Chapter 28 – Maura
MAURA
“You realize we’re taking a private jet,” James says. “You can pack more than one suitcase.”
He stands in the doorway, watching me sort through the pile of folded clothes on the bed. I've pulled all the warm weather clothing out of my wardrobe, and sorted it by pants, shirts, and dresses. Now, I'm pairing down my choices before I decide what goes in the single suitcase.
“I'm not going to pack more than I need,” I explain. “We’ll only be gone for a week.”
“But if you want to have options, nobody's going to stop you. Bring as much as you want. The jet could hold a hundred suitcases.”
“Are you here to brag about the size of your jet?” I waggle my eyebrows playfully.
“I’m here to remind you to pack a few dresses for dinner.”
I point to the pile of dresses on my bed. “Way ahead of you. I know how to pack a suitcase, you know.”
Truthfully, I haven’t had much practice packing, just because I haven’t traveled much.
When I was younger, my father took me to London and New York City a few times on his own business trips, but only after he had found heart specialists approved by Dr. Markovic and briefed them on my condition.
He paid them some exorbitant sum to keep them on call through the whole trip, to make sure I was safe.
This time, I’m traveling without an approved doctor waiting in the wings.
I did a little of my own research, making sure I had the name and number of twenty-four seven medical center on Paros.
Athens itself has an excellent hospital, but I'm taking a bit of a risk straying so far from a heart specialist.
If I asked James, I'm sure he'd hire a private doctor to travel with us so there would always be someone on call. That would be the smartest course of action. He’s seen my scar—at least, part of it—so he must suspect that I've had health problems.
James is still hovering in the doorway. I shoot him a questioning look. “What?”
“Did you get Taylor’s email about our itinerary?”
I nod. “He was very thorough, as always. I was a little disappointed it wasn’t color coded, though.”
“I’ll pass on the note.” James doesn’t laugh, but I can hear the humor in his voice. “You saw the menus, right? Did you send in any grocery requests?”
“I’m easy. I saw souvlaki on two different days, so I’m happy.”
“And you saw that my meetings in Athens will conflict with—”
“James,” I interrupt. “I read all the emails thoroughly, even though Taylor loves his run-on sentences. I’m prepared. And even if I wasn’t, we could be a little spontaneous.”
“Spontaneous,” he repeats, like the word is physically uncomfortable to hold in his mouth.
“Yes, James. That’s when you change your mind, or things don’t go according to plan, and you just wing it.”
He scowls. “I don’t ‘wing it.’”
“You will if we forget to pack sunscreen or aspirin or anything, or if we get lost on a path somewhere. We’ll be fine.”
“At least I looked up where the hospitals are, in case being spontaneous leads us down any unfortunate paths,” he mutters.
My head shoots up. “You what?”
“I looked up the hospitals. It’s good to know where to go in case of an emergency.”
“Right.” Relief and uncertainty twist in my brain.
It’s good that James has thought about medical care.
If my medications failed or anything happened, he could find someone to look after me.
But would he look up hospitals for a regular business trip, or is it because of me?
Does he suspect that there’s something wrong with me?
James shifts in the doorway. “Well, I better start packing myself.”
“Let me guess. You’re packing seven different suits.”
“What's wrong with suits?”
“They're not exactly vacation attire,” I scoff. “This is your time to let loose. Pull out that tacky Hawaiian shirt you've been dying to wear.”
“No such thing exists in my wardrobe,” he says disdainfully. “My wardrobe consists of business suits and gym-wear, so that's what I’ll pack.”
“That can't be all. You have a personal shopper, right?” He nods. “There's no way she didn't outfit you with a full wardrobe.”
“I know what’s in my own closet.”
“I very much doubt that. Let me check.” I stroll over to James's room and into his closet while he trails behind me. I've never been in his closet, I realize. It's one of those well-organized walk-ins that every wealthy man has, but that few appreciate.
“You see?” James says, gesturing around. “All suits.”
I start pulling open drawers, which are, of course, perfectly organized. Socks, gym shirts and shorts, underwear, pajamas…
“Ah-ha!” I pull out a pair of khaki shorts and hold them up triumphantly.
James’s brow furrows. “Where did those come from?”
“Your vacation fairy godmother. Behold, your vacation casual drawer.” I point inside. “Linen and khaki shorts, lightweight shirts, etc. Your personal shopper didn’t leave you hanging.”
“That drawer’s been here the whole time?” He sounds skeptical.
“Thank god it is, or the Greek sun would have withered you alive with your wool suits.”
“I know how to exist in warm temperatures, you know,” he sniffs. “I’m the CEO of a multinational media empire. I’m more than capable of dressing myself.”
“Apparently not. You don’t even know what’s in the drawers in your own closet.” I point to one I haven’t opened yet. “What’s in that one?”
He pinches his lower lip, thinking. “Socks?”
“Because you really need two separate sock drawers.” I pull it open and gasp. “Oh my god.”
“What?”
I hold up a tiny Versace thong. “This is your lingerie drawer.”
James’s eyes about pop out of his head. “My what?”
“Your personal shopper really gave you the full treatment. Everything you could possibly need to feel like your sexiest self. Thongs, silk boxers, robes…oh my god, James, you have to try this on.”
When I hold up the leather harness, James’s face turns a shocking shade of red. “Where does it go?”
“Around your shoulders. Come on! I’ll help!”
When I stand up, harness in hand, James takes three long steps backward. “I don’t want to think about why my wife knows how to put on a men’s leather harness.”
“Don’t be insane, I have no idea what I’m doing. But you’re ‘more than capable of dressing yourself,’ right? I’m sure between the two of us, we can figure it out.”
James points through the door. “Get out of my closet.”
I toss the harness back in the drawer and hold up my hands in defeat. “Fine. No harness. But you should at least try some of those silk boxers. They’re crazy soft.”
“Thanks for the advice on my undergarments.”
As I’m leaving the closet, his hand closes around my wrist, stopping me. “Do you have any reservations about this trip?”
“What do you mean?”
“I just mean, are you sure you want to go? Because if you have any reservations, it's fine if you want to stay here. I invited you because I wanted to, but you're under no obligation.”
I tilt my head, confused. I have no idea where this is coming from. Just a minute ago, I was happily packing away tank tops and sketchbooks. Did I say something to make him think I was second-guessing it?
I just shrug. “Life is too short to waste any of it, and I’ve always wanted to go to Greece.”
The frown on James’s face deepens. His lips part like he might say something, then he brushes his thumb over my inner wrist and releases my hand.
“Then we’ll go,” he says.
I walked back to my room, uncertain about the conversation we just had. Did James change his mind about the trip? Did he decide it was a bad idea, and did he hope I’d tell him to cancel it? Or is he getting more suspicious about my scar than I thought?
I rake my fingers through my hair. God, what a mess. I was so excited when James offered this trip. Greece was always a dream destination, and I’m dying to get access to stones that are only found there. But if James doesn’t want me to go, I should probably find an excuse to cancel.
Just then, my phone dings.
James
Bring sensible shoes. We’ll be doing a lot of walking.
I huff out a laugh. The man who can’t find his own shorts is offering me packing advice. Something he probably wouldn’t be doing if he hoped I’d cancel.
I head to the closet and snap a picture of my highest stiletto heels—the pair I wore once, because the blisters weren’t worth it.
Maura
Like these?
James
Those aren't shoes, those are torture devices.
Maura
I'll leave them here if you promise to pack the thongs.
James
Absolutely not.
Maura
Pretty please? You’re going to love the feeling of the wind on your butt.
James
If I did pack the thong, there would still be a secondary item of clothing separating the wind from my butt.
Maura
Not if you’re feeling spontaneous ;)
Greece seems like a great place to skinny dip.
James
I’m never skinny-dipping again. Once was enough.
Maura
WHEN DID YOU GO SKINNY-DIPPING???
James
On a need-to-know basis.
Maura
Well, I need to know!
James
Only Luke knows, and he swore he’d never tell.
Maura
I’ll get you to crack.
James
Never.
A smile creeps over my face as I keep packing my bags.