Page 70 of Every Time I Go on Vacation, Someone Dies

“Thank you, Mr. Smith. I am a fan. A very big fan.”

He smiles and moves his hand in a circular motion, inviting her to continue.

“The city of Pompeii was buried under the ash from the volcano. The excavations started in modern times and many wonders were uncovered. It was like a photograph of life. The bread was in the oven, the tables were set, the paintings were on the walls. It is from here that we know the most about the Roman way of life. Now, let us explore and you can see why over two million people come here every year.”

She leads us through the gates, and the BookFace Ladies fan out and start snapping photos on their phones.

It is impressive. A large town laid out with cobbled streets on a grid. You can even see the grooves from the chariots carved into the stone. The house walls are mostly intact, though most of the roofs are gone.

I don’t need to use my imagination to see what life must’ve been like here.

Right up until it stopped.

“In here, my friends!”

Sylvie leads us into a house—a mansion, even by today’s standards. Emily’s in front of me with Harper. Her face is still set in a sour expression.

“Do you know anything about that?” I say to Allison. “Emily and Connor?”

“Connor has a way of zeroing in on the next best thing.”

“I’ve noticed that.”

Allison raises a shoulder. “I heard he met her at Books by the Banks in Cincinnati.”

“She slept with him?”

“I assume.”

“That’s too bad.”

“Lots of people have made that mistake.”

“Right…” I stop. Despite the undercurrent of tension, it’s been nice talking to Allison today.

And okay, yes, maybe I’m also considering her as a suspect, but I do feel sorry for what I did to her, even though she seems fine with it.

I mean, not fine with it, fine with it, but what that therapist said. She’s let go and moved on, and she certainly seems happier than me.

I should acknowledge that. I should try to be a better person and take responsibility for some of the mistakes I’ve made.

For once in my life.

“I’ve never apologized to you, Allison. I wanted to say I’m sorry. For Connor. For all of it.”

“You didn’t know about me,” she says in a way that might be a question or a statement.

“I didn’t. There’s no way I would’ve done anything with Connor if I knew he was married. I’m not a cheater.”

“Are you sure?”

Oh God. Does she know about that?

“You never checked him out,” Allison continues. “If you’d googled him, you would’ve known he was married.”

“I was young and caught up. The minute I found out about you, I ended things.”

That plus the blackmail were enough to put an end to me and Connor.

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