We sat tangled together in comfortable silence, his hand still moving in slow patterns on my back.
I could have stayed there forever.
Then headlights appeared through the rain.
Bright and sudden, cutting through the gray curtain surrounding us. An old pickup truck slowed and pulled onto the shoulder ahead of us, hazards flashing through the rain. A figure got out with an umbrella, walking back toward our car with careful steps.
Archie rolled down his window as an elderly woman peered in at us, taking in our closeness with a knowing smile that suggested she knew exactly what we’d been doing.
“You two having car trouble?” she asked, her voice warm despite the weather.
“Yes ma’am,” Archie said. “Engine died about two hours ago. We’re waiting for roadside assistance.”
She made a disapproving sound. “Nonsense. You can’t sit out here in this weather. My house is just up the road. You can wait there, warm and dry, until help arrives.”
“That’s very kind,” I started, “but we don’t want to impose.”
“It’s no imposition at all. I’m Mary, by the way. And I have soup on and plenty of space.” She looked between us with grandmotherly approval. “Young couples shouldn’t spend their Saturday night stranded on highways.”
I opened my mouth to correct the “couple” assumption but Archie’s hand found mine and squeezed gently, stopping me.
“We’d appreciate the help, Mary,” he said. “Thank you.”
Mary beamed at us like we’d just made her day. “Wonderful. Follow me in your car if it starts, or I can give you a ride if it doesn’t.”
Archie tried the ignition one more time. Miraculously, the engine turned over with a rough cough but started. “We’ll follow you.”
Mary headed back to her truck and we pulled onto the road behind her, following her taillights through sheets of rain.
“You stopped me from correcting her,” I said.
“I did.”
“Why?”
He glanced at me, his expression serious but warm. “Because she wasn’t wrong. Not really. Not anymore.”
“Archie.”
“I know this is fast. I know we’re supposed to take things slow and be reasonable. But Gianna, I don’t want to be reasonable about you.” He reached over and took my hand again. “If you want me to correct people when they call you my girlfriend, I will. But I’d really rather not.”
I looked at our joined hands, at the way his fingers fit between mine like they belonged there. Thought about the kissthat was still making my lips tingle. About falling and fear and wanting things I’d convinced myself I shouldn’t want.
“I don’t want you to correct them either,” I said quietly.
His smile could have powered the entire city. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He lifted my hand and kissed my knuckles, his eyes never leaving mine. “Good. Because I’m keeping you.”
“Possessive.”
“Completely.” But he was grinning. “You’ll just have to deal with it.”
“I think I can manage.”
We followed Mary’s truck through the rain toward her house, and despite the broken car and the missed interviews and the storm that showed no signs of stopping, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt this happy.
