Page 44 of Every Time I Go on Vacation, Someone Dies

Before I can say anything, she’s up and out of her chair, pressing her face next to mine. She smells like hotel soap and an aftershave I’d recognize anywhere—Connor’s.

She holds the phone out from us, raises it, and snaps a picture. She checks it on her phone. “Perfect. I’m texting her now. She’s going to die.”

See what I mean about the violent metaphors?

Once you notice, they’re everywhere.

“I can sign something for you if you like. For her.”

“Maybe at the signing in a couple of days?” She plops down in her seat as she sends a text.

“You’re coming to that?”

“Connor invited me.”

“You didn’t have your own plans?”

“She did,” Connor says. “But she changed them.”

I try to think of something cutting to say but come up empty.

Instead, I angle my body away from him so his arm doesn’t brush against mine, a move that doesn’t get past Oliver. I look away from him and go back to perusing my suspects.

Harper’s talking to Guy about the Colosseum, and Emily’s staring at me over the rim of her glass, trying to make out what I meant by the When in Rome comment, I assume.

Did she honestly think I wouldn’t notice that she stole my plot?

I mean, I didn’t, but I would’ve if I’d ever read her book.

I drain my glass as the waiters enter with the first course.

“What’s this?” Shek asks, poking his fork around the dish with a look of disgust.

“Grilled octopus and artichokes, sir, with olive oil.”

“Oh, no,” Isabella says. “We can’t eat octopus.”

“Why not?” I ask.

“Because they’re so intelligent,” Emily says. “It’s like eating a human.”

“Surely not exactly like eating a human,” Oliver says, and Allison snorts into her glass. Unlike most of the people at this table, she seems to be thoroughly enjoying herself.

I wonder how she does it.

No way I’d spend time with someone who slept with my husband, no matter how innocently.

Emily pushes her plate away. “Well, I won’t eat it.”

“Wait!” Isabella says, pointing her fork at Emily. “I know who you are! You’re Emily. @EmilyBooks!”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Your book is, like, everywhere.”

“Thank you.”

“I haven’t read it yet. But I will.”

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