Page 75 of Every Time I Go on Vacation, Someone Dies

“I was apologizing.”

“You were?”

“No need to sound so surprised.”

The car moves off the highway and onto a two-lane road that looks like it’s headed toward the Med. In a moment, the car takes a sharp turn, and now we’re driving along the edge of a cliff that goes down at least a thousand feet into rocks and crashing water.

“Wow,” I say, “that’s beautiful.” But it’s also kind of terrifying.

We’re both transfixed. We’re driving toward a town built into the cliff. The buildings are colorful, and the streets are tiered, surrounded by lemon trees. The water below is that blue you only seem to see in photographs, but here it is, real.

“It is,” Harper says.

“We’re lucky. I am.”

“I’m surprised to hear you say it.”

“I don’t say it enough. I don’t do a lot of things.”

“Such as?”

“Tell you how much I appreciate you. How important you are to me. How I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

She smiles sadly. “You did do it without me.”

“I am sorry about that. And maybe you’re right. Maybe I wouldn’t change it, but I can be sorry about it anyway. I can be sorry about what it did to you.”

“Are you?”

“Yes, of course. That’s what I’m trying to say.”

The car takes another sharp turn and Harper grips the handhold on the door like it might fly open and take her with it.

I reach out to steady her. “It’s okay, we’re safe.”

She’s a bit green around the edges. She’s never been good in cars, and we’re both afraid of heights. “I know.”

“No, Harper, I mean it. You’ll be okay, we’ll be okay.”

Her eyes connect with mine and I feel a rush of relief. It’s still there. The love between us, impossible to shake.

We’ll be okay. No matter what.

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because we’ve been through worse than this. Mom and Dad… We’re a success story, Harper. You and me against the world.”

“Then why do you want to change it? Just because of Connor? What’s the point of that? Look where we are right now. He gave us that.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think you should keep writing the series.”

“What? Why?”

“Because we have a good life. I know you think I should be doing something else. I feel your judgment, okay? But I’m happy being in your shadow. That’s what I was going to tell you when we got home. I’m not going to try to write anymore. No more torturing myself at five in the morning, tweeting about how I’m starting some new manuscript. I’m sick of it.”

“It’s your life, Harper, do what you want.”

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