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I shake my head. “I don’t think you understand.”
He cocks a brow. “We can always take your SUV to Connecticut?”
I open my mouth, then close it again. I do like this car.
“Urgh! Enzo, you can’t make me repack at such late notice. That’s absurd.”
“We don’t have time for this. I need to get on the road to avoid peak traffic. Can’t Bianca help you?”
“She had to run some errands,” I wail. I spent all week putting outfits together.
He puts his hands on both hips and gives me a displeased look. “This isn’t a tragedy. Just condense it into the smaller one and let’s get going.”
I curse the day he was born as I drag my cases back inside to my office while trying not to have a panic attack. Keeping the smaller case, I unzip the larger one and begin rummaging around, pulling outfits out and matching shoes.
Enzo follows me in and stands there watching. “Why do women need so much shit?”
“We may be playing polo on Sunday, so I need a cute outfit, as well as options for drinks tonight and the reception tomorrow. Get with the program, Enzo. It’s a marathon, not a sprint.”
As he puts both hands in his pants pockets, his lips twitch.
“Polo?” He scoffs. “Have you ever ridden a horse?”
“I said I need acute outfit,not that I was going to play.”
I set aside my blow dryer, straightener, and one large makeup bag. It’s no use, I need to unzip the smaller case too.
His eyes meet mine when I pull out my lacy underwear and precariously throw it over the side, followed by a pink negligee. I bought it ages ago—it still has the tags on it—and thought it might be nice to wear it this weekend. Not that I intend on anyone seeing it, until now…
“Is this going to take much longer?” He looks impatient.
“I’m hurrying.”
I cast aside three outfits and two pairs of jeans… I mean, a girl never knows when she might need the perfect pair of butt lifters… they could be good for polo…
“I’m going gray here, V.”
“Keep your hair on,” I mutter, adding one pair of jeans back on the ‘keep’ pile as I compartmentalize what I can leave behind.
A few minutes later, his patience finally gives way. “I’m zipping up this case in three seconds.”
By now I’ve tipped the entire contents out, stuff spilling over the sides as he shakes his head in disbelief. The last thing I need is his judgment; it took long enough to whittle it down to two lousy cases.
He reaches down and picks up a pile of clothes, tossing them in the larger case. “You don’t need these.”
“Hey!”
Then he’s grabbing my blow dryer. “Your hair looks fine.”
I snatch it back from him. “That’s a Dyson supersonic, and it cost six hundred dollars and you’re just tossing it around like that.”
“If you paid six hundred dollars for a blow dryer, then I’d say you’ve finally cracked it.”
He reaches for another bag and my eyes go wide, my vanity bag… I go to grab it just as he hauls it his way.
“I need that!” I wail, tugging it as we wrestle.
“You don’t need all this crap…”
