“I’m off to plan our wedding,” Gabby announced. Talking too fast, she said, “See you in… When will I see you next?”
“I haven’t checked the schedule, but uh, Gabby, we’re supposed to stay in the room and keep a low profile.”
“I thought we were going to finish the mission—” She let the sentence hang.
He took a sip of coffee. “We can keep our ear to the ground, but I don’t want to do anything that could be interpreted as espionage and get ourselves arrested. We are civilians and do not have the authorization or backing of the United States government to do anything that might be interpreted as espionage. Do you want to be charged with violating the Espionage Act?”
Gabby frowned.
“Do you want to end up in a Portuguese prison, Gabs?”
“No, but…”
He exhaled a frustrated breath. “Can we keep it light at least?”
She nodded. “I’ll be careful.”
Markus was right, but in some ways, the mess she was in today was easier than a regular day. No one had to go to the dentist, the kids didn’t have a day off from school on a day she still had work, there wasn’t a science fair, and she didn’t have to cook or cleananything. The toilet wasn’t clogged. Even if it was, she could call Geeves. This is probably what it felt like to have a wife. Gabby had this mission in the bag, even if she was trying to do it on the down-low.
Partway to Naomi’s office, a male voice (Phil?) yelled her name. Her real name. Damn it. She was going to strangle that man.
“Gabby!” he yelled again.
Gabby looked frantically around to make sure no one else had heard and saw… “Justin!”
He was running across the sand like she was water in the desert or like she was his long-lost lover returned from war.
She ran toward him with her arms open. “Justin!”
He wrapped her in a huge hug and then leaned back and said, “Bitch, what is this I hear about you getting married?”
Gabby gave him a you-know-better-than-to-ask look. “Justin, I didn’t think I had to tell you this is an EOD thing.”
“Okay, great.” He swiped his hand across his forehead in relief. “I figured, but you never know.”
“If you knew, then why are you part of this weird family drama to rescue me from my own bad decisions?”
With a sly smile, he said, “How else was I going to get Hugh to go to the Azores with me?” Hugh was standing on the sensible part of the beach where your feet didn’t sink, and you could still walk around without filling your shoes with sand.
Gabby sighed. She saw his point.
“And there was no stopping this family intervention. Phil—” He shook his head in despair. “That man was throwing such a bitch fit when he found out you were in the Azores getting married to Mr. Hottie. I could hear him from my patio.”
Phil. Maybe she should feed him to the sharks.
“Justin, this is serious. Someone tried to kill”—she looked around for potential eavesdroppers before whispering—“Sheridan Lane.”
Justin gasped dramatically and held his hand to his heart. “NottheSheridan Lane.”
“That’s her.”
He squared his shoulders and adjusted his beach bag. “Consider me on the case. I love that woman with my whole being. She is the reason that I married Hugh.”
“What?”
“A column she wrote inInStyleten years ago about trying new things. I was reading it at this nerdy book café when Hugh walked in. I’d never seen anyone who was less my type, and I was like—‘You know, Sheridan, maybe I will try new things.’ And here we are today, nine years happily married.”
Hugh looked like he was starting to burn. He didn’t have an easy complexion for the outdoors.
