For a second I thought I’d misheard him. “Tonight?”
“Yeah. I know, I know.” His voice tightened, already defensive. “Don’t start, okay? I’m doing this for us. If I land this deal, the commission covers the honeymoon. You said you wanted Italy.”
“I said maybe Italy next year,” I replied, but my voice came out soft, automatically compromising. “Brett, it’s our anniversary.”
“I know that.” He exhaled sharply as if I were the difficult one. “I feel terrible. But this is real life, Val. Sometimes adults have to make sacrifices.”
The words stung, partly because they were so rehearsed. Then the camera shifted in his hand, just for half a second, and the angle widened enough for me to see a neon-pink suitcase standing upright behind his shoulder.
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