Page 138 of Dirty Husband
And this whole trip to Rome…
I'm not really sure what to do here. Shep knows how I feel. He knows I appreciate his help. He knows I resent the imposition.
But that doesn't feel quite right.
Sure, our reasons for flying to Rome are unclear. I wish I was in the know. I wish he trusted me enough to explain this.
But, right now, I don't resent a single thing.
Right now, I'm… happy.
I don't care about the awkwardness of first class or the shitty tea or the vague explanation.
Only that Shep is sitting next to me, his lips in a half-smile, his eyes bright.
He's so handsome.
And I'm so screwed.
Because I really do like him. More.
The speech I gave about how I never stopped loving him—
It's way too true.
But it can't be too bad. Because Idocare about this shitty tea. Ugh. It tastes like nothing. "Is this really what passes for tea?"
"Ian says you're out of luck in Italy."
Again, I stick my tongue out. Like I'm sixteen again, complaining about my dad's cooking.
"You can try espresso."
Again, I stick my tongue out. Coffee is a club to the senses. Sure, I appreciate the Vietnamese Iced Coffee Mai serves in her restaurant… if I want something that makes a Frappuccino look subtle. Black coffee… no way.
"Too strong?"
"Way too strong."
"They have milk and sugar."
That is… true. And there's something about his easy tone… it's just right.
All this is so easy. Like we're kids in love. Like our biggest concerns are midterms and what we're wearing to Spring Fling.
His fingers brush mine as he takes the cup. He brings it to his soft lips. Takes a small sip. "It tastes like tea."
I shake my head. "It's an abomination."
"What happened to the oolong"
"I drank it."
"All of them?"
I nod. "The bags are barely better. There's no room for the leaves to breathe."
His smile spreads a little wider. "Is that right?"
