“No, how can I believe such an outrageous thing?” Aron huffed. “In his name, I must apologize. He’s been through a lot ... well, definitely not as much as you, but he tends to take everything too much at...”“He’s a screamer,” Carter shrugged.Aron threw him an odd look. He also seemed a bit conflicted.“Hey, listen, Carter,” Aron spoke, “could you please tell me what happened that day? For the love of all that is holy, I cannot believe what my husband tells me.”Husband. Aron’s husband. Someone who wasn’t him. Husband wasn’t even a complicated word. It only had seven letters, and there was nothing weird about it.Husband.Huseband.Hūsbōnda.Hūsbōndi.A householder.Yeah, Alex was the best householder in the universe. Probably a housekeeper. In Zsa Zsa Gabor’s vision of what a housekeeper meant, not like a maid or something.“You’re spacing out again, buddy,” Aron touched his shoulder.He turned to look at his longtime friend. How come had he never looked at Aron like this before? How come had. All sorts of items, my eyes fall on a tray of rings. All gold wedding bands. You see me looking at them and pull me away. I think you know what I'm imagining.So it's out of the shop. We spend a wonderful couple of hours just wandering, window-shopping. It's amazing how many shops can be crammed into such a small area. Small streets, sometimes so small no modern day car can get down them. And nearly all for the tourist. Occasionally a real local shop, selling pots and pans, or a bakery. One we stop at and buy a pastry each. We eat them as we continue to explore.Then it's time, all shopped out. The shops start to close for the afternoon siesta. But some stay open. For us it's time to leave and head home. On the way we stop for some food for our evening meal, and of course that bottle of Champagne. We decide that whatever food we get must be able to be prepared in advance so we don't spend half the evening cooking. So we decided on local prawns in a seafood sauce on a bed of lettuce,.
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