Chapter 11
Eleven
John finished his breakfast in four bites. “So Lisa’s your college roommate Melissa?”
Vivian nodded as she devoured her sandwich. Good. Her outlook on life improved tenfold when she sat down to eat for five minutes.
“So she’s the one who comforted you after your bad freshman-year breakup. And she was homesick until you took her to a late-night bistro and stuffed her with brie and merlot.”
“Yep.” She thumbed a curl behind her ear. “She’s a good example of me telling you the basic truth while changing the window dressing. I’m surprised you remembered those details.”
“Why? I hang on everything you say.”
She tilted her head. “Really?”
“Really. Lisa’s also the friend who took you on vacations with her family, right?”
“Yes. I’m impressed. She brought me as a buffer so her parents wouldn’t grill her about grades. It was educational for me, too—their wealth showed me how the one percent live.”
“I get that. My parents—and sometimes Thomas and I—were invited to ceremonies and dinners that obviously cost a fortune. So I’m comfortable with people with power and wealth, even though it’s not anything I’ll personally have.
” He swigged his orange juice. “Did it bother you to be around money since you had to scrape to get by?”
“Are you kidding? Down with capitalism and all that, but I loved skiing in Vail and yachting in Cannes on someone else’s dime.”
“Patrick took me to go-karting once. Basically the same thing, right?” He crumpled his sandwich wrapper and pitched it into the trash bin.
“Obviously.” She finished her sandwich. “Anyway, those trips were excellent training for what I do today. The luxury, but also understanding what motivates people, how they tick. Not to brag, but I had you figured out after a month.”
The hair on his nape rose. He’d wanted to figure her out, too. Normal couple stuff, though. How to make her laugh, relax, which parts of her body to stroke to make her sigh with pleasure. But a spy had been analyzing him, assessing him…
“Never mind.” She wiped the air between them. “Shouldn’t have said that.”
“Oh, no you don’t.” He wiggled his fingers like Bruce Lee inviting an opponent to fight. “Out with it. What’d you figure out?”
“You’ve got abandonment issues.” She lifted a shoulder. “Most people do.”
He knitted his brows. “No, I don’t.”
“John, you invited me to move in after six months and proposed after a year.”
His skin prickled. “Because I fell in love.”
“I’m not saying the timing was wrong.” She touched his knee. “But it was fast. I’m guessing it stems from moving around so much as a kid. You crave routine. The same coffee shop every day, same route to work, laundry on Sundays.”
He rolled his shoulders to shake off feeling like he was a painting under a museum’s picture light. No, not a picture light. Those were low wattage. More like a spotlight.
“Routines are efficient,” he said. “People thrive on them. Is there more?”
She closed one eye and contemplated him. “Sure you want me to continue?”
He folded his arms. “Yes.”
“Okay. You think you’re easygoing.”
“Because I am. When do I argue with anyone?”
“You’re arguing with me now.”
“Because you accused me of being an asshole.”
“Oh my God, you’re so dramatic.” She rubbed her forehead.
“The opposite of easygoing isn’t asshole, it’s rigid.
Meal times, sleep schedules, pillow quality, arriving five minutes early to everything—as long as those needs are met, you’re happy.
But if they aren’t, you lose it. Therefore, not easygoing. ”
He clamped his jaw to stop an automatic denial.
“If I’m so terrible, why’d you say yes?”
She tossed her balled-up sandwich wrapper at him. “Add hyperbolic to the list.”
He squeezed the sandwich wrapper ball. “But you didn’t list any good things. My nurturing side, my sense of humor, my ability to fix anything. Where were those?”
“You’re impossible.” She giggled, then covered her eyes and peeked through her fingers. “You might also have anxiety.”
He tossed her crumpled ball back at her. “That you caused by noticing things about me.”
Grudgingly, he could admit he’d hit the gas on moving their relationship to the next level. She’d seemed too good to be true, and he’d wanted to make them permanent. When someone gets you, sees you, from the start, it’s pure magic.
He’d gotten her, too.
Or so he’d thought. The cold shock of her confession had numbed him. But over these last couple of days… He’d thawed as he rediscovered her. The reasons he fell for her in the first place were there, just wrapped in this new layer.
“You never answered my question.” He reached for her left hand, then rubbed his thumb along the sapphire. “Why’d you say yes?”
“For the same reason you asked. I was in love.”
The past tense stung. “Was?”
He shifted closer to her, pressed his thigh to hers.
“Am, John. All of that—us—is real.”
He brushed his lips against hers, then sighed. Her familiar feel, taste and tiny moans… His heart pulsed in his chest, his ears, his hips. This was like coming home. He didn’t know how he’d explain their situation to his family, but he needed to keep Vivian in his life.
Light blazed into the room.
“Whoops!” Lisa closed her eyes and walked forward. “Sorry. I come bearing clothes.”
“Lis, stop.” Vivian took a bag from her outstretched hand. “You’ll give yourself a concussion if you walk around with your eyes shut. Here, John. This bag’s for you.”
“We’ll give you privacy,” Lisa said. “Vivian and I need a girl chat.”
Lisa grabbed Vivian’s hand and dragged her toward the door. “Jane” had told him subtlety was not her college roommate’s strong suit. Looked like that was true, too.
* * *
“I can’t believe you picked red.” Vivian sat on the toilet’s closed lid as the hair dye seeped into her strands. “That’s like, the one color I should avoid.”
“It’s not red. It’s Ruby Rush. And with your coloring, platinum’s the one to avoid. Now, what’s up with John? I saw the ring and the kiss, but you have super weird vibes.”
“On Friday he asked me to marry him—”
Lisa squealed and pumped her fist.
“Don’t get excited.” She tugged the pashmina around her shoulders. “He broke up with me when I told him everything about my job and who I really am.”
“Then he’s a fool. You’re amazing. I’ll leave him in storage while you skedaddle.”
“I appreciate the false imprisonment offer, but no thanks.” A sigh shuddered from Vivian. “I don’t know what that kiss was about, or the one at the riad, or what’s going on between us.”
Being around her bestie meant she could be squishy, so she let the tears flow.
“Oh, honey.” Lisa gathered her in a hug. “What about the riad? No, never mind. We’ll put a pin in that. But he can’t be serious about a breakup.”
“He is. He says he can’t be with someone who works for the CIA because I’ll always put the job before him. That I lied to him for a year. Can you believe him? Twenty-two thousand people work there, and that doesn’t even include contractors. Are we all untouchable?”
Breakfast was a brick in Vivian’s stomach.
She wasn’t quitting. The importance of the work made her important. Without it, she’d be… Normal. Like her former mentor, Ann, a mother of five who’d taken early retirement after a suffering a heart attack. Six months later, over lunch, Ann moaned that punching out of the inner circle was torture.
Message received.
But then Vivian met John. Over the past year, her vision of her future changed. Every version, every universe, every plan—he was her partner, her safe harbor.
Except he hated her career, and she couldn’t have both.
“To be fair—” Lisa rubbed her shoulder “—he’s probably not opposed to dating, like, a human resources manager. Your work’s mission-driven. And lying to someone—”
“I wasn’t allowed to tell him.”
Lisa handed her a tissue. “I say this with love. Cut the bullshit. You were scared to tell him and withheld basic truths about yourself for a year. That’s not great.”
“This is a shitty pep talk.”
“Real friends are real. But here’s the peppy part. He loves you. He’ll come around.”
Vivian laughed into her tissue. “Now who’s bullshitting?”
“Not me.” Lisa shook her head. “The way he looks at you? Please. That’s how I look at a charcuterie board. True love. But…does he know about Rocksy?”
Vivian bit her lip. “No.”
“Then that’s the final frontier. Tell him.”
“I’ll consider it.” Vivian eyed the stiff shopping bag in the corner. “What’d you get me? It’s not a Chanel sheath like last time, is it?”
“No, I was much more practical. How do you feel about a Golden Girls–esque caftan?”
“Terrible.” Vivian dug into the bag and withdrew cerulean linen.
“Someday you’ll understand the caftan’s allure. Today’s outfit is a wide-legged halter jumpsuit with pockets deep enough to smuggle a baby and your beloved Hokas.”
Satin shimmered from the bag. “Underwear, too. You think of everything.”
“Indeed I do.” Lisa opened the door. “Toiletries are under the sink. And Viv, seriously. It’ll all work out. If it doesn’t, we’ll take a girls’ trip to Amalfi to drown your sorrows in pasta.”
“Thanks, Lis.”
Lisa lifted a shoulder. “You’d do the same for me.”
Lifelong friends were a treasure.
After Lisa shut the door, hope formed a crack in the shell around Vivian’s heart.
Please let Lisa be right about John.
Her phone’s timer beeped. After a vigorous shampooing, she changed into the jumpsuit, gathered her now-red damp hair into a low ponytail, then slipped into thick-soled cream Hokas.
Legit heaven, like walking on air.
After she emerged from the bathroom, Lisa thrust a coffee at her.
Vivian sighed. “What did I do to deserve a fairy godmother?”
“Never made me feel like an asshole when you taught me how to do basic shit my parents’ staff always did for me.”
“You could’ve picked it up from TikTok.” Vivian sipped the best cappuccino of her life. “Bitch, there’s no way this is your everyday coffee.”
“It is.” Lisa swiped her card on the storage room door. “I’m a lucky woman.”
As they opened the door, John finished buttoning up the short-sleeved collared shirt Lisa had procured. The fit was slim and hugged his biceps, same as his jeans. Those were snug enough that the vague outline of his Zippo in his front pocket was visible.
The clothes weren’t the star of the show, though.
Swoon. His beard, much as she’d loved it, had hidden a perfect jawline and cheekbones.
“I like your face,” she said. “It’s like I’m seeing the real you.”
Good Lord. She’d actually said that. If any of her colleagues heard the girlish squeal in her voice, they would tease her more than her siblings had.
“Same. I like the red. It suits you.”
Fifty-fifty that he meant the blush blooming in her cheeks.
“Ready to go?” she asked. “Ferry leaves in twenty minutes. You can have shotgun since you’ve never been here.”
True, but also, Lisa drove like a maniac, and she didn’t have the stomach for it today.
Ten minutes later, after a whirlwind commute through neighborhoods stuffed with low beige buildings and palm trees, they arrived at the port.
Lisa hugged her awkwardly from the front seat. “Call me when things settle, okay?”
“I will,” she said.
“Nice to meet you, Lisa,” John said.
“Likewise. Also, Jane is great. Stay engaged.”
“Lisa,” she hissed. “I’m leaving before this gets more awkward.”
Vivian escaped the Citroen C3. Cackling, Lisa beeped twice, then careened out of the drop-off area.
“Sorry. See what I mean about her brashness?” She shrugged her backpack onto her shoulders and turned to John.
The shock of his bare handsome face sent an ill-advised sizzle between her thighs.
“I liked her.” John scratched at the back of his head. “Listen, about the kiss—”
A boarding announcement played over the loudspeaker, interrupting him and saving her from having this conversation on the streets of Tangier. She wasn’t sure when they’d have it.
“We’d better go,” she said.