“Thanks again for looking after Smokey while I’m away,” Clover says to her. “Her food is in the kitchen drawer, and she should–”
“It’s a cat, Clover. I’ve got it.” The Clover I’ve come to know would normally shoot back a rebuttal, but instead she’s quiet. I wait for anyone to say something, but it’s obvious after a few seconds no one is going to.
“We should get going, sweetheart.” I wrap my arm around her, palm settling on the soft swell of her hip. I’ll never admit it to anyone, but she feels good underneath my hands.
“Right, okay. Well, I’ll see you in a few days,” she says to Maren before picking up Smokey and giving her a kiss on top of the head. The cat purrs and looks over at me. I know cats can’t fucking talk, but I swear this thing is asking me to pet it once more, so I oblige. She purrs even louder, and it makes me crack a small smile. We never had pets growing up, so this is new to me.
I give her a final pat goodbye, and then Clover and I head out the door, ready to start our first getaway as a “couple”.
Chapter Thirty-Five
ROMAN
Six hours and forty-two minutes. It’s a long-ass time in the car under any circumstances, but that’s a long time for two people who don’t like one another to be stuck in the same space.
It has been silent for the past twenty minutes. Clover occasionally peeks down at her phone, and I do my best to let the scenery distract me as I drive.
Neither of us knows quite how to break the silence, so I reach for the car’s music player. “Do you mind if I play something?”
“No, go ahead.” An amused little smile tugs at her lips.
“What?”
“I’m curious what your music taste is. Let me guess, divorced dad rock?”
I laugh. “That’s rich coming from someone who probably listens strictly to top 40.”
“Oh, Mr. Everett, are you a music snob?”
“No, I’m someone with taste,” I correct. “Prepare for an education, Ms. Daly.”
I press play, and one of my favorite collections of musicplays. It features everything from classical to rock. Including some Eisoli songs. It’s a list that I compiled of a bunch of songs that made me feel something. I take a peek over at Clover a few songs in, and she’s staring out at the desert whipping past outside. Her silence is more promising than snark.
The music envelops us, casting a spell over the car and scoring our drive.
“I’ll give it to you, you have good taste,” Clover finally says. In response, a smile tugs at my lips. Before I can say anything else, a notification dances across my entertainment console. It’s a text message from Jill.
“Siri, read message.” I grab my coffee and take a swig before she reads it. Clover’s black coffee remains untouched in the other cupholder. Probably because I know she doesn’t fucking like her coffee black.
“Kat’s grabbing me for dinner and aReal Housewivesmarathon. See? Fine.” I hide a smile behind the lid of the drink.
“Who’s Kat?” Clover asks.
“James’ girlfriend.” Kat’s great, and he is a lucky bastard to have her around. She’s fit in seamlessly with the family as far as the siblings are concerned.
Clover is quiet for a second before she shifts in her seat, twisting a little so that she’s facing me as much as she can with the seatbelt on.
“Is Jill okay?”
I scrub my hand over my jaw. “Yes, and no.”
She sits quietly, waiting for me to elaborate. I think of how she and Jill have been spending time together, and Jill’s warning to me before I left. Clearly she’s taken a liking to this girl, so I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if I gave Clover the bare minimum details.
“Jill has anxiety,” I look over to the passenger seat.
“No shit, Sherlock, but that was more than just a little anxiety.”
“I know. We all know. She has panic attacks. She has since we were young. Being in small spaces can trigger it, and those fucking paparazzi asking their stupid questions does too.”
