Page 97 of Only One Tour Bus

And the way he cares for me, making sure I eat and rest with a belligerence that doesn’t usually accompany that task. But it makes him that much more precious to me.

I can’t even be surprised at my love because it feels so right. Even if it isn’t smart.

Not that I have ever let practicality stop me from enjoying things.

But what am I going to do when one of us is fired at the end of the tour?

We meet the group for pizza, and everyone is much happier now that the sun has started to go down. Still exhausted, and a bit more red than they started the day because of their adventures in the sun, but happy to be eating pizza in Italy.

After, we go to a bar with the people who want to go out. I usually like this part of the job, socializing with a group of interesting people. But lately, with Callum, all I do is count down the time until we can be alone in one of our hotel rooms. I nod at the tourists’ stories, and lift my wineglass to my mouth, drink, put it down, and repeat.

But the entire time, I want to be alone with Callum. With the man I love.

I’ve never been in love before, and even though my first instinct is to shout it out to the world, so all our tourists, all the tourists in the city, the few locals that stayed behind during the summer heat, and Callum, of course, can hear.

But I don’t know how it will be received by any of those parties, most importantly Callum. It’s not like we’ve talked about a future. And maybe he isn’t as charmed by my whimsy as I think he is. Maybe he’s irritated by it and is ignoring said irritation for the benefits of a tour romance, but he doesn’t mean it to last past Rome any more than any tourist means their travel romance to last.

When the group moves on to another bar, I grab Callum’s hand and tug him toward the hotel, our duty done for the day. There’s only two more nights until the tour is over; I’m choosing to not say anything until at least then. So even if I’ve read this wrong and Callum doesn’t care about me, I get a few last nights together to savor when I’m alone.

“Does everyone have their things? You’re going to be across an ocean soon, so this is your last chance to check rooms.” I struggle against a yawn, holding it in until I end the sentence at least. Then I immediately turn and bury my yawn behind my elbow, hoping people think it’s a strange sneeze.

“Unless the thing you forgot is your passport. Then you won’t be crossing any oceans for a while,” Callum says. I know he’s being entirely serious, which makes it even funnier to me.

Too bad I can’t enjoy it because I am hungover and so. Very. Tired.

The last day was a whirlwind of activity. We dropped the group off at the Vatican and had fun at the Villa Borghese, looking at historic art in a stunning building, then walking through fountains, groves, and water features under the punishing Roman sun. There may not have been any ostriches, peacocks, or swans walking the grounds anymore, but there were a lot of tourists, making for just about as interesting entertainment.

Then it was last night and everyone wanted to go out. There were clubs, bars, and late night/early morning pizza. And no leaving early either, since it was the goodbye party. But everyone was happy; even the parents who hate us seemed to have a good time and brought their kids to the bar and let them have some supervised drinks.

Then after we all went back to the hotel, there were early-morning shenanigans with Callum in the privacy of my hotel room.

Which means I have had approximately one hour of sleep. This morning, I put some eye drops in and hoped my mirror was lying, and that I didn’t look as worn down as I feel.

The ride to the airport is quiet. Not completely quiet, because I can hear the snores of our wonderful, also tired group.

But the ride is fast, and soon we’re waving off our tour babies as they head for the security line. The goodbyes are bittersweet, and I exchange social media information with whoever wants it. Callum even looks sad to see them go, saying goodbye with genuine regret. I think.

After we’re sure everyone is safely through security, we check ourselves in.

I fall asleep on Callum’s shoulder on the flight back to Edinburgh. But it’s a fitful sleep. Because as lovely as this tour turned out to be, now the clock is counting down to the meeting with Rob, where one of us is going to be fired.

CHAPTER 42

CALLUM

The weather in Edinburgh is cloudy and rainy, and I try not to think of that as an omen. Not that I’m one to believe in such things, but I’ve been calling Asha Wee Sunshine this whole trip, and now I’ve flown from sunny Italy to rainy Scotland.

Is this a metaphor for my future? A life without her shining down on me is intolerable. A life without being able to love her, watch as she gets more and more absurd, is intolerable. As is how maudlin she’s made me, so I’m in a lose-lose sort of situation.

The whole thing is affecting Asha too, which makes me mad. She’s not made one joke since we landed. Not one wee chuckle.

Her backpack is still absurd, but she’s wearing solid colors…and those colors are black and gray.

Who is this woman?

This mix of anger and concern may not be the best frame of mind to approach a meeting with the boss where my future is at stake. But there’s nothing we can do about it now, as we’re getting off the tram and making the silent walk to the office, the only sound our suitcases rolling on the sidewalk.

“Last chance to leave all of this and go find some ruins to squat in for the rest of our lives,” I say, standing in front of the office and looking at the charming medieval building that doesn’t carry any of its charm into the interior decoration. I try the joke since she’s still unwilling to fulfill her proper role in this twosome.