I hesitate. There’s so much else to worry about that I don’t need to add totaling Hector’s car to the list, but he gets me with those damn dreamy eyes and I relent. I get into the driver’s seat, shaking minimally.
He walks me through the PRNDL shift again. It’s an automatic, so obviously I don’t need to worry about changing gears. The only floodlights in the parking lot are around the perimeter, which is good because that means there are no glaring objects for me to crash into.
“Ease it nice and slow into drive and tap the gas,” he says.
The car plunks into motion. I brake fast, scared suddenly.
“It’s okay. Take your time. I’m here, and I’ve got my hand on the emergency brake.” He makes a big show of grabbing the black plastic handle between us.
I glide the car through the parking spot and into the lane. He reminds me to keep my hands at ten and two like numbers on a clock face. We come to the end of a row, and I pause too long at the stop sign.
“Hand-over-hand turn, okay?” he says. I signal my blinker just to stall a second more and then I execute a crisp left turn.
“Maybe thisislike riding a bike,” I say.
“Okay, don’t get cocky now.”
We drive in circles for some time. It’s peaceful and it helps me forget all about tomorrow night’s jitters. Kelly Clarkson riffs through the speakers, giving me a diva boost into the stratosphere. Hector grows more comfortable, so he moves his hand from the brake to my thigh.
“Do not distract me right now. I’m in thezone,” I say.
“Sorry!” he says. He asks if I’m up for a challenge. “A three-point turn, perhaps?”
“Again, Princes don’t retreat when the gauntlet is thrown,” I remind him.
“It’s like you’re drawing the letter K with the car,” he says.
I take it in stride. My lines are jerky and my handling leaves a lot to be desired, but when I pull out straight, Hector smiles at me. Pride rockets in my abdomen.
“You’re a natural,” he says.
I cheer. “Think I can drive RideShare now?”
“I’m willing to put my own life at risk, but please don’t play roulette with the citizens of Wind River.” He grabs the handle above the door as I speed up a little, doing one final victory lap, banshee screaming the whole way, before putting it in park.
Looking out on the Havensmith main building, I can tell we’re both playing back a montage of shared memories, all those sentimental moments that led us here tonight. Together. This isn’t official and this may not last, but it is incredible right now.
Unless I decide to take Mom up on her offer…
“Do you think we’re ready for tomorrow night?” I ask, sensing my own anxieties as rough stones in my stomach. I don’t want to give myself over to them, but it’s an ingrained habit at this point. What if I publicly screw everything up again? I can only take so many floggings before I become one giant bruise on the back of the universe.
He grabs my hand with assurance. The fears swiftly drain out of me.
“I know we are,” he says.
And I choose to believe him.
Chapter 31
Hector and I stand flanking the double doors leading into the Great Hall. He wears a formfitting, maroon collared shirt and a skinny black tie. No jacket. But he doesn’t need one to look debonair. Especially not with those wood-chopping arms straining the fabric of his sleeves.
His hair is down, but slicked back with pomade. He let me style him for the occasion, and I can’t keep my eyes away as we greet everyone.
Townies young and old come up the front walk dressed to the nines for an evening of cocktails and conversation, music and merriment. I spy on Grandma, Gramps, and Mom as they find old photos of themselves in my Christmas Past mobile. The smiles they wear, complementing Grandma’s shiny necklace and Gramps’s shinier cuff links, energize me for the night ahead.
I feel good, prepared, the right amount of worried excitement. I’ve only asked myselfWhat could go wrong?about twenty times as opposed to my usual two hundred. That’s a major achievement for me.
I direct a young couple toward the leather-bound guest book just inside. Across the way, children in poofy, cupcake-like dresses and sharp, penguin-like tuxedos frolic in the Christmas Yet-to-Come exhibit, which, if I do say so myself, rivals even what the best Disney Imagineers could come up with.
