“Who?” I mumble.
My love seems a little too happy about this scandal, whoever it involves.
“You been watching Housewives again?”
“No, the couple who were meant to be getting married tomorrow afternoon. The wedding's off. She caught him fingering one of the bridesmaids. Apparently it's been going on for a while.”
I rub my eyes, processing this flurry of information.
His sigh is impatient.
“It's too late for them to get a refund. Roz is taking care of things. Calling the venue, the florist, the photographer. So… guess who has the entire weekend free?”
Now the puzzle pieces begin to click into place.
“Wait. You don't have to go anywhere?”
“Nope. And neither do you. I emailed Vonnie and told her you have some kind of stomach flu. She's rescheduling all your bookings for today and tomorrow.”
He’s very proud of himself.
It’s kind of adorable.
“You're a sneaky one, aren't ya?” I wrestle him into a hug. “Vonnie really fell for that?”
“A teeny tiny white lie,” he says. “But how often do we get four days off in a row?”
“Almost never.”
Our weekends are usually Monday and Tuesday.
Marco whispers in my ear.
“Then take me somewhere…”
I lift my head from the pillow.
“Where would you like to go?”
“I don’t know.” His pauses. He’s daring himself to say it. “Let's just... see what happens.”
This is a man who usually has every detail of his life scheduled down to the minute.
“We could drive down the coast,” he suggests. “Just you and me.”
I can’t decide whether I want to kiss him or check his temperature.
“YousaidI should be spontaneous. So say yes, before I change my mind.”
He gives me a playful shove.
I can’t find the words.
“Throw some clothes in a suitcase, gorgeous boy. We’ll figure out accommodation and food when we get there.”
And then he says the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.
He picks up his beloved planner from the bedside table.
