Page 63 of The Work Wife

“Certainly. Please come with me. I have them set aside.”

Mr. Witmer’s eyebrows rose in surprise as they entered the next room where ten suitcases were lined up. All of them purple—Jamie’s favorite color.

“Per your request they are arranged by quality. There are only two options missing from the selection; both are not being recommended due to poor customer reviews and returns. I could certainly add them if you wish.”

“This is a gift for my wife. I don’t want anything junky.”

“Then I would suggest any of these three pieces. I’ve printed out a list of options for each.” She handed over the paperwork and Wes flipped through them, scanning the features to see if any of them lacked something Jamie should have. He needn’t have looked, because the woman went over the differences between them.

“I like this one with the circle pattern. I think Jamie would like it and it would be easy to spot in baggage claim.”

“Excellent choice, sir. It’s a six-piece set, complete with a toiletry bag.”

“What do you think?” Wes turned to Mr. Witmer.

“I have no idea what to think. The last time I needed a suitcase I walked into Target and picked up the first black one I saw. I’ve had it for twelve years.”

“Your daughter must not have your care for luggage. She nearly busted the wheel off her suitcase and now she practically carries it since it doesn’t roll.”

“Used to be, we all carried our luggage.” This comment earned a shudder from the personal shopper.

“Are you saying Jamie should have to carry her luggage? We’re going to be in Jamaica for nearly a week. It will probably weigh as much as she does.”

“No,” the man conceded.

“If you’re afraid I’m spoiling her, please let me know,” Wes joked. As tough as Chris Witmer was, he took care of his princess. “Would you be able to put a bow on the handle?” Wes apparently had the same affliction.

One thing was certain, he didn’t expect the purple luggage with the circles to do a damn bit of good toward cheering her up after she heard the news about her father. But it would make her smile for another day at least.

“I wasn’t expecting to like whoever would eventually marry my daughter,” Mr. Witmer said as they left the store to go home. Wes could have sworn the older man had choked up. “I’m glad you’re here for her. I know you’ll take care of her.”

“Until my last breath, I promise.” It was an easy promise to make. It didn’t take a vow or a marriage license. It didn’t take love or sex. His promise came from the years they’d spent together and the bond of friendship they’d forged.

He would always take care of Jamie. And he knew Jamie would always take care of him.

* * * *

The lasagna was just about to come out of the oven when her dad and Wes came through the door.

Wes was pulling a purple suitcase, and when she saw the bow she realized it wasn’t for him. Maybe the purple part should have clued her in.

“Surprise!” Wes said.

“You got me a present? You shouldn’t have done that.” He really shouldn’t have. She was already squatting in his house.

“I don’t want to have to carry your broke-ass suitcase around Jamaica,” Wes explained, but had he just been concerned about replacing her broken suitcase, any old thing would have sufficed. He wouldn’t have gone out of his way to get a fancy one in her favorite color.

“Thank you.”

“It’s a six-piece set, complete with a toiletry bag,” her father added with a smirk.

There must be a story there, but she didn’t care enough to ask. At that moment the timer went off. “Time for dinner. Come sit down.”

She heard some mumbling from the other room, but they quieted when she came in bearing her culinary offerings.

“How’s the lasagna?” Jamie asked when Wes and her dad had taken their third bite.

“It’s actually good,” her father said in surprise.