Tommy gives a sharp bark of laughter. “He does not act like your surrogate brother.”
“You’re right. More like a babysitter. Like an annoyed adult, saddled with looking after the hellion child.” Which, I mean, isn’t far from the truth. “But I’m a grown-ass woman and I can do whatever and whomever I wish.”
He nods affirmatively. “I support this notion and am willing to offer up my body for your sexual empowerment.”
I hum a throaty sound and smile over at him. “Eight years too late, buddy.”
“Damn.”
I face forward, eyeing the road. “Speaking of my babysitter, though, why didn’t he pick me up?”
I had sent James a text earlier this week (our only communication since our phone call) and asked him if he’d get me from the airport so I could surprise my siblings at Hank’s. It’s the perfect plan since they think I’m coming back next week. James gave me a thumbs-up, so I assumed that meant he would. I’m trying not to focus on the little hum of disappointment I feel from being passed off to Tommy instead.
I just hoped . . .
Ugh. Never mind.
“He was going to, but when he was about to leave I told him I’d get you instead. I can’t sit still in Rome for too long or else my soul slowly leaks out of my bones, you know?”
That used to be me too—all I wanted was to get out of there, but since I left, I’ve been dreaming of going home. But that feels too personal to tell Tommy, so I settle for “After going nonstop for the last two years, I’m actually looking forward to some mundane days.”
“Give it a week,” he says with a sideways grin that definitely would have made my heart race in the past. Weird how it’s sitting dormant in there now. “Maybe you’ll decide you don’t want to work at the restaurant after all.”
As we exit the airport and prepare for a long drive back to Rome, Tommy gets a work call that he takes on his AirPods. I stare out the window, watching as we speed past car after car, half of my brain consumed with why I’m so let down by Tommy showing up at the airport instead of James and the other half picking up on a reoccurring dinging sound coming from the car. It’s got to be some kind of warning? Are his tires low? Do fancy new cars alert for that kind of thing? I’m pretty sure this is a rental, so I’d assume they keep up with maintenance on it.
When Tommy finishes his call, I finally ask him. “Hey, do you hear that? What’s making that chiming sound?”
He frowns and removes his AirPods to get a better listen. He glances at his dashboard, then quickly over to me. “Shit, Madison.You don’t have your seatbelt on?”
“Ohhhh,that’s what it is!” I tug the belt around and click it into place. “Sorry, bad habit.”
It doesn’t help that my truck is so old it doesn’t have one of those handy safety reminders. I can count on one hand the number of times I wore a seatbelt back in Rome. Then again, I barely needed to get above thirty-five miles per hour around there.
Tommy glances at me again, looking frazzled now. “Please don’t tell James I let you go fifteen minutes in the car with me before you put it on.”
“Oh my god,not this again,” I groan, pressing my head back against the seat. “Your fear of him is unhealthy. You need to see a therapist.”
“I’m serious,” he says solemnly. “Don’t tell him or I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“Fine. I definitely won’t tell him—but mainly becausewhy the hell would I? He doesn’t care whether my seatbelt is on or not.”
He grunts and stares at the road. “You’re a beautiful, delusional little woman.”
I fold my arms and stare at the side of Tommy’s perfectly chiseled face. “That was offensive and sexist. I’m calling HR. Do we have HR?”
“Technically, that would be James.” He playfully dangles his phone in front of me.
I give him a flat smile and push his hand away, not actually offended by what he said because I know Tommy. We have the kind of friendship history that allows this sort of playfulness. And truthfully, if this conversation had been taking place last year, I would have absolutely been flirting back. It’s a little terrifying how much a year can change a person.
“So how long are you in town for?” I ask while leaning over to unzip my backpack and pull out Sammy’s enclosure. He rode in my lap on the plane, but while I maneuvered through the airport I had him safely ensconced in my backpack with rolled-up towels surrounding the enclosure to keep it level.
Tommy sets his phone back on its magnetic holder. “Just long enough to—” He does a double take. “Is that a turtle?”
“Tortoise.”
“Do I want to know why you have one?”
“Doubt it. You were saying? Just long enough to . . .”
