“I don’t think you’re doing it right,” she said, her head tilted as she watched. “It looks like that top suitcase will fall off if we go over a bump.” “What are you talking about? This is a solid pyramid.” He finished lashing the last of the suitcases on the trunk-mounted luggage rack, feeling a trickle of sweat form along the back of his neck. The midmorning sun was doing its best to counteract the brisk fall air, and he’d had to slip out of his jacket and roll up his shirtsleeves. “If it worked for the Egyptians, it should get us out of the city.” “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man put so much thought into the arrangement of luggage before. Watching you work is fascinating.” “I see you’ve changed from fun-time fiancée to shrewish wife in a matter of days,” he grumbled, though without any real malice. There was something so comfortably normal about preparing for a road trip with Becca, of the traditional roles they seemed to have settled into.
