Page 91 of Ruined Vows
“I can’t believe I agreed to a three-daygetaway,” I whine, adding air quotes. “I don’t know where, I don’t know what, and I don’t like howokayI am with it.”
Joanne beams. “That’s called character development.”
“That’s called temporary insanity.”
The waiter brings over some bluefin tuna, compliments of the house, and I jab a piece like it’s the problem.
“He said to pack green.”
Joanne gasps. “You’ve bought the Ravella, right?”
I lift an eyebrow. “Would I be me if I didn’t?”
“I mean… are we talking Ravellaandbackless silk nightgown, or just Ravella and emotionally repressed sarcasm?”
“Both. Probably. And backup heels—so I can kill him when this goes terribly wrong.”
“Obviously,” she deadpans.
Then, she leans in. “What are you going to do withall that timealone with him?”
I nearly choked on my water. “Hopefully not him.”
“Bianca…”
“I’m serious.”
“No, you’relyingto yourself, and it’s adorable.”
I roll my eyes. “Look, I just—three days is a long time to keep him at arm’s length.”
Joanne smirks. “You planning to pack a chastity belt?”
“Don’t tempt me.”
She gives me a knowing look. “You think you can resist him that long?”
I start to say yes. Then I pause before muttering, “Shut up.” I chuckle.
Joanne shrieks with laughter. “You’re so doomed.”
“Okay, but what do I pack besides green dresses, weapons-grade perfume, and my own emotional damage?”
“Shoes that sayI might run,but probably won’t. Lingerie that screamsyou wish,and a swimsuit—because if there’s a pool, you need to ruin his brain cells.”
I blink. “You’re evil. I didn’t even think about a swimsuit. I know nothing about him. I have no idea what he likes to do. I need to do some research before we leave.”
“I’m a realist. And if you don’t come back glowing and slightly ruined, I’ll be personally offended because I live vicariously through you.”
“Thanks,” I reply sarcastically before I take another sip of my sake and dive into the sushi roll.
“And you’re more entertaining than a new movie release. I’m telling you, I should have brought that popcorn!”
I sputter.
Am I really that entertaining?
She’s a riot today, and she means that like it’s a compliment. And all the while, I’m trying to ignore the flutter in my chest that has nothing to do with the alcohol or the eel sauce laden with wasabi.
