The Trade(32)

I slip on the comfortable robe that’s hanging on the back of the bathroom door, brush my hair, add some leave-in conditioner to the tips, and then open the door. Cory is sitting on his already made pullout bed, book in hand, reading. He’s changed into a pair of athletic shorts and a T-shirt and looks so comfortable and inviting, I’m tempted to walk up to him and cuddle into his lap.

He glances up and takes me in. Smiling he says, “That’s much better. Not nearly as terrifying.”

I walk over to the kitchenette where Cory set up my food and some water—seriously, this guy is so nice. “If you were my brother, you would have at least ten pictures of me saved on your phone, ready to be used for blackmail.”

“That doesn’t surprise me about Jason. Do you have any pictures of him on your phone?”

I smile to myself. “Enough to get my way most of the time, but every time he gives in to one of my demands, he makes me delete a picture. I’m starting to run low. I need to find him in some precarious situations soon.” I lift the lid to my food and my mouth waters from the sight of the chicken and fries. “Oh, thank you, fried food gods. This is just what I need right now.”

“Yeah? Did you really have that many shots?”

I shake my head. “No, but I think it was the combination of not much food, champagne on the plane, the shots, and a few more cocktails . . . huh, you know, the more I think about it, the more I realize I did drink more than I normally do. Please don’t hold this against me.”

“You do what you want, it’s your vacation.”

He lifts his book back up and even though he’s reading, I can’t help but ask, “What are you reading?” The dust jacket is off, and I can’t read the binding from his giant hands covering it.

“‘Becoming’ by Michelle Obama. It’s really good.”

“Wait . . .” I have chicken halfway to my mouth when I ask, “You’re reading Michelle Obama’s book?”

“Uh-huh. Is there something wrong with that?”

“No.” I shake my head. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Thought I was reading some thriller?”

“Sort of.” I chuckle. “Yeah, I was. Something that will be turned into an HBO series.”

“That’s usually what I like to read, but my assistant, Cheryl, told me I need to read this book. She gave it to me. I figured if a seventy-year-old woman gives me a book, I need to read it because there is a ninety-nine-point-nine percent chance that she’s going to ask me about it.”

God, that’s adorable. As is the tinge of fear in his expression. This six-foot-plus man is scared of his assistant. Who is older than my mom.

“Your assistant is seventy?”

“Yeah. People think it’s weird, but she’s sharper than anyone I know. She takes care of me, never lets me miss an appointment or important event, and she’s more hip on technology than I am. She’s the one who started an Instagram account for me and reminds me to post.”

“Stop.” I chuckle. “Seriously? Where do I find a Cheryl?”

“Well, I found her at the grocery store in Baltimore. I was trying to pick out avocados and had no idea what I was doing. She came over and showed me how to pick ones that won’t ripen too fast. And then she took my grocery list and went to the different crates of produce, showing me what I should get. It soon became an entire trip around the grocery store as we spoke about our lives. I realized when we hit aisle nine, where she was lecturing me about the importance of probiotics, that I needed her in my life. And she’s been with me ever since.”

Why is that the sweetest story I’ve ever heard? I can just see it, tall and muscular Cory confused at the grocery store while this little lady drags him around, aisle by aisle, helping him find food for his cart.

“That’s a really cute story. Could you imagine if that was your meet cute? How adorable.”

“Too bad she’s taken. Her husband is a retired Marine, and he’s terrifying. I mean, straight-up will scare you out of your underpants scary. He once startled me so hard at the dinner table, that I nearly knocked the entire table over with my knees. He waits for the quietest moment to shout something incredibly loud, like . . . pass the salt,” Cory shouts, startling me as well. We both laugh. “See what I’m saying? You don’t expect it, do you?”

“That would be terrifying, having to be on your guard all the time.”

He nods. “Yeah, but he’s a good guy and he loves Cheryl. He looks at her as if she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. I swear there’s awe in his eyes whenever she walks into a room.”

“That’s really sweet,” I say, dipping a piece of chicken and taking a bite. Not wanting to dwell on the fact that my husband never looked at me in awe, I say, “I’m going to guess you guys had a much better dinner, one that isn’t usually found on the kid’s menu.”

He chuckles and shakes his head. “We all had steak except for Emory who really wanted mac and cheese, so I think you’re in good company.”

“I need to hang out with her more then.” Turning in my seat, I say, “Do you ever find this group . . . overwhelming? We’re both kind of outcasts in our own way being pulled in. It’s intimidating.”