Page 94 of First in Line
“That I was visiting relatives out of state. I took my laptop with me, so I’ll get to work. But I couldn’t tell her I was hopping on a plane to Italy to spend time with my almost ex-husband.”
“And why not?”
“Because she doesn’t know about you. None of my friends do. And I don’t want to explain everything that happened. Plus, she’s obsessed with Formula One.”
“Is she a fan of mine?” he wonders with a cocky smirk.
“She’s a forty-five-year-old lesbian who once said she’ll have your children if you ask. So, she might be your biggest fan, actually.”
“Bigger than you?”
“I’m not a fan. I’m a victim of your charms, that’s all.”
He laughs at that. “Let her know I’m touched by the compliment.”
“That would imply I tell her about you, which, again, I’m not doing, Jax.”
His version of whatever it is we’re doing is more involved than mine. I know he wants to get back together, and coming here probably makes him think I feel the same way.
Staring outside at the Italian landscape, I try to remember why this can’t happen. Everything used to be so clear in my head when I left him. It was still clear months ago, before I went to that hotel to meet him again.
But the more time I spend with him, the less I can remember why I had to leave.
“Can we… can we be discreet about this?” I hesitantly ask.
“About you being here?”
“Yes. Journalists are all over you—especially during the European season—and I don’t want my face plastered everywhere on some crappy tabloid.”
“Yeah, I understand. I’ll get into the hotel through the underground parking lot, and we’ll be sneaky the whole weekend.”
I’m not really sure why, but the sleeping arrangements never crossed my mind. It seems pretty obvious what he has planned, though. “Are we sharing your room?”
He gives me a confused glance. “Of course. Did you want your own room?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t think this through.”
After a long moment of pondering, he hesitantly says, “Every single hotel is fully booked at this point. But there’s a couch in my room, I guess I could—”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I chuckle. “We can share a bed. But we will be reasonable. The next three days will be intense enough for you as it is. No need to make your nights physical as well.”
“Let me be the judge of that, princess.”
His hand comes to my thigh, warm and familiar, and I allow myself to relax a little. This is fine. We can make this impromptu trip work. As long as we’re discreet, everything will be fine.
The playlist he has on throws me back to our days together. There are some new songs in there, but also a lot of old favorites. When the song I lost my virginity to comes on, I sense my face warming up a little.
“You know, I still can’t hear a Kendrick Lamar song without thinking about you,” I confess.
“Really?”
“Every single time,” I confirm with a nod.
The revelation brings a proud, satisfied smirk to his full lips. “I actually met him a few times.”
It shouldn’t surprise me. I know how famous he’s become, and the kind of parties or events he gets invited to. But all I can think of as my head whips around to look at him is the kid who got to meet his idol.
“Seriously?!”
