Page 3 of Every Time I Go on Vacation, Someone Dies

“What are you doing in here, El?”

I step out of the booth. “Confessing my sins?”

“You haven’t been gone long enough for that.”

“Ha ha.”

She plucks a piece of lint from my navy dress. It’s made of the same material as hers, light as a feather. She found it for me on a shopping trip to New York. Besides being my sister, she’s the best personal assistant anyone could ask for.

I wish she didn’t resent me for it so much, and I’m terrified she’s going to leave me at the end of this trip. She hasn’t said it explicitly, but she’s dropped enough hints about me doing more stuff on my own that it’s clear where she’s headed.

Away from me.

“You don’t need to do that,” I say, catching her hand.

Do I even need to tell you that her manicure is a perfect ballet pink, while I’ve long stopped bothering with getting my nails done? No, right? You’ve got the picture.

“We need to get going,” Harper says.

“What’s next?”

“The Colosseum.”

“Must we?”

“They want us to get some shots there to start hyping Roman Holiday Gone Wrong.”

“I haven’t agreed to that title.”

“Regardless.”

“Okay, fine. But I need ice cream if I’m going to be back out in that heat.”

“It’s called gelato.”

“I’m doing it again, aren’t I? Being the stupid American tourist?”

“Kinda.”

“Sorry, sis.” I rope my arm around her neck and pull her close. She smells like lemons and home to me, a slight variation on my own scent.

“I saw a gelato shop around the corner,” Harper says.

“You’re a lifesaver.”

“You get any insight in there?” She points over my shoulder.

Oh, crap, I left Mr. Texas alone without saying goodbye. “Hold on.”

I step to the confessional and pull the curtain back. “Are you still there?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’ve got to go.”

“Go with God.”

“Okay, thanks.” Okay? Okay? Do I go directly to hell now, or do I at least get to plead my case at the pearly gates? “Thank you for listening.”