I point to the pile of dresses on my bed. “Way ahead of you. I know how to pack a suitcase, you know.”
Truthfully, I haven’t had much practice packing, just because I haven’t traveled much. When I was younger, my father took me to London and New York City a few times on his own businesstrips, but only after he had found heart specialists approved by Dr. Markovic and briefed them on my condition. He paid them some exorbitant sum to keep them on call through the whole trip, to make sure I was safe.
This time, I’m traveling without an approved doctor waiting in the wings. I did a little of my own research, making sure I had the name and number of twenty-four seven medical center on Paros. Athens itself has an excellent hospital, but I'm taking a bit of a risk straying so far from a heart specialist.
If I asked James, I'm sure he'd hire a private doctor to travel with us so there would always be someone on call. That would be the smartest course of action. He’s seen my scar—at least, part of it—so he must suspect that I've had health problems.
James is still hovering in the doorway. I shoot him a questioning look. “What?”
“Did you get Taylor’s email about our itinerary?”
I nod. “He was very thorough, as always. I was a little disappointed it wasn’t color coded, though.”
“I’ll pass on the note.” James doesn’t laugh, but I can hear the humor in his voice. “You saw the menus, right? Did you send in any grocery requests?”
“I’m easy. I saw souvlaki on two different days, so I’m happy.”
“And you saw that my meetings in Athens will conflict with?—”
“James,” I interrupt. “I read all the emails thoroughly, even though Taylor loves his run-on sentences. I’m prepared. And even if I wasn’t, we could be a little spontaneous.”
“Spontaneous,” he repeats, like the word is physically uncomfortable to hold in his mouth.
“Yes, James. That’s when you change your mind, or things don’t go according to plan, and you just wing it.”
He scowls. “I don’t ‘wing it.’”
“You will if we forget to pack sunscreen or aspirin or anything, or if we get lost on a path somewhere. We’ll be fine.”
“At least I looked up where the hospitals are, in case being spontaneous leads us down any unfortunate paths,” he mutters.
My head shoots up. “You what?”
“I looked up the hospitals. It’s good to know where to go in case of an emergency.”
“Right.” Relief and uncertainty twist in my brain. It’s good that James has thought about medical care. If my medications failed or anything happened, he could find someone to look after me. But would he look up hospitals for a regular business trip, or is it because of me? Does he suspect that there’s something wrong with me?
James shifts in the doorway. “Well, I better start packing myself.”
“Let me guess. You’re packing seven different suits.”
“What's wrong with suits?”
“They're not exactly vacation attire,” I scoff. “This is your time to let loose. Pull out that tacky Hawaiian shirt you've been dying to wear.”
“No such thing exists in my wardrobe,” he says disdainfully. “My wardrobe consists of business suits and gym-wear, so that's what I’ll pack.”
“That can't be all. You have a personal shopper, right?” He nods. “There's no way she didn't outfit you with a full wardrobe.”
“I know what’s in my own closet.”
“I very much doubt that. Let me check.” I stroll over to James's room and into his closet while he trails behind me. I've never been in his closet, I realize. It's one of those well-organized walk-ins that every wealthy man has, but that few appreciate.
“You see?” James says, gesturing around. “All suits.”
I start pulling open drawers, which are, of course, perfectly organized. Socks, gym shirts and shorts, underwear, pajamas…
“Ah-ha!” I pull out a pair of khaki shorts and hold them up triumphantly.
