InBoston!
“I have other clothes at the hotel,” she said. “Obviously.”
His jaw ticked, his shoulders shifting slightly. She felt as though she’d scored a point, as though—for the first time since he’d taken her off the boat—he was realizing flaws in his plan.
“Too late,” he finally said. “We’re on our way.”
“To where? This is Paris! There’s not…you know, a Walmart. Stores close early here!”
“Not all stores.” He swiped his thumb across his phone screen, tipped it toward her.
It was a good three seconds of stupefied silence as she looked at the name—the images—in front of her.
Then she simply said, “No.”
“No?”
“No,” she repeated. “We’re not going there.”
“We are. We are currently almost there.” He tipped his phone back toward himself, swiped back to the rideshare app. “Three minutes away. It’s open until eight thirty. Plenty of time.”
She’d always wondered what it really meant, in books, when someone was described assputtering.
As soon as she tried speaking again, though, she got it.
Two abortedButs that came out likeBuh. An attempt to change course, into something like,What are you thinking, which only came out asYou. A final, limpI, which she let drown beneath the too-honest possibilities.
I don’t want to. I feel like I might cry. I am pretty sure I ruined that boat cruise.
I think I liked holding your hand?
“It’s not that kind of place!” she blurted, finally.
“What kind of place?”
“The kind of place that you go with vomit on your clothes?”
He looked over at her again, assessing. “You’ve been there?”
“Yes.”
A pause, and then: “On your honeymoon?”
She swallowed. The rank mortification of this night continued. “Who told you that?”
“Your ex’s aunt. With the—” He broke off, made a casual gesture around his neck.
Layla rolled her eyes, hoping to distract from the heat rising into her cheeks. “Yes,” she said. “On myhoneymoon.”
He snorted. “Well. Unless your ex-husband threw up on you there, I doubt this trip will remind you of that.”
Under his breath, he muttered something.
Somehow, she knew not to ask for clarification.
“It’s a nice place,” she continued instead. “You don’t go in there and buy a cheap backup outfit.”
“I’ll pay. For whatever. An expensive backup outfit.”
