I shoot him a look that says,Don’t you dare say a word. “It probably would have fit ifIhad packed the second suitcase. You clearly didn’t play as much Tetris as I did.”
“By all means, let’s unpack it, then.” He makes a move for the zipper on the second suitcase, but I snatch his hand to stop him. I don’t actually think it would make a difference if I’d packed it, and he knows it.
“If only we had more suitcases,” he says with too much languishing in his tone.
I can’t help the hope in my eyes and voice. “You have some?” Jack’s apartment is half an hour away, so it’s a big ask to have him go all the way there, come back with them, then drive home again. But it’s an ask I’m willing to ask.
“I might. Depends on what’s in it for me.” He wags his brows.
“How’s keeping that pretty face for an incentive?”
“Changeprettytosexy, and you’ve got yourself a deal.”
If there’s one power I wish I had right now, it’d be the ability to keep a straight face and not stroke Jack’s large ego by showing any amusement. But I’m no superhero. I’m just a mangy maid of honor with a dire need for suitcases.
My reluctant smile is enough for Jack, though, because he stands up and leaves without so much as a goodbye.
“See you in an hour,” I mumble. I’m glad he’s putting in this work for Madi. It’s about time he showed up for her, even if it’s packing suitcases.
It’s only been two minutes when I hear the front door open again, followed by suitcase wheels on the floor. Before I know it, Jack’s in the doorway with two suitcases behind him.
“You had them in your truck?”
“Based on how much stuff you had in here, I figured we’d need them. Oh, and it gets better.”
In a show Vanna White would approve of, he comes into the room with a little prance, pulls one of the suitcases in front of him, showcases it with his hands, then unzips it. Inside is another, slightly smaller suitcase.
“Bless you, Jack Allred,” I whisper.
“What now?” He cups his ear, grinning.
I get up on my feet. “I didn’t say anything.”
“Uh-huh.”
We pack two of the suitcases like the pros we’ve become, then stand, admiring the beautiful results of our work: empty boxes stacked together and a row of lovely suitcases.
Jack puts up his hand, and I high-five him.
“One more spreadsheet cell you can gray out,” he says.
“One down, fifty to go.” I take another look at all the stuff I’ll be carting around tomorrow. It’s going to be interesting. Once the bags are all checked, it’ll be okay, but then there’s the issue of how I’m going to get all this stuff from the baggage claim at the Paris airport to the van I’ve rented to drive to the chateau. My stomach ties itself in knots just thinking about it. But I’m an enterprising human. I’ll figure it out. I’m not the first person to travel with an inordinate amount of luggage.
“So, what time should I be here tomorrow morning?” Jack asks.
“Huh?”
“To take you to the airport.”
“I’m taking an Uber.”
“Cancel it.I’mtaking you. End of story. What time should I be here? When’s your flight?”
“It leaves at 10:20, so I was planning to leave by 6:45.” That ought to nip his idea in the bud. I don’t take him for an early riser.
“See you at 6:30, then, Sheppard.”
I hesitate, considering whether I should fight him on this. But it would be really nice not to have to put my safety in the hands of some random driver while it’s still dark out. So, I humble myself and say, “Thank you.”
