Shopaholic & Sister by Sophie Kinsella Read Free Book Online Page B

intrigued. “Even without this?” He reaches into his pocket and produces my purse.
    God, I’d forgotten all about that.
    “Even without my purse!” I say with a little laugh. “Although . . . I did manage to buy you a little something.”
    I hand over the bronze-wrapped package and watch excitedly as Luke pulls out the belt.
    “Becky, that’s . . . wonderful!” he says. “Absolutely . . .” He trails off, turning it over in his hands.
    “It’s to replace the one I ruined,” I explain. “With the hot wax, remember?”
    “I remember.” He sounds utterly touched. “And . . . this is really all you bought in Milan? A present for me?”
    “Er . . .”
    I give a kind of noncommittal shrug and clear my throat, playing for time.
    Marriages are based on honesty and trust. If I don’t tell him about the Angel bag, then I’m betraying that trust.
    But if I
do
tell him . . . I’ll have to explain about my Defcon One, code-red-emergency credit card. Which I’m not sure is such a solid idea.
    I don’t want to spoil the last precious moments of our honeymoon with some stupid argument.
    But we’re married
, I think in a rush of emotion.
We’re husband and wife! We shouldn’t have secrets
! OK, I’m going to tell him. Right now.
    “Luke—”
    “Wait.” Luke cuts me off, his voice a little gruff. “Becky, I want to apologize.”
    Apologize?
    “You said you’d changed. You said you’d grown up. And . . . you have.” He spreads his hands. “To be honest, I was expecting you to come back to the hotel having made some huge, extravagant purchase.”
    Oh God.
    “Er . . . Luke . . .” I venture.
    “I’m ashamed of myself,” he says, frowning. “Here you are, your first visit to the fashion capital of the world—and all you’ve bought is a present for me. Becky . . . I’m really moved.” He exhales sharply. “Chandra was right. You do have a beautiful spirit.”
    There’s silence. This is my cue to tell him the truth.
    But how can I tell him I don’t have a beautiful spirit, I have a crappy old normal one?
    “Well . . .” I find myself obsessively refolding the bronze wrapping paper. “Er . . . you know. It’s just a belt!”
    “It’s not just a belt to me,” he says quietly. “It’s . . . a symbol of our marriage.” He clasps my hand for a few moments, then smiles. “I’m sorry . . . what did you want to say?”
    I could still come clean.
    I could still do it.
    “Um . . . well . . . I was just going to tell you . . . the buckle’s adjustable.” I give him a slightly sickly smile and turn away, pretending to be fascinated by the view out the window.
    OK. So I didn’t tell the truth.
    But in my defense, if he’d just paid attention when I’d read him
Vogue
he would have seen for himself. I mean, I’m not hiding it or anything. Here I am with one of the most coveted status symbols in the world on my arm—and he hasn’t even noticed!
    And anyway, this is absolutely the last time I lie to him. From now on, no more white lies, no more gray lies, no more fibs. We will have a perfect marriage of honesty and truth. Yes. Everyone will admire our harmonious, loving ways, and people will call us the Couple Who—
    “Linate Airport!” The driver’s voice interrupts my thoughts. I turn and look at Luke with a sudden apprehensive thrill.
    “Here we are,” he says, and meets my eyes. “Still want to go home?”
    “Absolutely!” I reply firmly, ignoring the nervous flutters in my stomach.
    I get out of the taxi and stretch my legs. Passengers are milling about with trolleys, and a plane is taking off with a thunderous roar, almost right above me.
    God, we’re really doing it. In a few hours we’ll be in London. After all these months traveling.
    “By the way,” says Luke. “There was a message from your mother on my mobile this afternoon. She wanted to know if we were still in Sri Lanka, or had we gone to Malaysia yet?”
    He lifts his eyebrows comically at me, and I feel a giggle