Page 13 of Space Balls: Houston, We Have Liftoff
Remembering him looking at my notes, I have a feeling Ian knows exactly why I’m here. I play dumb, leaning against the church pillar. “This is a beautiful church. A top sight to see in Munich.”
“So this has nothing to do with you hearing me tell DuMont where I was going?”
I shrug.
“Uh huh. So why haven’t you taken one picture while ‘sight-seeing’?” The man air quotes me.
“Thought you’d appreciate all the pictures I was taking of you and Trish.” I look over his shoulder. “Speak of the devil.”
Trish emerges from the restroom before Ian can call bullshit. When I decided not to ask Ian for help, the next easiest starting place was Trish. Not only is she here in Germany, but she was the one I saw Rose interacting with the most at the wedding. Plus, if I can get her to bring up the subject herself, maybe I can keep my interest quiet.
“Be polite somewhere else,” Ian mutters right before Trish reaches us.
“So.” She looks back and forth between Ian and me. “Where to now, boys?”
“Why don’t we check out New Town Hall?” I gesture to the church exit. “It’s only a few minutes’ walk from here, and there’s a cool astronomical clock in the tower.”
“New Town Hall?” Trish asks.
“He means Neus Rathaus.” Ian’s German dialect is perfect. The guy is annoyingly cool sometimes.
“Oh goody.” Trish bounces on her tiptoes in her sneakers. “I wanted to go there.”
“Then by all means, shall we?” I offer her my arm. Ian scoffs.
Trish throws her boyfriend a reproving look before praising me with a smile. “Such a gentleman.” When she takes my arm, Ian rolls his eyes. It’s kind of hilarious to see my normally strait-laced co-worker looking more like a jealous teenager than the grown son of a senator that he is.
Having been here a few times from previous trips, I lead the way out of the cathedral and toward Old Town Center.
Ian’s shoes drag on the cobblestones behind Trish and me as we walk down the pedestrian-only street.
“Oh, a hat shop.” Trish points to the window front, where mainly traditional German hats are on display. “They even have fascinators.” She points to a feathery bright pink tuft of fabric that I’m guessing is what she means. “I didn’t know those were worn here too. I thought they were just for British weddings.”
Weddings.
“Jackie’s wedding was pretty great, huh?” I try for nonchalance, pretending to look at the sights while watching Trish out of the corner of my eye.
Trish closes her eyes and lets out a wistful sigh. “Wasn’t it?”
“It must have been a lot of work for everyone, including you bridesmaids.”
Ian snorts.
I ignore him.
Turning away from the store front, Trish laughs. “Not really. Between the wedding planner and maid of honor Jules—who’d make a great drill sergeant by the way—Rose and I didn’t have much to do.”
Before I can celebrate Trish bringing up my target all on her own, Ian steps between us and wraps his arm around Trish’s shoulder, throwing me a knowing look. He kisses the top of her head. “Hey babe, show me that picture you took.”
I scowl, and he smirks.
Dick.
When Trish is done showing him, she turns the camera for a selfie of her and Ian, kissing his cheek when she clicks.
Ian turns and deepens the kiss.
I give them a second or two before clearing my throat.
