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“What?”

“Through centuries, this has been my family’s tradition. We each have a turn. It wasn’t my year, but I swapped with someone so you could experience this too.”

“Rici,” I whisper in wonder. My eyes roam around the huge round space, at the marble columns and the beautiful flooring.

“Pantheon means honor of gods, and it is the best-preserved Roman monument,” he says. “It’s over two thousand years old and still has the original flooring and marble.”

My eyes follow his voice as he points to the marble statues that stand around as if guarding the magnificence.

“It is the tomb to many of our great Italians. Vittorio Emmanuelle II. Umberto and his queen Margherita. Rafael and his lover.”

He looks down at me and I rise up on my toes to kiss him. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

“The Oculus.” He points to the ceiling. I look up and my mouth falls open in wonder. A circular hole in the ceiling is open, meaning I can see the clouds in the sky.

“Is that open?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“Does the rain get in here?”

“Yes, the floor is sloped and has drainage.”

“It’s incredible,” I whisper.

He looks at his watch. “Come, it’s almost time.” He takes my hands and he leads me to the center of the room to stand on a marked spot.

“At 11:11 on the 21st of April every year, the moon shines through the Oculus and creates a beam of light. It is said that, in that light, you speak with the gods.”

I look up at the ceiling and then back at him. “Wait, that’s today.”

“We get to speak to the gods, Olivia.”

“What?” I whisper.

“When the moonlight shines on us, you need to say your truth.”

I stare at him. “What do you mean?”

“I go first and speak my truth to the gods. After that, you tell them yours.”

“Are you serious?”

He holds my hands in his and we stare up at the opening in the ceiling above, waiting for the moonlight.

This is the most incredible thing I’ve ever done… ever seen. We wait and wait and wait, and then suddenly, the moonlight dances off the mirrors around the room, shining directly down on us like a magical beam.

We stare at each other.

“What’s your truth, Enrico?” I whisper.

He clenches his jaw and frowns, as if troubled by what he’s about to say. “I don’t think our story ends here.”

Tears threaten to form as I stare at him, because this is magical and perfect and how the hell is this real? Does he feel it too?

“Now your truth, Olivia,” he whispers. I pause. What the hell do I say? “Hurry, bella,” he urges.

I stare at him. “I think our story is just beginning.”