“Nonsense—I’m the one who screwed up. I should have communicated better with my wife.”

“So you talked to her? Did you explain that my cousin Alistair was with us the whole time in California?”

Charlie paused for a few seconds. “I did. Don’t worry about it anymore.”

“Are you sure? I couldn’t sleep at all last night—I kept imagining that I had gotten you into trouble and that Isabel thought I was some philandering home wrecker. I was trying to find ways to contact her myself.”

“Everything’s fine. Once I explained how our California road trip was last-minute—that we all just happened to be there at the same time—she was fine.” He wondered how convincing he sounded.

“I hope you told her that the most romantic thing that happened was watching Alistair projectile vomit out the car window after stuffing down too many In-N-Out burgers.”

“I left that part out, but don’t worry—it’s all good,” Charlie said, trying to add a little laugh.

Astrid let out a deep sigh of relief. “I’m so glad. You know, I should have been more circumspect. After all, she was meeting me for the first time, and I am the woman who—” She paused, suddenly unsure of how to put it.

“You’re the woman who dumped her husband,” Charlie said matter-of-factly.

“Yes, that’s right. I hope she knows that we’re much better friends now than we ever could have been before. My God, we were a terrible couple,” Astrid said with a laugh.

“I think she realizes that now,” Charlie said cautiously. He desperately wanted to change the subject. “So how’s Venice? Where are you staying?”

“I’m staying with Domiella Finzi-Contini. Her family has the most spectacular palazzo near Santa Croce—I walked onto my balcony this morning and thought I had stepped into a Caravaggio. Do you remember Domiella from our London days? She was at LSE, but part of that whole crazy set that ran around with Freddie and Xan.”

“Ah yes—messy blond hair, right?”

“It was platinum blond then, but she’s back to her natural chestnut now. Anyway, we were having the most marvelous time together until last night.”

Charlie groaned audibly. “I’m sorry again.”

“No, no, it’s nothing to do with Isabel. There’s another drama brewing back home—I have two stubborn boys who are refusing to behave.”

“They probably miss Mommy.”

“Now, don’t you start on me too! I feel bad enough as it is that Cassian’s getting locked up in a closet.”

“Who locked him in a closet?”

“His father.”

“What?” Charlie said incredulously.

“For four hours yesterday, apparently. And he’s only five.”

“Astrid, I would never lock my child in a closet, no matter what age.”

“Thank you. My feelings exactly. I think I need to cut this trip short.”

“Um, sure sounds like it!”

Astrid sighed. “When is Isabel coming home?”

“Friday, I think.”

“She’s incredibly beautiful. She looked so elegant last night—I adored the necklace she was wearing. And she was perfectly civil to me even after I must have given her quite a shock. I’m so glad everything’s okay now.”