Page 25 of Every Time I Go on Vacation, Someone Dies

“Try again.”

“Oli, I’m sorry. You know I am. I’ve said it a million times.”

“And now it’s a million and one.”

“Does it make a difference?”

He looks at me now, really looks at me, and it’s hard for me not to turn away, not to wither under the weight of his gaze, out here in the blazing sun.

“I want it to,” he says.

Some of the tension in my body releases. “That’s something.”

“We’re going to be together for the next ten days, so…”

“It’s only eight, now.”

Shut up, El. Just shut up.

“You’re editing me?”

“No, sorry,” I say. “It just slipped out.”

He nods briefly, then looks past me to where Harper is walking slowly around the complex with Connor. “I hate that guy.”

“Me too.”

His eyes track back to mine. “Do you?”

“I wish I’d never met him. Or never written about him. Or both.”

“Then you wouldn’t be here.”

“Or know you. It’s the central paradox of my life.”

He laughs now, a good sound, the best sound. “I’m part of the central paradox of your life?”

“You didn’t know?”

“I’m flattered.”

“I should tell you, then, that my life is a mess.”

He laughs again, then puts his hands into his pockets. “You really didn’t know I’d be here? I thought Harper would’ve warned you.”

“She knows better.”

“Would’ve skipped it, hmmm?”

“Honestly? I don’t know. The last time… well, the last time took a lot out of me.”

He doesn’t say anything, and maybe that means it took a lot out of him, too.

The last time we were together was at the Salon du Livre in Montreal two years ago. We’d sat in a booth for hours signing books. For the first time in a long time, Connor wasn’t there, because he’d gotten a “better offer,” as he put it, which turned out to be some screenwriters’ conference in New Mexico. It had been a relief to do an event without him, and Oliver and I had spent hours joking about the questions the readers always asked.

But then, in the lobby bar, I’d had one too many drinks and kissed him. He’d kissed me back for long enough to make my knees go weak, then held my wrists firmly and moved my hands away from his face, and said, “That’s all over now.”

Then he left me sitting there while the bartender gave me a sad, knowing smile.41

---