yes, so there’s no need.”
In the coppery light from the street lamps, his gaze was steady, curious. “Then why did you say yes?”
Zelda and I used to build houses of cards together. A well-made house of cards actually stood pretty okay on its own. But because the construction material was so flimsy, and nothing held the structure together except prayer and careful placement, any kind of disturbance could bring it down—someone walking by too fast, a fridge door slamming shut, and once, a moving truck rumbling down the street.
Bennett’s question was such a disturbance. Faced with its friendly directness, the lies that I’d told myself in the Russian café came crumbling down. I had not agreed to help him out of altruism. Or sympathy. Or even greed.
It had been fear, pure and simple.
He was consumed by his quest. If I turned him down, he would find someone else. Tonight, perhaps. Tomorrow at the latest. Maybe Damaris would get the call, maybe someone more restrained in her public demeanor. But no matter who, in two weeks’ time, when he arrived in Italy, he would have a woman on his arm.
And the thought suffocated me. I would rather face far worse heartache later on than go home tonight with this huge weight on my chest, unable to breathe for the foreseeable future.
It was, without a question, the stupidest decision I’d made in a long, long time.
“Because I finally remembered that a million has six zeroes to it.”
His gaze remained unwavering. “You deal some dope bullshit, Professor. I admire that.”
“A perk of being a materials scientist: My bullshit is well made on the molecular level.”
He laughed softly. Then he leaned in and kissed me, a kiss of only our lips, gentle, unhurried, yet unbearably sexy.
Swoony.
He pulled away, looked at me another moment, and tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear. “Thank you,” he murmured. “It’s going to be one hell of an adventure.”
I WOULDN ’ T GO SO FAR as to speculate that Zelda had been listening at the keyhole, but she did pop out of the living room with tremendous alacrity as I walked in. “How was your evening, darling? Tell me everything!”
I omitted any and all mentions of kisses, but otherwise gave a truthful enough account, up until our departure from the wedding reception.
“So it happened. They finally ran into one another. Yes, my brilliant scheme worked.”
“ Your brilliant scheme?”
“Why do you think I’ve been encouraging you to take the Somerset boy to the reception?”
I felt like an idiot for not realizing this sooner: Zelda knew Bennett’s parents would be there. “And here I thought you just wanted me to date him.”
“That I can only want. This I can do something about. Now, tell me what happened afterward. Did the boy say anything?”
“He was quiet for a long time. I mean, the encounter was really unexpected—we were already leaving.”
That was a truthful enough answer.
“And then?”
Now the lying began. “And then he was mainly trying to convince me to let him join me in Munich.”
“Really?” Zelda blinked. “For the whole conference?”
“No, the conference ends on Thursday. He wants to come sightseeing with me that weekend.”
“And you said no?”
I grimaced, a genuine expression. “I should have but I didn’t. It’s not easy to keep saying no to the Somerset boy.”
Zelda took a moment to digest this. “This calls for a pot of tea. Chamomile?”
“You go ahead,” I told her. “I had enough tea tonight.”
Zelda disappeared into the kitchen. I was almost one hundred percent sure that she’d gone to check her calendar. Sure enough, when she returned, she said, “Not that I don’t love Bavaria, darling—beautiful place, had one of the best hikes of my life there—but the beginning of February is the wrong time of the year for Germany. Why don’t you go to Italy instead? The Amalfi Coast isn’t so crowded right now, and it’s ever so lovely.”
“Amalfi
In the coppery light from the street lamps, his gaze was steady, curious. “Then why did you say yes?”
Zelda and I used to build houses of cards together. A well-made house of cards actually stood pretty okay on its own. But because the construction material was so flimsy, and nothing held the structure together except prayer and careful placement, any kind of disturbance could bring it down—someone walking by too fast, a fridge door slamming shut, and once, a moving truck rumbling down the street.
Bennett’s question was such a disturbance. Faced with its friendly directness, the lies that I’d told myself in the Russian café came crumbling down. I had not agreed to help him out of altruism. Or sympathy. Or even greed.
It had been fear, pure and simple.
He was consumed by his quest. If I turned him down, he would find someone else. Tonight, perhaps. Tomorrow at the latest. Maybe Damaris would get the call, maybe someone more restrained in her public demeanor. But no matter who, in two weeks’ time, when he arrived in Italy, he would have a woman on his arm.
And the thought suffocated me. I would rather face far worse heartache later on than go home tonight with this huge weight on my chest, unable to breathe for the foreseeable future.
It was, without a question, the stupidest decision I’d made in a long, long time.
“Because I finally remembered that a million has six zeroes to it.”
His gaze remained unwavering. “You deal some dope bullshit, Professor. I admire that.”
“A perk of being a materials scientist: My bullshit is well made on the molecular level.”
He laughed softly. Then he leaned in and kissed me, a kiss of only our lips, gentle, unhurried, yet unbearably sexy.
Swoony.
He pulled away, looked at me another moment, and tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear. “Thank you,” he murmured. “It’s going to be one hell of an adventure.”
I WOULDN ’ T GO SO FAR as to speculate that Zelda had been listening at the keyhole, but she did pop out of the living room with tremendous alacrity as I walked in. “How was your evening, darling? Tell me everything!”
I omitted any and all mentions of kisses, but otherwise gave a truthful enough account, up until our departure from the wedding reception.
“So it happened. They finally ran into one another. Yes, my brilliant scheme worked.”
“ Your brilliant scheme?”
“Why do you think I’ve been encouraging you to take the Somerset boy to the reception?”
I felt like an idiot for not realizing this sooner: Zelda knew Bennett’s parents would be there. “And here I thought you just wanted me to date him.”
“That I can only want. This I can do something about. Now, tell me what happened afterward. Did the boy say anything?”
“He was quiet for a long time. I mean, the encounter was really unexpected—we were already leaving.”
That was a truthful enough answer.
“And then?”
Now the lying began. “And then he was mainly trying to convince me to let him join me in Munich.”
“Really?” Zelda blinked. “For the whole conference?”
“No, the conference ends on Thursday. He wants to come sightseeing with me that weekend.”
“And you said no?”
I grimaced, a genuine expression. “I should have but I didn’t. It’s not easy to keep saying no to the Somerset boy.”
Zelda took a moment to digest this. “This calls for a pot of tea. Chamomile?”
“You go ahead,” I told her. “I had enough tea tonight.”
Zelda disappeared into the kitchen. I was almost one hundred percent sure that she’d gone to check her calendar. Sure enough, when she returned, she said, “Not that I don’t love Bavaria, darling—beautiful place, had one of the best hikes of my life there—but the beginning of February is the wrong time of the year for Germany. Why don’t you go to Italy instead? The Amalfi Coast isn’t so crowded right now, and it’s ever so lovely.”
“Amalfi
Similar Books
