Page 44 of Our Chaotic Love Affair

I sounded crazy. Maniacal. I sat in the dark of my apartment at three in the morning laughing by myself like a person who’d genuinely lost it, because what? Who does that? Cash Bancroft just called me from Rome and told me a driver was coming in forty-seven minutes and I should pack for the plane like that was a normal sequence of events that happened to normal people.

It took me about ninety seconds to remember that for Bancrofts, it probably was.

I pressed my hand over my mouth and made myself breathe. Okay. Options. I had options.

I could text him and tell him I couldn’t hop on a plane in the middle of the night. I had responsibilities. I had things to do. Flying to Rome on less than an hour’s notice was crazy. It was objectively insane. I had a job. I had a best friend getting married in less than four weeks. I had approximately three hundred things on my to-do list, none of which were flying to Rome.

I picked up my phone to text him exactly that. Except what if I did the crazy thing? What if I hopped on a plane with a basic carry-on?

Everything will be ready for you at the hotel.

What hotel? What did that mean, everything? What was everything? Was there a wardrobe situation? Was there a plan? What was he doing that required me specifically? And why was it so urgent?

I sat with the not-knowing for approximately fifteen seconds. Then I threw back the covers.

“Okay,” I said to my empty bedroom. “Fuck it.”

I was in the shower before I could stop myself. I could say with almost certainty I would never get the chance to do something like this again. When offered the chance to go to Rome, take it.

My shower took all of about sixty-two seconds. I hit the hotspots, conditioned my hair, and brushed my teeth while the spray rinsed my hair.

I dried off and dressed in leggings and a hoodie, then packed in record time. I grabbed the most important things first. Makeup. Panties. Bras. And then I added a couple dresses. I had no idea what I was going to be doing there.

And then it dawned on me. I didn’t even know how long I was going to be there. These were details he should have told me. I didn’t have time to stop and text because I trusted him when he said the car would be arriving in twenty-two minutes now.

Clothes packed. Carry-on packed with my camera tucked inside. I felt like Cyclone Cleo by the time I wheeled my suitcase to the door. I was outside my building with my bag over my shoulder with four minutes to spare.

I was still breathing hard when a black car pulled up to a stop. The driver hopped out and grabbed my suitcase. He was either my ride or a thief.

“Ms. Quinn?” he asked.

“That’s me,” I said with relief.

I got into the back seat and exhaled, trying not to think what was waiting for me at the end of this car ride. My driver informed me we were heading to catch a flight at JFK.

I spent the ride with my face turned toward the window and my thoughts doing laps. The lights blurred past and I tried to figure out if I was doing something brave or something stupid. Either way, it was reckless. I looked like a girl who did this kind of thing all the time, but really, I was a pretty steady person.

Then again, the best memories were usually made with spontaneous decisions. I so hoped I didn’t end up regretting this. Traveling alone was terrifying. And I had no idea what to expect in Rome.

My driver dropped me off and once again unloaded my suitcase. The first-class check-in was absurdly easy. That had to be a good sign. I was through security and at the gate with enough time to get a coffee and send the text to Melody I’d been composing in my head since the car.

Me: Before you panic, I’m fine. Everything is fine. I’m at the airport.

I sent the message and started another one. No one wanted to read a book the second they opened their eyes.

Me: Cash called. He booked me a ticket. I’m waiting to board a flight to Rome. I will text you when I land.

I put my phone down and sipped my coffee.

The adrenaline was waning. I grabbed my phone again, texting Cash this time.

Me: Can you give me any information? Like, I don’t know. How long am I going to be there? What am I doing there? You didn’t tell me what to pack, so I have no idea if I packed right.

Cash: You’re fine. Enjoy your flight. See you soon.

I rolled my eyes. Such a man. Did he not understand how important it was to pack the right outfits? He better believe I was going to be counting on him to buy me what I needed.

I sighed, knowing I wasn’t going to get a better explanation from him until I joined him on another continent. When my phone vibrated in my hand, I expected it to be Cash. It was Melody Facetiming me.