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I narrow my eyes. “Are you sure? That hardly seems like a safe place for our passports.”
“I only put them in there a week ago. Chill.” He takes a deep breath. “We have to go.”
We hurry through the house, say a quick goodbye to Prue, and head out through the garage.
We pass my Mini Cooper, a birthday gift from Xander, and head to his truck. He’s had the same truck for years. He could upgrade, but he loves it.
He opens the passenger door for me, and I climb inside.
I check the glove box for our passports and they’re thankfully there, so I pull them out and set them in my lap.
Xander starts the car and winces when he sees the time.
“Why’d you schedule our flight so close to the end time of my graduation?” I ask him. “It seems like you’ve caused yourself a whole lot of unnecessary stress.”
“Because it was the last flight of the day for this location and there wasn’t another one for two days—and if I gave you that long you’d think of some very important reason for us not to go and I’d give in. I figured the less time you had to make up an excuse the better.”
My lips twitch with the threat of laughter. “That’s funny.”
“I’m serious,” he says, speeding down the road.
“I know,” I agree. “That’s why it’s funny.”
Xander presses the gas down and drives way too fast than is legally safe, but we manage to make it to the airport in record time and without getting pulled over.
Xander pulls a blindfold from his pocket. “Sorry, Thea,” he mutters, reaching to put it on me.
I smack his arm away. “Don’t you dare come anywhere near me with that thing,” I warn him.
He narrows his eyes. “Yes, because if I don’t then you’ll know exactly where we’re going in about five minutes, and that’s no fun.”
I groan. “Honestly, this honeymoon is coming with way too many stipulations. Give me the damn blindfold.” I snatch it from his hands and his lips twitch with amusement. “You’ll mess up my hair if you put it on me,” I defend. I slip the blindfold on and frown at the complete blackness. “I swear to God if you let me run into a wall I’ll not speak to you the whole vacation.”
He laughs. “Like you could go that long without talking.”
I hear him open the car door. “Fine, then you better learn how to give yourself blowjobs. I hope you’re a contortionist.”
He snickers. “I love you.”
“Right now I hate you.”
His car door closes and mine opens a moment later. I feel shaky as he helps me out of the car into the parking garage. It’s disorienting not being able to see a thing.
“Stay here,” he warns, and I’m sure he’s holding his hands out in a placating manner.
“Xander?” I call out. “How are you going to guide me and wheel both our suitcases?” He’s silent. “You didn’t think about that, did you?”
“Of course I did,” he replies, his voice spiking—a telltale sign that he’s lying.
“I’m gonna die,” I mumble to myself.
Finally, he says, “You’re going to have to wheel your suitcase.”
“What if I trip over it?” I counter.
“Your legs aren’t tied together, Thea. You can walk fine.” He sighs in exasperation.
I sigh too. “If I die, I want to be buried in that ivory dress I love and my six-inch black Louboutins? Okay?”
