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ᴛʜᴇ ᴋᴇʏ

Vera palmed the tiny old key in her pocket, the ornate bow differentiated it from any other keys she’d ever seen before. It was beautiful, antique and mysterious enough that she’d dragged Lukas to Rome with her.

Lukas.

She turned her head slightly, observing his handsome profile. A sheepish giggle escaped her as she shook her head. When she got the call from the fire dept. about what they had been able to save from the fire she wasn’t expecting a half melted frame with a picture from her parents inside. Or that the back of the photo would have an address, ink fading in a masculine neat script leading somewhere in Rome. Or the key that was found with it. She didn’t even remember the last time she opened the box in where those things had been, years. Many. So many she had forgotten all about the picture or the key.

She wasn’t expecting the urge to get the key and go to Rome, find out what all that was about, the address—would the key open something there? She had to know. But traveling alone scared the bejesus out of her, and, well. There was the handsome guy she had just met and she wasn’t ready to say goodbye to.

So she asked him to come. Through a message in a napkin. And she truly thought he’d call her crazy or worse. But he didn’t, he jumped right into her wagon of crazy, and she wanted to kiss him just for that.

Because for the first time in forever, she didn’t have to face the unknown alone.