"Paris," Romilda said with a happy sigh. "And a few in Italy. But mostly Paris."
God, she loved Paris. She had an aunt that lived there, just one, who had married a Frenchman. Funny how her mother's generation had decided to spread out from Italy, just a bit. Of course, it was harder to get into Paris, but Romilda's family was neutral enough.
"I really should have been born French, not Italian," she said. "Not that I don't love Italy. But Paris." It was obvious from her tone how much she loved that city. She smiled. "I'd love some tea, thank you."