Page 51 of Our Chaotic Love Affair

The content would be unreal. The reach would be more than anything I could have imagined. I turned away from him and walked to the side table. The cheese spread was impressive.

“Is this why you asked if I liked cheese?” I mused.

He chuckled. “I was going to have to make a call and get something else in here if you didn’t.”

“Who doesn’t like cheese?”

“Lactose intolerant people.”

I snatched a chunk of cheddar and chewed. “They like cheese, their bodies don’t.”

“Same thing.”

I needed something to do with my hands while I processed the deeply irritating realization that Cash Bancroft had outmaneuvered me with logic. He was presenting my future on a silver platter. I may have jumped to conclusions and overreacted a touch.

I picked up a cracker. Added brie. Added a grape because the grape was there and it seemed like a really good combination. I ate the whole thing in two bites while staring at a point on the wall above the armoire.

“Well?” he said from behind me.

“I’m thinking.”

“Take your time.”

I reached for another cracker. “You could have led with that, you know. The part about the skills. Instead of just saying ‘my fiancée’ and letting me stand there like an idiot. I thought it was another Summer Situation.”

He groaned. “That mistake is why I’m here. Trust me, I’ve learned my lesson.”

“Have you?”

“Yes, and for the record, you weren’t standing there like an idiot. You were making valid points.”

“And you let me go for a full five-minute crash-out in front of an audience before telling me what you actually meant.”

“I wanted to hear what you had say.”

I turned to look at him. He was leaning against the armoire with his arms folded, watching me with an expression that was somewhere between patient and entertained. I thought very briefly about throwing a grape at him. He looked just a little too smug for my liking. But I supposed he had good reason to.

“I have conditions,” I said.

His mouth twitched. I could tell he was trying not to smile and that irritated me. Made me feel ridiculous. “Name them.”

“Shopping spree. All expenses paid. Before I go home, I want at least a half day in this city spending your money on things that have nothing to do with the event. I want clothes. Real honest-to-god Italian leather shoes.”

“Done.”

“And I want to see the Colosseum. I did not get my ass up in the middle of the night and fly ten hours to not get to see the most amazing piece of architecture.”

“Also done.”

“I’m serious about the Colosseum. Private tour. Not a group thing where I have to stand behind someone’s grandfather with a selfie stick. No big groups with cameras hanging from their neck. Just me and history.”

“I’ll arrange it.”

I studied him for a moment, looking for the catch. There wasn’t one that I could see, which was either reassuring or more suspicious than any catch would have been.

“Fine,” I said. “I’m in.”

I stuck out my hand.