Day 1 of the 5-day political summit took place in the late morning and ended in the early evening. Press services were allowed in the balconies overlooking the joined tables where all the invited world leaders and representatives sat to discuss peace and trade relations. It was thrilling for Joe to see Anya's diplomatic side. She was fluent in French, German, as well as Italian- she had clearly learned that after their first meeting. He remembered her Italian then was virtually non-existent. He had hoped to catch her eye at some point during the day's events, but it was clear she was in a different mindset. Here, she was Her Royal Highness the Princess Ann, but he knew that later that night he'd see her as Anya.

The public gardens next to her country's embassy were in full summer bloom. The scent of lilac lingered in the air as Joe quietly made his way inside. The grounds were closed to the public after 7pm, but Joe strategically found a way inside undetected. He found a bench beside a tree, sat, and waited. He heard her before he saw her. Gone was the 22-year-old young woman he had met in 1952. Who stood before him now, 17 years later, was a woman of great sophistication and poise, dressed casually but stylishly in high-waisted checkered petal pushers, black ballet flats, and a white button up top tied at the waist. She'd kept her hair short over the years. Her pixie haircut was styled to give her volume. Joe was still dressed in his suit and tie- not sure if dressing more casually would've been appropriate for a late-night rendezvous with a princess, despite their familiarity. Slung over her shoulder was an oversized black bag, "I'm glad you came, " and she reached out her hand to him and he took it, "This way, and try to keep quiet."

They walked further into the garden until they reached the entrance to the ground's hedge maze, "Come on." She led the way, never once dropping his hand. They walked quietly for 10 minutes, her leading the way through the turns until they reached the center where a circular sculptured fountain stood surrounded by benches. She sat on one of the benches and set down her bag. She took out a bottle of wine, two glasses, and four smaller containers, "I'm still not able to cook us some dinner, but I thought this would be an okay substitute." She then proceeded to open the lids. The containers contained olives, cherry tomatoes, cubed cheese, and grapes.

"Would you like some wine?"

"Yes, thank you," he said as he sat next to her.

She filled their glasses and set the bottle down on the edge of the fountain next to the food.

"Do you still live here in Rome?"

"No. I've not been back here for a few years. I actually was able to get back to New York about six months after your press conference."

"I was glad you were there. Surprised, but very glad I was able to see you one more time... And thank you for never writing anything about our day."

He reached out and covered her hand with his,"That was my initial plan, and I'm sorry that we lied to you, but I couldn't do that to you."

"Thank you. I was happy too that Irving gave me his photos. It was a wonderful souvenir. I still have them and look through them on occasion... did he happen to make any copies for you?"

"He asked, but I told him no. Just in case they were ever discovered by accident."

They continued to sip their wine.

"I thought about that day constantly for about six months. You do make quite the impression, Mr. Bradley." She smiled flirtatiously and squeezed his hand.

"Only six months?" He said jokingly.

She cleared her throat, let go of his hand, and reached for a tomato, and said casually, "I met George around that time."

She smiled at him shyly and looked away as she ate the tomato and took another sip of her wine.

"Ah," he said. Silence followed for a couple of moments, "I was sorry to hear about your divorce."

He could tell she was holding back tears.

"Thank you."

"May I ask what happened?"

She stared back at him, wondering if she could truly trust him with the truth. The only ones who knew the truth were her parents, "In the end, I guess one woman wasn't enough for him."

She finished her wine and reached for the bottle and refilled her glass and then his.

He stared back at her, taking in what she meant, "I'm sorry."

"Me too... But as I said yesterday, I'm doing all right. And being back here and seeing you, I feel even better."

"A Roman holiday was a cure-all for you last time."

"Yes." She said softly. He felt his heart quicken as she looked back at him with that same look she had given him 17 years ago inside Via Margutta 51 when he had suggested moving to a new location with a kitchen.

They sipped their wine quietly, and an hour later, they packed up her bag and made their way out of the hedge maze hand in hand. As they came upon the entrance they stopped and stared up at the embassy- her home for the next week, "Other than the press conference, have you ever been inside?" She asked still staring at the building.

"No, I'm afraid not."

"Would you like to see it now?" And she turned to him and fixed him with a serious look.

"Anya-"

"Stay the night with me, Joe."

He looked into her eyes and saw the desperation, loneliness, uncertainty, but also love and desire. He let out a breath before pulling her to him, and then proceeded to answer her question by bringing their lips together.