Don't Hold Back (Love Hurts 4)

“Really? You think that’s funny?” I growl, narrowing my eyes at her.

“Hilarious,” she giggles. “They did actually want to meet you, but you piked out of lunch on Saturday so they missed their chance. But seriously, yes, this is hard on them. Everything about the last couple of years has been hard on them.”

“How long have you been sick for?” I ask. These are questions I’ve wanted to ask since I saw her on the river. Now seems like the right moment.

“Six years, three months, and twenty-seven days.” She looks down at the table. “Not that I’m counting or anything. What about you?” she asks, abruptly changing the subject. “What makes a guy like you take time out to help a girl like me? And don’t try and tell me it’s all about the free trip, because I don’t believe that for a second.”

I shrug. “I just need to get away for a while. Get my life back on track. This is the best way I could see to do that.”

“What’s so bad about your life that it’s fallen off track?”

“I don’t even know where to start,” I chuckle. “Let’s just say I’ve done some things that disappoint even me. Let’s direct this conversation back where it belongs. Where are we going? I assume you’ve planned this trip right down to the very last detail.”

She blushes. “What makes you say that? I’ll have you know I can be very spontaneous and fun.” She glares at me when I snort. “Just because I like to be organized—”

“There’s being organized and then there’s being anal.”

“There is nothing about me that is anal,” she exclaims a little too loudly, catching the attention of an elderly couple at the next table. Her cheeks turn red, making me laugh. “I am not anal,” she

hisses, her tone lower.

“That’s what she said,” I reply.

She looks at me strangely. Bad joke.

“I just mean you seem organized. It wasn’t necessarily an insult, Erin.”

“It sounded like one,” she replies, eyeing me suspiciously. “Yes, I’ve got things planned, but I want to leave room to explore too. We start in Italy, then over to Spain and France. From there, we go back to Italy, with a few weeks unplanned until we fly home.”

“Anything you’re hanging out to see?”

She thinks for a moment. “I’ve always wanted to see the Eiffel Tower. Cliché, I know, but it’s so beautiful and romantic. I’ve dreamt of walking through Paris at night with a cute guy by my side.”

“Glad I can be of service.” I grin.

She blushes and I laugh.

“The tower is cool, but there is plenty more things that are worth seeing.”

“You’ve been before?” she asks, interested.

“We went on lots of holidays when I was a kid. My dad went to lots of conferences, and sometimes we were lucky enough to tag along. I’ve been pretty much everywhere there is to go.”

“Sounds like you had a hard life,” she comments.

I don’t answer. I know she’s only teasing, but her words get under my skin. I’d have traded all the money and material things for my father’s attention, or for a real, brotherly relationship with Noah. We are so close in age, with him fourteen months older at twenty-six, that we should be close. Especially growing up. But our father took care of any chance of that happening when he decided Noah meant more to him. At least now I know why.

I didn’t even call my father or Noah to tell them about this trip. I figured Mum would do that for me. That’s wrong on so many levels. Who leaves the country for two months without saying goodbye to their family? I can just imagine Erin’s reaction if she knew that.

Our flight number is called over the loudspeaker, announcing that our plane is ready to board. I quickly text Mum, letting her know that we’re leaving, then stand up.

“We’d better go,” I mumble, grabbing my hand luggage and swinging it over my shoulder. “Are you okay to walk?”

“I’m fine.” She winces when she stands. I grab her bag with one hand and her arm with the other. She glances at me with a small smile. “Thanks.”

We reach the gate just as the line is beginning to thin out. Erin looks pale, like she’s going to pass out.

“Sit down over there. I’ll wait.”