Page 172 of Every Time I Go on Vacation, Someone Dies

“I meant on the phone.” He takes his phone out of his pocket and waves it at me.

“I’m embarrassed to say this, but I don’t think I have your number.”

“What?”

“I, uh… I deleted it.”

“Why?”

Come on, Oliver, you’re smarter than that.

Or has he forgotten the drunk texts I sent him in the middle of the night begging him to forgive me?

“I needed to before I did anything more to embarrass myself.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did.”

“Be that as it may…” He takes my phone and puts in my code. The screen unlocks. “Never changed your code?”

“Nope.”

“Trusting.”

“Yes.”

He smiles at me, then sends a quick text. “There you go, you texted me.”

“What did I say?”

“You’ll have to check to find out.” He kisses me quickly. “Be careful, El. I don’t want to lose you right after I found you again.”

Damn it.

You see? This is why I’m still in love with him.

Anyway.

I watch him walk toward Connor; then I check what he wrote.

I will never erase this number again.

I laugh out loud, catching the attention of a couple of the BookFace Ladies. I wave at them and hold my phone over my heart. He’s right, I hope.

But that’s the future. If I want to get there, I have to solve my past.

So up, up, up I go.

I take a ticket from Sylvie and walk into the bottom of the villa. It’s dark inside, the walls made of thick gray stone. There’s a museum, like she said, the artifacts and pottery set into illuminated niches and on plinths. It’s cooler in here, but airless, too.

But I’m not here for a history lesson.

I need to get up to somewhere I can think.

Which is weird when you think about it because I’m usually afraid of heights, as I’ve already established.

Maybe it’s the fear that clears my mind.

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