wrong, Nicole?”

“Don’t you remember that just this morning we’ve also talked about things moving so fast?”

“Yes, yes, I remember,” he agrees.

“Well, here you are again with a full day planned for us tomorrow. And you probably have our entire stay here lined up already as well.”

“There’s so much to see,” he presses.

“I know, and I appreciate your organizing our tour and all your efforts. But I’d also enjoy it if you asked me about these things. We’re a couple, we’re married, we’re partners.”

He nods emphatically.

“You said it yourself, we’re in this together. So shouldn’t we act together, make decisions together?”

“Nicole,” he says and touches my hand again, “you’re absolutely right, of course. I’m truly sorry. Please understand how much it thrills me to surprise you with stuff.”

“I do, Dante, I do.”

I smile at him in a way that dispels his earlier concern and irritation.

He’s literally melting in his seat.

He makes a show of calling back the waiter and canceling our order. He personally hands me the menu with a small bow from his seat.

“Here, please, order anything you want.”

I decide on just the fish and a salad, and Dante silently accepts my choice. We don’t speak of it again, and he doesn’t bring up any more plans for the rest of the dinner.

But he also doesn’t discuss any possible changes to his itinerary. Together with his speech earlier about how I shouldn’t ‘wander off’ anywhere on my own, I’m left with a sour taste in my mouth.

I don’t want any dessert, and when he asks if we should check out Rome’s clubs, I refuse.

“Just take me back to the hotel, please. I’m tired from the train ride today.”

Since we’re staying so close to the Colosseum, Dante proposes a little stroll around it to end the night. The ancient building is lit up impressively and definitely appeals more to me now than during the cab ride to our hotel.

Dante offers his arm, and I gladly take it. Feeling his reassuring warmth through his shirt, I take my time checking out the arches of the building. I note he’s not paying attention to the architecture and is instead intensely observing other people around us in the street.

I get the feeling he is actively looking for some of the ‘bad guys’ he mentioned earlier so he can point them out to me and give me another warning. Joke’s on him, though, because all we see are other tourists and locals who don’t look twice at us.

I can’t see any difference between Venice and Rome. It seems just as safe here.

Dante or no Dante at my side, I could have walked around the Colosseum just the same.

As we get back to the hotel, there’s a commotion at the reception. A young blonde is making a scene, while three receptionists surround her.

“Calma, signorina.”

They’re trying to settle her down, but she starts crying instead.

“Is there no one who can help me?” she shouts.

“Maybe I can do something?” Dante wonders. “Excuse me just a second, Nicole.”

With that, he just leaves me standing at the elevator. What was all this talk about constantly being at my side? I’ll have none of it and follow him to the reception.

Dante’s handsome face and American accent have an instant effect on the blonde. She accepts a tissue from him and with a calmer voice explains that she has a reservation at the hotel, but they won’t let her check in.

“I’ve just been robbed. Someone in the street grabbed my purse and ran off—with my passport and my credit cards!”

Dante turns to me. “See, it can be dangerous out there,” he says triumphantly.

Everyone at the reception turns their attention to Dante as he quickly resolves the situation with authority.

“Please give this woman the room she reserved, and put it on my charge. She’s been through enough already.”

He turns to the blonde. “Don’t worry. I know someone at the American embassy, and they’ll see to your papers. All you have to do is cancel your cards.”

“Thank you so much!” she says full of gratitude—and admiration.

Dante touches her lightly on the shoulder before we return to the elevator.

“Imagine being in that situation,” he says, probably trying to make me understand the dangers of Rome during the ride up while I sulk.

Oh, I understand just fine.

What if I hadn’t been there? Would he have taken the blonde up to his room?

She certainly seemed ready to do whatever as thanks!

I see it clearly now. Dante is keeping me on a very short leash. But he himself might run off any second someone else comes along.

Someone more attractive, someone more experienced, or someone even stupider than me.

Because I must’ve been too stupid to realize it before: Dante is just like Ryan.

The incident with the blonde at the reception leaves me restless all night, and I don’t sleep well. I’m up very early.

My first thought is to order myself strong coffee to be ready for the day. But it’s a day entirely planned by Dante, who’s still in bed, sleeping soundly.

Dreaming of the blonde girl, most likely.

I feel trapped in the hotel room. I try to reach Allison, but no way will she answer at this hour. Whatever adventures she’s had with her friend, she’s still sleeping them off.

Just as well. It’s time I start deciding for myself.

Am I not my own person?

Ryan—at least he let me travel to Venice by myself. But Dante, maybe he’s even more controlling! How did he put it?

Don’t wander off by yourself, I want to know you’re safe at all times?

Well, it sounded more like, ‘I want to know where you are at all times’ to me—can it get any more controlling than that?

If he really gets me, he’ll understand I can do things by myself—in fact, I need to!

I decide to explore on my own and go for a walk around the neighborhood.

Why should it just be Dante who has adventures by himself? I write him a note saying I’ll be back later in time to meet him for the Vatican tour and leave it on my pillow.