“Yes, everything is fine now,” I assure her.
There’s no need to go into the details of said emergency, which was that as I got ready to leave the flat, I suddenly realized in absolute horror that I’d forgotten to shave my legs. I had to cancel the Uber that was already waiting, as the driver was getting grumpy and sending me impatient messages, and then hoist up the blue maxi skirt I was wearing to balance a leg in the sink before doing the other one. I then had to wait ten minutes for another Uber to accept my trip, and by then the traffic was terrible on the way to Gatwick.
“I’m so sorry for holding you up,” I say again.
“You’re only a few minutes late, it’s no problem,” the woman says, smiling with impossibly perfect, pearly-white teeth. “I’m Sadie, by the way. It’s really nice to meet you—I’ve heard a lot about you from Mimi.”
She introduces me to the small circle of people that will be joining us—two journalists from different travel publications and one from a luxury fashion magazine that is launching a travelsection—and I politely say hi to all of them, until she lands on Ryan.
“And of course, you know Ryan,” she says as I acknowledge him with a smile, forcing myself to look up into his eyes.
“Right,” I say through nervous laughter. “Hi.”
“Hi, Harper,” he replies, giving nothing away.
“Let’s tackle security, shall we?” Sadie suggests before turning on her heel and walking briskly through the airport.
Ryan and I naturally fall into step with one another as we bring up the rear of the group, the other journos forced to make small talk as they try to keep up with Sadie.
“So, did you—” he begins at the same time as I say, “I want to thank—”
“Sorry,” I say, blushing. “You go first.”
“I was going to check you remembered your passport.”
“And I was going to thank you for the reminder.”
“I didn’t mean to sound bossy.”
“I didn’t think you sounded bossy.”
He nods. “Good.”
He still seems tense, and we remain silent until we reach the security queue and he lets me go ahead of him. The only time I see a hint of him relaxing is when we get near the front of the queue and I realize I need to get the liquids out. I plonk my weekend bag on the ground and unzip it, fishing around the crumpled clothes, trying not to send my sexy lingerie flying through the air in the process. As the queue moves forward, I’m forced to awkwardly shuffle along, nudging my bag along with me, my bum in the air as I lean over it.
“Organized as ever,” Ryan murmurs behind me, and I can hear that he’s smiling.
When we get on the plane, I’m disappointed that I’m not sitting next to him and contemplate trying to bribe the older woman in the seat beside him to switch. But my pride gets thebetter of me. I’m seated in the row behind, and I spend the two-hour flight studying what I can see of Ryan through the gap in the seats, which is his left ear, a portion of his neck, and the back of his left forearm and elbow.
After spending a little too long daydreaming about kissing that gentle slope of his neck, I force myself to snap out of it and instead open the itinerary that Sadie provided. Today, we’ll be relaxing at the hotel, which is, after all, the reason we’re here, but tomorrow morning we’ll be visiting art galleries and churches and enjoying a wine tour in the afternoon. Reading through, I get a flurry of excitement—it’s been ages since I went on holiday. I must remember to bring Mimi back a gift.
I can’t stop beaming as we step off the plane into the humid heat of summertime in Italy and spend the mini-bus taxi journey to the hotel gazing out the window in absolute awe ofFirenze,one of the most beautiful cities I’ve ever seen. The narrow streets, lined with rustic, warm yellow, red-roofed buildings, are bursting with quirky shops and restaurants, and bustling with pedestrians, and even though I know nothing about architecture, I can tell the sights here are nothing short of spectacular. I’m already itching to explore.
“You’ve never been?” a voice asks gently.
I tear my eyes from the window to find that Ryan has moved to sit next to me.
“No, this is my first time. How could you tell?”
“Your face,” he answers simply, giving me one of his trademark secretive smiles. “You looked… in awe.”
“I am in awe,” I admit. “It’s stunning. You’ve been to Florence?”
“A few times. I love it here. The food is incredible, and wait until you see some of the views over the rooftops of the city. It’s really something.”
“You’ll have to show me some of your favorite spots,” I say.
He nods, looking pleased. “I will.”
