Page 41 of Don't Be in Love
“It’s fine. It was just a dress.”Said no one ever.
“I could buy you a new one.”
“I don’t need you to buy me anything, Dorian.”
“I know, Adelaide. I don’tneedto do anything, but I want to.” He flipped the computer over, opened the screen, and—
“Oh my gosh, you fixed it!” Relief flooded my chest as my wallpaper of Elizabeth James’s home fromThe Parent Trapappeared. My shoulders finally loosened. “Thank you, I really appreciate it.”
“It was my fault anyway. I’ll bring an umbrella for the next walk.”
“I should probably get going.” I stood, reaching for my bag on the table. “Oh sorry,” I apologized as I extended my arm across his lap to grab my bag. This was weird now. Why did I make it weird?
“I can get it—”
I interrupted him. “No, that’s al—” The contents of my bag hit the floor.
We both crouched down, scrambling to pick everything up. I was stuffing things back in—for once not caring if something was crushed—so I could get out of here. Whereas he was refolding papers and brushing them off.
“You really do make to-do lists for everything,” he mumbled.
“What?”
“You have your London itinerary into-do list format.” He was amused reading the note.
I reached for it, but he pulled back. “I don’t have a London Itinerary,” I countered.
“Whose list is it then?” He held up the small note, a bagel logo at the top.
“Oh, that’s Marty’s.”
“Marty?” His amusement fell. “You’re sharing notes with other guys, but I can only communicate with you via email?”
“Marty is the man who sits outside my bakery.”
His eyes narrowed. “And he gave you this list?”
“That’s what I just said.”
“That sounds like a lie. I need to ask Marty myself.”
“Well, you can’t.”
“Why not?”
“He went back home to New York.”
“This all sounds very convenient for your lie.”
I yanked the note back. “Believe what you want. It’s not mine.”
“Fine, I’ll throw it out for you then.” His hand launched at the paper.
“You can’t!”
He responded with satisfaction. “So you did make the list!”
“I didn’t! I’d never”—I scanned the list—“go on the London Eye.”
