All Roads Lead to Rome

by Yamile Saied Méndez

Genres: Romantic Comedy

Synopsis

What happens when you fall hard for your fallback? In this luminous love story, a young woman who’s spent years traveling the globe to outrun her own grief faces a momentous decision on her 33rd birthday . . .

A moving story about wanderlust, loss, hope, and the special magic of finding love in unexpected places—at just the right time - for readers of Elena Armas, Emily Henry and Mia Sosa, from the acclaimed author of the Reese Witherspoon YA Book Club Pick Furia.

All Stevie Choi ever wanted was a cozy life in suburbia—a loving husband, adorable kids, a dog. That simple dream shattered into a million pieces when she was only seventeen. She’s spent the years since trying to outrun the pain and make something of herself, if only to prove to her estranged family that she’s happy and successful—even though she’s secretly yearning for another chance at love. If only she believed she deserved it . . .

So, Stevie drowns herself in her job, and in the low season, “dates” new countries, leaving her Utah home-base to circle the globe, from Paris to Cairo to Cabo San Lucas, curating a gorgeous Instagram feed—while spending every New Year alone. Then one frigid January day in Rome she meets Cristian. He would be her perfect match—if they weren’t separated by continents and obligations. Unable to say goodbye, they agree that if they’re both single at seventy, they’ll marry each other if only to have a fun companion to travel with . . . But through the years, their friendship grows into something more, and suddenly it’s up to Stevie to choose happiness . . .

Sparkling with hope, All Roads Lead to Rome soulfully examines all the ways a tender heart can be broken—and how faith in the future—and in oneself—can make it whole again . . .

Release date: June 24, 2025

Publisher: Kensington Books

Print pages: 288

Sample

The wedding was set to start at six o’clock sharp. If Stephanie Marie Choi—Stevie to her friends—didn’t hurry, she’d be late. In her defense, she had only gone to bed not even six hours before, and the jet lag had hit her like an anvil, but she’d promised everyone she’d be there, so she had no choice but to show up. She already felt a bit guilty for having slept away most of the day while in Rome. This was, after all, her first time in the Eternal City, and she was delighted at everything her eyes had landed on. It was just like in the movies. Even in the wintertime, Rome was purely magical. It was far more romantic than Paris, which she had already visited multiple times in her twenty-seven years of life.

Brady MacLean’s argument of starting a new life with the girl of his dreams on the first day of the year—for good luck—had made sense back in August when he first proposed. But now it seemed ridiculous. It was as bad an idea as Valentine’s Day. Some stubborn people, aka Brady, hadn’t even considered that future anniversaries could suck forever if anything went wrong. Way to ruin the holidays forever if this marriage didn’t work out.

Besides the jet lag, Stevie was still hung over from the New Year celebrations/bachelor/bachelorette party that had taken place the night before. A jet-lagged, hungover, moody Stevie wasn’t for the weak of heart, but duty called.

As she was getting ready for the wedding ceremony, Stevie remembered that one of her best friends, Madi, had said Rome was the perfect place to seal your destiny with one’s true love. Then again, Madi’s life seemed to be charmed and seeped in magic. Of course she’d see everything through rose-colored glasses. Stevie swept her hair up in a high ponytail to show off the new fairy tattoo on her shoulder. She reapplied some of the red lipstick she’d “borrowed” from her other best friend, Nadia, on Christmas Day. Then she blew a kiss to the mirror and left for the wedding.

Although Brady’s mom had been adamant that the wedding should run on a tight and precise schedule, by the time Stevie ran into the small ancient church shivering from the cold, only a handful of people had arrived—all were on the groom’s side. When Brady saw her walk in, he shot her a radiant smile. If Stevie had ever stopped to consider that perhaps there was a soulmate waiting for her in spite of who she was, maybe she’d be the bride today.

Once upon a time, when she was barely eighteen and Brady was twenty, they had a short fling. They’d both been door-to-door rookie reps, selling alarm systems in Lubbock, Texas. Maybe it had been the heat of the South, or the boredom of working hard every day like a hamster on a wheel. It could have been that Brady’s smile really was that charming and his blue eyes so trusting and kind. Whatever it was, Stevie had let her defenses down, and one afternoon, she’d kissed him spontaneously. It wasn’t her first kiss by any means, but it seared her heart just the same.

As amazing as the kiss had been, it wasn’t enough to tie her down, though, mainly because she really liked Brady and she had no intention of ruining his life. She was a bad apple, according to every authority figure in her life, from teachers to nosy aunts, and even her own mother. Stevie didn’t want to make his life miserable like hers, so she decided to friend-zone him.

Now Brady was getting married to Céline, a beautiful, sweet French girl who was kind but, in Stevie’s opinion, too vanilla, too accommodating, and too predictable. Maybe that’s why Brady had decided to settle for her. Céline and Stevie were opposites of each other in every sense of the word. Céline was tall and statuesque, whereas Stevie was short and stocky. Céline was blonde and fair-skinned. She resembled one of those elves you’d see in an epic fantasy movie. Stevie’s skin wasn’t as dark as her friend Nadia’s, but she was definitely on the darker olive-colored side, and her black hair had natural blue tints if the light hit her just right. Céline was refined and well-spoken. Stevie swore like a trucker and was like one of the boys. She felt like one of them, too, which was why she felt quite comfortable when she was in the midst of a group of guys. She took great pride in outdrinking, outswearing, outearning them.

“Stephanie,” Brady said in that breathy way of his when she reached him. “Now that you’re here, I’m not so nervous anymore.”

Stevie’s insides tingled. Of course, she didn’t have feelings for her best guy friend, like at all. She hated to admit it, but the way he insisted on calling her by her proper name always got to her.

“Brady,” she said, while kissing him on the cheek. His skin felt so soft against hers, and she closed her eyes to savor the moment. She didn’t have romantic feelings for Brady, nor did she ever sexually fantasize about him, but she was undeniably hungry for human touch. It was ridiculous how much she craved it. Stevie had been on her own for ages, and if she were being honest with herself, it was easy for her to overestimate how much resilience she really had to spend the holidays all on her own.

“Mom thought you wouldn’t dare show up,” he remarked.

Stevie glanced toward Brady’s mom, who was sitting on the first row. The reigning Mrs. MacLean was furiously texting. “Why?” Stevie asked, wondering if something had happened the previous night during the pre-wedding festivities. As hard as she tried, Stevie couldn’t remember.

Brady shrugged. “She’s old-school. I don’t think she believes a man and a woman can be friends. You know what I mean?”

She knew what he meant, and the thought made her feel dirty, somehow. “Céline’s not here yet?” she asked, trying to change the subject and looking around as if expecting the magnificent bride to pop up from her hiding spot in the wooden pews or behind a pillar.

Brady’s mom was now resolutely keeping her gaze on the crucifix on top of the altar with a horrified expression on her face. Brady’s family were all Mormons, although he was inactive. He wasn’t even religious, and neither was Céline. She said she liked the aesthetic of the church, which had been perfect since this winter was supposedly the coldest in decades. It was much too cold for an outdoor, nondenominational wedding.

“She won’t be here for a while. They’re French,” Brady said, chuckling. “I don’t know what Mom was expecting.”

“And people are still recovering from the holiday festivities. After all, it’s the first day of January, you know,” Stevie said, gently elbowing him in the ribs; but being a full foot shorter than him, she hit him in the lower stomach.

“Ouch,” he whispered, doubling over. “So close to the family jewels! I need the equipment to work on my wedding night, woman!”

Stevie smiled, but her eyes went all misty, so she avoided looking at his face. Not that she’d ever go Julia Roberts in My Best Friend’s Wedding on him, but she didn’t want to even have to deal with the temptation. The regret that would one-hundred-percent follow wasn’t worth the risk.

“Maybe it was dumb for me to choose today, but remember when you told me to start the year how I want it to go?” Brady asked. “Well, I mean to spend the rest of my life with Céline, so I better start the year right.”

Stevie scratched the back of her head to distract herself from the pain in her heart that she felt upon noting the tone of voice of a man deeply in love. “You could at least have chosen a place in a warm location. I don’t know, the Caribbean or South America. Australia, even. It’s summertime there, and you loved it last time we visited,” she teased.

“Other than the pictures on social media, I have no memories of it. I was out the whole time, and I never want to end a year and start the next like that again,” he said. His eyes crinkled in the corners when he smiled. Brady made a gesture of brushing his hair, but he must have remembered he couldn’t mess it up, because he changed his mind as his fingers touched the top of his head. “Besides, she wanted Rome in the winter. Who am I to deny the queen of my life?”

Stevie smiled through another pang, this one even sharper and deeper than the first. It wasn’t exactly a pang of regret, because she knew that if she and Brady had been a thing, it wouldn’t have ended like this—in a fancy church wedding. Instead, it would’ve ended with one of them filing a restraining order against the other. Most likely, him against her. There was no denying the pang of envy was real, because she would never have a man speak of her this way. She wasn’t the kind of woman men leave everything for or give their hearts to on a silver platter.

Irrationally, Stevie wanted total devotion or nothing at all. Once upon a time, she’d once had it. Then, in what seemed like a blink of an eye, she lost it all.

“You don’t deserve so much love,” her mom had told her once. More than a cruel statement, it had become a curse that Stevie just knew would follow her for the rest of her life. It was also a lesson she’d never forget.

Ever since Stevie had heard those words, she’d been no one’s first choice—ever. She had tried to change and earn that kind of devotion, but she’d failed miserably.

Never again would she set herself up for this kind of disappointment.

Granted, she wasn’t even thirty yet, but in her soul, Stevie felt ancient, jaded, and cynical—when it came to love, at least.

Next to her, Brady wrung his hands. She patted his shoulder. “You said you weren’t nervous. Having cold feet?”

He shrugged. “What? No! I’m just excited. People think only girls dream of this day, but I’ve been fantasizing about my wedding all my life. I’m so lucky! I don’t know what I did to deserve her.”

The smile on this gentle giant melted Stevie’s frozen heart, even though it was pierced with unintended arrows. “She’s the lucky one,” she replied. “And no one ever has to earn the privilege of being loved. It’s a right everyone should have.”

Of course she didn’t believe this, but her words made him smile again, and that’s all she’d been shooting for.

While they waited for the bride, they talked about happy and funny days in the past. For the last five years, during the summers, they had co-managed a home alarm sales office in South Texas. Besides earning more money than a young person with no other skills but selling pitches and managing a group of rowdy guys, they’d formed a friendship Stevie hoped would last forever. Now, after becoming aware of his mom’s opinion of platonic friendships between men and women, she hoped that their partnership would survive his marriage.

Soon, the church filled up with people from the bride’s side, and an hour and a half after the planned start time, Brady’s mom stepped up to him with a dazzling smile on her face and said, “She’s here!” Then she shot Stevie a warning look that froze her. It happened so fast that it seemed as though it never happened.

Brady’s eyes immediately flew to Stevie’s. This wasn’t the time or place to ask his mom why she was being a witch. Stevie nodded at Brady, letting him know everything would turn out perfectly.

And it did.

Lined up next to the rest of the groom’s party, standing in as the best man, Stevie watched Céline enter the church and draw the attention of every set of eyes. She was a vision in her vintage Valentino gown, her victorious smile glowing behind the thin veil. She took Stevie’s breath away.

Next to her, Brady was having an epiphany. Without waiting for a cue, Stevie handed him a handkerchief, and he dabbed at his eyes with zero self-consciousness. She was proud of him for showing his emotions. She’d taught him well. But she kept hers tightly reined in. Stevie would fulfill the role of being his best man, but she had no intention of playing the heartbroken best friend crying at the side of the altar.

She smiled at Céline, but the bride didn’t return the gesture. To make matters worse, Chloe, the matron of honor, one of Céline’s best friends and now sister-in-law, shoved Stevie aside and smirked at her instead of apologizing. She was married to Andrew, one of Brady’s brothers and the other best man, and she didn’t hide the fact that she didn’t want Stevie to be part of the wedding party.

Obviously, people whispered and gossiped about her and Brady’s friendship, and she wasn’t going to be the freak show everyone came to see. She lowered her head and tried to blend in, somehow hoping to become invisible. The ceremony started, and Stevie fought hard to stay present in the moment instead of disassociating like she did when things got too overwhelming to process.

When the Italian priest asked in flawless English, “Does anyone object to this union? Speak up now or be silent forever,” Andrew, on Stevie’s left, playfully elbowed her.

Everyone in the church seemed to be looking at her. Everyone but Céline. Stevie swallowed her discomfort. It sounded like a gulp, which echoed throughout the church, louder than she’d intended. A ripple of contained laughter swept through the attendants. With her face burning with humiliation, Stevie made a dismissing gesture with her hand, as if to indicate the priest could continue.

“Thanks,” Brady mouthed at her.

“Asshole,” she whispered back. Stevie rolled her eyes to hide the tears prickling. They surprised her, because she had never even considered making a great gesture like in the movies, not even a tiny one, to be honest, and she wondered if Céline had arrived so late to give her a last chance. One she never thought she had and now had lost forever.

“I now declare you, husband and wife,” the priest pronounced.

Bride and groom kissed, and the audience exploded in applause. At least, Céline’s family did. Brady’s, who was used to more solemn religious meetings, followed demurely with a few seconds’ delay.

Andrew gently pressed Stevie’s hand. “Are you okay?”

She didn’t dare look at him, because his wife, Chloe, was practically drilling a hole into Stevie with her stare. “Perfect. Happiest day of my life now that I’m not in charge of this fool anymore.”

Dismissing her feelings with cheap humor, pulling her hand back, and wiping it on her dress as if she felt dirty was a typical Stevie move. But she managed to keep her fake smile on when the two families waited outside to throw rice at the newlyweds, although she was freezing in her pink dress. She’d worn the exact color Céline had assigned to the bridesmaids and her, but of course, Stevie had chosen the skimpiest one she could find, and she’d left her faux fur coat inside the church. She was paying for it now. She had to tiptoe on the cobblestones to save the heels of her brand-new Christian Louboutin stilettos, but never once lost her balance.

As the best man, she rode with Andrew and Chloe to the reception and was subjected to being a first-row witness of their bickering as the matron of honor bashed him for having held Stevie’s hand.

“He didn’t . . . it wasn’t,” Stevie started to say, but Chloe cut her off.

“Please stop. Everyone saw it,” Chloe insisted.

“Saw what?” Stevie asked, her blood boiling.

“Please, Stephanie,” Andrew begged. “Stay out of this. You’re making it worse.”

Stevie balled her fists to stop herself from punching him. “Don’t call me Stephanie ever again, you idiot.”

“Don’t call my husband an idiot, you slut,” Chloe shot back, grabbing her husband’s hand.

Stevie scoffed at how quickly the two of them had turned on her when she was the innocent bystander to their dysfunctional relationship. These two had been married for less than six months. Céline and Brady had met at their wedding, after all.

“You shouldn’t have come, Stevie,” Andrew muttered.

Stevie’s eyes prickled, and she had to look out the window.

“Aw,” Chloe said in a mocking voice. “Are you going to cry, bitch?”

If it weren’t for the fact that the action would’ve certainly made the front page of the worst tabloids, if not the social media accounts of Céline’s throngs of influencer friends, Stevie would have jumped from the car. She tried to breathe like Madi had taught her while Chloe and Andrew argued again. The poor driver looked at the three of them through the rearview mirror. Finally, they arrived at the reception venue in the middle of Rome. Stevie regretted that she had to give the toast and couldn’t run away back to the safety of her hotel room. She had no one to blame but her own stupid self.

It was obvious now that she’d lost Brady to marriage. What a tragedy. More than good friends, they’d been excellent business partners. By the time she made it inside the venue, she was fuming with anger. The seething kind of anger that can’t be hidden and is usually mistaken for something else, like jealousy.

And she wasn’t jealous!

Céline and Chloe and the rest could keep their stupid husbands, for all she cared. Stevie had never even had a crumb of interest in any of them. Why would she try to steal them, now that they were married, when she could’ve had them before? It didn’t make sense. But she wasn’t going to try to reason with these idiot girls.

Her mood didn’t improve at the actual reception. Whoever had planned the seating had assigned her to the farthest table from the happy couple, tucked away from everyone else. Still, as much as she could—or as much as Céline’s friends let her—Stevie performed her best man duties to the best of her ability. She avoided all alcohol, just in case. She played with the nieces and nephews and the other random kids who for some reason came up to chat with her. She talked to the older aunts and distant acquaintances. But the whole time, Stevie wondered what she was doing in a place where she was certainly not wanted.

After dessert, Andrew gave his best man speech. Stevie tried not to roll her eyes or yawn at the cringe words that came out of his mouth. When Andrew announced that Stevie would be speaking next, she truly wished she’d followed her gut and left before the other girls in the bridal party had a chance to humiliate her even more.

Aware that every eye was on her, she gave the short and sweet toast celebrating the happy couple that she’d prepared, making an effort to speak of the two of them as a unit, just in case. Céline must have found no fault with it, because she gave her a small smile while Brady beamed at Stevie. Chloe and Andrew were bickering again.

Ignoring them, Stevie stood in the small group of single ladies waiting to catch the bouquet. Most women in the party, even the young ones like her, were either engaged or married. So Stevie stood next to the tween girls and the divorced middle-aged aunts who were eager to get a sign from the universe that a second chance was right around the corner.

Stevie didn’t need any signs. She already knew there would be no second chances for her, because it was her choice not to have one, damn it! Still, the bouquet fell on her head, and out of a reflex, her arm shot out to grab it. She caught it like a pro. It must have been muscle memory from her years of high school softball.

Stevie held the flowers against her chest like she was in a Miss Universe pageant, to the absolute hilarity of Brady, Andrew, and the rest of the boys. Céline winked at her, and Stevie replied with a curtsy, hoping to smash any wrong ideas she may still have about her partnership with Brady.

“Please, let’s get ready for the bride and groom’s first dance!” the DJ announced, as the first chords of Ed Sheeran’s “Perfect” rang through the room.

Stevie glanced at Brady, who shrugged, as if waiting to be scolded in front of his family. He’d dedicated this song to her once, when he was still trying to make them a thing. It was cheesy, but she’d always thought this was their song, and now he played it at his wedding for another. But she took it in stride and smiled. When the rest of the attendants took to the floor, she smoothly made her way to the back of the room, like one of the wallflowers of the movies she secretly loved to watch. She thought she blended perfectly with the shadows as she retreated behind a curtain, only to find she wasn’t alone.

Standing behind the see-through curtains, a tall blond guy was looking at the dance floor as if the couples were characters out of a zombie movie. When Stevie bumped into him, he was so startled that he spilled his wine on her.

“Oh my God!” he said in heavy accented English. “Sorry about that!” He proceeded to yank the handkerchief from his jacket pocket and dab at the front of her dress, muttering something in Spanish.

Her family was from Peru, but Stevie didn’t speak Spanish, although her friends Nadia and Madi had taught her the essentials, namely swear words. This man was swearing like a sailor in the most perfect Argentine accent she’d ever heard as he carefully tried to blot out the red wine from her pink silk dress.

“It’s okay! Leave it!” she said, laughing. Stevie wished she spoke a language other than English to at least have some moment of privacy from her internal nightmare.

He stopped then, and when he looked at her, time stood still, and not in a good way. It was all so ridiculous. From the brightness of his sparkling blue eyes to the way she got so nervous to finally being in front of the one guy Brady had ever been jealous of, Cristian Alvarez.

“Oh, shit!” she gasped.

“Oh, shit indeed,” he said, with a crooked smile that sent sirens wailing in her mind. “Nice to finally meet you, Stephanie. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“And I’ve heard a lot about you, Cristian,” she replied, her skin prickling like it was warning her about a predator.

It wasn’t an exaggeration. All she’d ever heard about Cristian Alvarez from Brady was problematic. He was a self-centered prick who left a string of broken hearts behind him and ruined reputations. One of the summer sales guys had promised to kill him for taking his sister’s virginity, as if virginity were a jewel and they lived in the dark ages.

Stevie’s body went cold all over. Had she fallen into a trap? Had Céline and her posse sent him to torture her? She was already emotionally frail, and if this guy wanted to mess with her, he was going to have a rude awakening. Somehow, she’d never been in the vicinity of his exploits. Why had Brady invited him when he hated him so much?

He must have read the question in Stevie’s eyes and rushed to reply, “Céline invited me. Her grandpa and my grandma are neighbors . . . of sorts. Ross, my grandma, doesn’t travel anymore, and since I was in Europe already, she asked me to come and represent the family. I didn’t expect to see you here, honestly.”

“Why not?” she asked, in the most cutting tone she could muster.

Cristian pressed his lips as if he didn’t want to say what he was thinking, but his eyes darted toward the bride and groom on the other side of the room.

Stevie sighed. “Because Céline hates me.”

Cristian shrugged one shoulder. “She doesn’t hate you. She knows that if it weren’t for you, Brady would still be living in his parents’ basement. Now he’s on the straight and narrow. She thinks she can take it from here.”

Stevie had known all this, but it was nice to have the validation of someone else, a stranger, confirming her suspicions. “Just for the record, Brady is int. . .