Americans?”
“Of course not. That’s not what I said. Nobody deserves this. I said I’m not surprised it happened, that’s all.”
“Seriously, Erica, it must suck to have so little faith in humanity. Wow.” She noticed Corinne’s subtle little wave and was relieved to have a reason to end the conversation. “Tim must be here.” She shouldered her backpack, scooped up her Walmart bag, and headed toward the lobby without waiting.
“Damn,” Erica muttered. Speaking her mind didn’t often win her friends and admirers, but she’d learned to live with it. She told herself that Abby’s dismissal meant nothing to her, that it didn’t sting at all. Of course, she knew she was lying—and that bugged her even more.
Chapter 6
Brian Caldwell thought that maybe it was time to stop being a decent guy. After all, what had that gotten him? A cheating wife and a one-bedroom apartment, that’s what. He’d been married to Carly for almost five years and she’d been unfaithful for at least three of them. He’d spent many, many months torturing himself by trying to figure out if there’d been more than the four affairs he knew about until finally his buddy Rafe smacked him upside the head. Literally.
“Bri. Enough, dude. Seriously. Let the bitch go. She took five years of your life, man, don’t give her any more. Pull yourself together. Take a trip or something. Be a playboy for a few weeks. Find some tail and fuck your brains out. It’s the best way to get through this kind of thing.”
Rafe would know; he was on wife number three and only thirty-five. Brian loved the guy, but the last thing in the world he wanted to be was Rafe. Still, there was something to be said about sex with no commitments. He wasn’t really that kind of guy; he liked having just one woman and being that one woman’s one man, but he had needed to cut loose, at least for a while. Get his mojo back, restore his confidence, which Carly had shaken in a bad way. So he’d taken Rafe’s advice and planned himself a three-week tour of Europe and it had been worth it. Anna Maria waitressed in a restaurant in Rome and Isabelle ran a bookstore outside of Paris. Each of them found his American accent enchanting, each of them rocked his world, and neither of them wanted any strings. It was the perfect scenario. Twice. He had no idea how he’d gotten so lucky, but he was about to return home a new man—or that had been the plan anyway. He’d wanted to be able to tell Carly to kiss his ass, but with all that had happened, a big part of him just wanted to be with her, to stand next to her and to hold her hand and to be outraged together, to mourn their fellow Americans. The rest of him thought, “Screw her.”
Now he wondered if he’d ever get back into America.
He still couldn’t believe it had happened. Fucking Middle Easterners. He never understood why the United States tried to bring peace to that part of the world. They obviously didn’t want it. Leave them alone and let them wipe each other off the face of the planet, that would be the best solution. But now they’d struck on American soil, the bastards. Who did they think they were? Well, that was the worst move they could have made, killing thousands of Americans. They were going to be sorry. You don’t go poking a bull unless you want to get gored by the horns, buddy. Simple fact of life.
Pulling his thoughts away from the mess back home, Brian focused on the present, specifically on those in the car with him. Michael seemed like a good guy. He was from somewhere outside of London and was traveling for business—on his way to Texas for a meeting, believe it or not. He was quiet and rather polite, though when you least expected it he’d toss in a zinger that left you blinking, wondering if he’d actually said what you thought he had. Abby was awesome already and he’d known the girl for only half an hour. She was charming, funny, and very friendly—not to mention hot.
“Of course not. That’s not what I said. Nobody deserves this. I said I’m not surprised it happened, that’s all.”
“Seriously, Erica, it must suck to have so little faith in humanity. Wow.” She noticed Corinne’s subtle little wave and was relieved to have a reason to end the conversation. “Tim must be here.” She shouldered her backpack, scooped up her Walmart bag, and headed toward the lobby without waiting.
“Damn,” Erica muttered. Speaking her mind didn’t often win her friends and admirers, but she’d learned to live with it. She told herself that Abby’s dismissal meant nothing to her, that it didn’t sting at all. Of course, she knew she was lying—and that bugged her even more.
Chapter 6
Brian Caldwell thought that maybe it was time to stop being a decent guy. After all, what had that gotten him? A cheating wife and a one-bedroom apartment, that’s what. He’d been married to Carly for almost five years and she’d been unfaithful for at least three of them. He’d spent many, many months torturing himself by trying to figure out if there’d been more than the four affairs he knew about until finally his buddy Rafe smacked him upside the head. Literally.
“Bri. Enough, dude. Seriously. Let the bitch go. She took five years of your life, man, don’t give her any more. Pull yourself together. Take a trip or something. Be a playboy for a few weeks. Find some tail and fuck your brains out. It’s the best way to get through this kind of thing.”
Rafe would know; he was on wife number three and only thirty-five. Brian loved the guy, but the last thing in the world he wanted to be was Rafe. Still, there was something to be said about sex with no commitments. He wasn’t really that kind of guy; he liked having just one woman and being that one woman’s one man, but he had needed to cut loose, at least for a while. Get his mojo back, restore his confidence, which Carly had shaken in a bad way. So he’d taken Rafe’s advice and planned himself a three-week tour of Europe and it had been worth it. Anna Maria waitressed in a restaurant in Rome and Isabelle ran a bookstore outside of Paris. Each of them found his American accent enchanting, each of them rocked his world, and neither of them wanted any strings. It was the perfect scenario. Twice. He had no idea how he’d gotten so lucky, but he was about to return home a new man—or that had been the plan anyway. He’d wanted to be able to tell Carly to kiss his ass, but with all that had happened, a big part of him just wanted to be with her, to stand next to her and to hold her hand and to be outraged together, to mourn their fellow Americans. The rest of him thought, “Screw her.”
Now he wondered if he’d ever get back into America.
He still couldn’t believe it had happened. Fucking Middle Easterners. He never understood why the United States tried to bring peace to that part of the world. They obviously didn’t want it. Leave them alone and let them wipe each other off the face of the planet, that would be the best solution. But now they’d struck on American soil, the bastards. Who did they think they were? Well, that was the worst move they could have made, killing thousands of Americans. They were going to be sorry. You don’t go poking a bull unless you want to get gored by the horns, buddy. Simple fact of life.
Pulling his thoughts away from the mess back home, Brian focused on the present, specifically on those in the car with him. Michael seemed like a good guy. He was from somewhere outside of London and was traveling for business—on his way to Texas for a meeting, believe it or not. He was quiet and rather polite, though when you least expected it he’d toss in a zinger that left you blinking, wondering if he’d actually said what you thought he had. Abby was awesome already and he’d known the girl for only half an hour. She was charming, funny, and very friendly—not to mention hot.
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