“Fine, fine.” Sasha stood, stretching up on two elegantly heeled legs. “Look, I can’t come and get you tomorrow. I’ll get your mom to come and pick you up—”
“She won’t come,” Tom said bluntly.
“Right.” Sasha nodded, without even asking Tom why. “Okay, so, rent a car then. Charge it to your mom though. I don’t want to pay for it.”
“I’ll pay for it,” Tom said, repressing a hot bolt of anger at Sasha. He needed to sleep before he said something he regretted. “It’s not like we can’t afford it, Sasha. And Mom is already paying for the wedding.”
Sasha must have sensed his frustration, because her face abruptly softened, and she leaned towards him. “Look, I don’t really care how you get back, just get back safely, okay?” She kissed him softly. “I don’t like being away from you. It’s an exciting time for us. We should be together.”
Tom kissed her back. “It is an exciting time,” he agreed, though his words sounded strangely flat.
“It really is. I can’t wait for you to meet the wedding planners.” Sasha straightened up. “And Luis De León is flying in... It’s so wonderful, he’s probably on his way right now, they said he was going to get the first flight he could.” She gave Tom a broad, genuine smile. “I can’t wait to meet him and start talking about my dream dress.”
Tom couldn’t help himself, returning Sasha’s smile, enjoying her obvious display of excitement. She was so blunt and to-the-point normally, hardly ever allowing herself to show her true feelings. It was probably why they got along so well, Tom thought, with a rise of bitterness that took him by surprise.
“Don’t worry about me,” he told her honestly. “I’ll get back somehow. You just make sure you enjoy yourself tomorrow with this wedding dress person—”
“Designer,” Sasha corrected him, picking up her bag.
“Right, designer,” Tom smiled at her. “It’s our wedding, Sasha. I want you to be happy. It should be exciting. It should be an adventure.”
Adventure.It was a word he associated with Ari, one that brought to his mind memories of sweet summer kisses and European cities and the smell of paint on slender fingertips. It was a word that made him both smile and sigh, a word that filled him with wistful longing and regret for times gone by. It was a word that he loved, but one that had been missing from his life for far too long.
Life with Sasha wasn’t an adventure, he suddenly realised. Life with Sasha was one long road of hard tarmac with no turn-offs. He swallowed, uncomfortable. He didn’t know where his mind was at today. Clearly the crash, and then his talk with his mother, had taken it out of him, or why else would he be like this?
“I need to sleep,” he said again. “It’s late.”
“Well, you can blame your mother for that,” Sasha shrugged. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah? Try to be a little... Well,betterthan you are right now. You need to meet the wedding planners and Luis De León tomorrow, and I want you to make a good impression.”
“Right,” he answered. “A good impression.”
Sasha stopped at the flat tone to his voice, and she gave him a worried glance. “You are excited too, aren’t you Tom?” she asked. “Look, I know I’ve been a nightmare recently. I know I’ve been preoccupied and distracted and probably not as nice to you as I can be. It’s just that this is my wedding and—”
“Hey,” Tom cut in softly, mollified by her conciliatory tone. “It’s okay. I get it.”
“Do you?” Sasha’s voice was small.
“Yes,” he said firmly. “It’s a wedding, and you’re a bride, and you’re entitled to be a little bit extra before it all.” He saw Sasha’s face relax. “I’ll try to be on my best behaviour tomorrow, okay?”
She nodded. “Great.” Now her tone was bright and breezy, the tense moment between them almost forgotten. “Try and be back at your mom’s place for lunch, okay? By all accounts Luis De León is a bit of a foodie, so I’ve asked the chef to prepare a quail egg salad.”
Tom grimaced.
“You and eggs,” Sasha rolled her eyes. “I’ll never understand why you don’t like them.”
“It’s not that I don’t like them, it’s just that I choose not to eat them.”
“Well, you’ll just have to put up with them tomorrow. I want Luis De León to see how cultured we are. We need to serve an adventurous dish.”
“Like eggs?” Tom asked wryly.
“Exactly,” Sasha answered, clearly missing the sarcasm in his voice. He watched as she applied a thick layer of lipstick.
“Well,” he added, “I guess an egg is always an adventure — it may be different each time.”
He’d spoken the words without even thinking, and the moment they left his lips he sat back, stunned. Ari’s face, her satin skin dusted pink and her beautiful smile immediately crossed his mind. Longing, painful and hot, struck him hard.
He missed her so much.
