I usher her toward my red G-wagon as we walk out of the facility, gesturing at my vehicle like I’m a model on a game show and it’s the grand prize. The luxury car gods are clearly smiling down upon me, because I just had it detailed this past weekend. Usually, there’s at least two old protein shakes in the cupholders, coupons that probably expired when MTV still played music videos, and loose change scattered on the floor like confetti.
An unfamiliar security guard narrows his eyes at me, and I realize what this must look like. Me, a giant man, looking maniacally happy while shepherding a frighteningly beautiful,yet hesitant-looking woman to my car. I want to say it’s not what it looks like, but it’s exactly what it looks like.
I give him a small, friendly wave that I hope says “I know we’ve never met, but I’m a nice guy and this woman is here willfully, Officer.” He continues watching me like a hawk, so I don’t think I was successful, but at least we’ve finally reached my car. I grab Gracie’s clear backpack and place it in the back seat. Then, I walk around to the passenger side and open the door for her.
As she climbs in, I catch a glimpse of my face in the side mirror. Holy shit. If I went to open a bank account right now, they’d turn me away. My smile looks borderline deranged.Is this what ten years of longing does to a man?
I quickly glance at the security guard again. He’s still watching, and now I appear even more suspicious for double-checking he’s there. Dragging a hand down my face in resignation, I hurry into the car before he calls the police.
As I reverse out of the parking space and look over my shoulder, Gracie turns to face me. In this position, we are instantly, extraordinarily, wonderfully close. I give a small smile and sigh. She rears back so fast her skull almost smacks the passenger window.
Her hesitant voice echoes in the car as she faces me once more, this time from a short distance. “You’re probably wondering why?—”
“You cold?” I interrupt and reach for the temperature dial.
“Um, I think I’m okay. If you’re looking for a reason as to why I’m?—”
“This car has an advanced climate control system. It has multi-zone temperature settings and heated seats. The seats actually have six settings, rather than the usual three, so you can go from, like, a light warmth to burn-your-ass-off if you so desire. Not that anyone would want to burn their ass off,especially your ass. Ope.”What in the hell am I saying right now?I didn’t even make it one hour before I brought up Gracie’s ass.
I venture a look over and see that she’s avoiding eye contact and looking straight out the passenger window.Smart.
“Sorry about that. Safety is important, so actually, it’s probably not good that the seat heat goes up that high. I should, um, bring that up the next time I go to the car dealership or something.” I try to switch the subject. “Radio preferences?”
Gracie makes an unintelligible noise, seemingly pausing her attempts to tell me why she’s here. Truthfully, I don’t want to hear it; I’m gravely worried she’ll disappear for another ten years as soon as she accomplishes whatever she came here to do.
I turn the dial to a general pop/rock radio channel with inoffensive music, the kind that plays at the dentist during a root canal. Without knowing if she’s still into emo punk, this is the safest option.
She stares straight out the front window and wordlessly twirls her hair. Given everything that’s occurred, I count it as a win and turn up the heat.
Chapter 4
Grace
Danny is blasting the multi-zone heat on full power. I keep turning up whatever soft rock is on the radio in an attempt to drown out the cabin air settings, and now…well, it’s so loud in here. It’s like I’m trapped in a hot elevator with the Red Hot Chili Peppers screamingCalifornicationdirectly into my ears. It’s not even their best work.
I’d rather have my entire patient list consist of only tiny chihuahuas than be in this car for another minute. I check the time again. Was he lying when he said he lived in New York? I’m almost positive we’ve been in this car for eleven billion hours.
Danny, meanwhile, is driving under the speed limit. Under. The. Speed. Limit. In New York City! Is he trying to get me murdered by a road warrior? Is this revenge? He keeps glancing over, checking on me, as if I will fall out of my seat and tumble into the East River.
Danny coughs loudly, like he’s trying to get my attention, but I’m too distracted by other things. Namely, his hands, which are on ten and two like a teen driver taking the practical part of their licensing exam. He was nowherenearthis cautious growing up. Danny was such a wild driver that pedestrians would’ve been better off walking in the middle of the street when he was onthe road. In cars with good drivers, the stereo dash has the most wear and tear. In Danny’s car, the “Oh Shit!” ceiling handle was hanging on by a thread, covered in my claw marks. I smile and think about how his mom gave him an angel figurine to keep in his car, like that would save him from himself.
“Hey, how’s Janie?” I ask him.
Danny holds his hand up to his ear. “WHAT? I CAN’T HEAR YOU!”
“How is YOUR MOM?” I yell, before realizing he’s messing with me. Oh, fuck him.
He smirks and ever so slightly turns down the volume knob. “She has a son in the league who pays for all of her premium movie streaming services, how do you think she’s doing?”
A genuine smile spreads across my face. “Janie always did love watching the same rom-com in different fonts. Which Christmas movie was her favorite this year? Was it the one where the city boy ditched his successful fiancée to go head up his family’s cookie factory in the middle of nowhere? Or was it the one where the citygirlditchedhersuccessful fiancé to go head upherfamily’s cookie factory in the middle of nowhere?”
Danny’s laugh booms over both the Chili Peppers and the hurricane winds from the cabin air. “I think the latter. She went back to my sister’s before the final whistle to avoid traffic. I’m not typically in the mood to socialize after a losing game. But she’ll be over tomorrow morning.”
He sighs. “So, am I allowed to turn down the radio now, or am I suffering the rest of this trip?”
I scoff as he lowers the volume. “Oh,you’resuffering?” Tugging on the neck of my sweatshirt, I swipe a bead of sweat trickling down from my hairline. “A chicken could lay an omelet in here.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Wow. I’m sorry for beingtooconsiderate, Gracie. In case you aren’t aware, it’s snowingoutside. You’re not even wearing a coat. It’s like you’re asking for hypothermia.”
