Mrs. Wrong Last Name

Chapter Eighteen

They stayed there just like that in complete silence for some time. He stood in the window holding her hand, she sat behind him on the chair. She was worn out from jet lag and her caffeine was gone. She wished she had Andrew (the butler from her stay at The Howard in Edinburgh) to make her some French Press... but the Palazzo's cappuccino wasn't that bad.

Her mind wandered to and fro and eventually he let go of her hand and came in. He sat on the bed and took off his tie. He unbuttoned the top 4 buttons and laid back, mentally worn. He was completely vulnerable in front of her, and she found it odd... she wasn't sure how to describe even after all this time how intimate they could be comfortably and without any real effort. Despite the fact they simply could not get along, they had such real familiarity. They were like family, only not. And her feeling alternated between feeling awkward to completely sated and comfortable. Life with Mr. Wrong Last Name was a real ringer.

He finally spoke up and broke the silence. "Hey lover, I really need to step out and make some arrangements for our travel plans tomorrow. I'll need to get your phone back so it stays here. I have secured you some things you'll need as well," he trailed off.

Secured her some things? "Do you think it's possible that there's anything you packed for me that I didn't think of?" she asked with a smile.

He looked at her luggage and had to laugh. There really was a ton of it. "Well I have you and I a few sets of passports in varying names. I have several different countries to choose from, but figured with your accent you could only pull off US."

She shrugged. "Look I am a proud Southerner and not ashamed of it even if you are."

He got up and moved over to the chair closest to her. "I'm not ashamed of you or your Southern ways, I'm simply noting that it makes it harder for us if they are looking for Americans and you are one."

"So dear husband, where are you going to be from?" she asked.

"All depends on which passport name you like the best. But my options are varied I assure you." He put her hair behind her ear and got up and kissed her on the top of her head. It was late afternoon, and she was definitely fading. It always took her a couple days to adjust. He decided to leave her there for a bit and told her if she wanted to eat dinner downstairs later he would join her.

"You know I can't," she said.

He paused, and knew she would say that. But he always hoped that just once she would let up her guard. "OK, I can have it brought up here, or maybe you can eat downstairs with Ole Misses?"

"I don't care," she said. "Your choice."

A lot of time may have passed, but he knew she did care.

"I'll set it up. Take a nap. Take a steam shower. Get some rest. I won't stay here tonight, partly so you can rest and partly because the idea of it still makes my skin crawl." The very thought of The Husband and his money, his providing for her all this time, nearly made him physically ill. But he managed a smile for her. "Don't worry about any of it, I'll take care of everything. Croatia tomorrow, lover."

He left and though she was completely exhausted she immediately grabbed for the burn phone. She knew she shouldn't be calling Federale this many times this close together, but she would just have to be sure to call the dog walker and café too... and maybe the bakery as well.

As soon as she turned it on, it blew up with texts.

"Hey Tina, call home when you get the chance. I've been to the dog pen and they're out"

What?? She thought. Surely that's just one of his crazy euphemisms.

"Hey Tina, caught the dogs, don't panic. But call home. I'm wondering about their shot records because they're covered in marshmallow"