I don’t want to touch that question, so I simply nod and head around to the passenger side.
“All set?” I ask her as I shift the seat back and buckle my seat belt.
“All set.”
“You don’t need to do any more texting before we pull out?”
She furrows her brow. “Were you watching me through the window?”
“No.”
She laughs as she starts the engine. “Sure.”
As we pull out of the rest area and merge back onto the highway, my phone rings, saving me from trying to get out of my lie.
“Hey, Mav. Just checking in.” Chance’s voice booms through the truck.
“Hey. You’re on speaker. And I’m not alone.” I hope my warning will be enough to keep him quiet.
But, of course, it’s not.
“Are you with the runaway bride?”
Hannah’s mouth drops open. “You told him that?”
“He was at the courthouse,” I explain to her. “Hannah, meet my friend, Chance.”
“Hey, Hannah,” Chance calls out. “How is Mav treating you?”
“He’s been a true gentleman,” she says.
“A gentleman, huh? That doesn’t sound like him,” the fucker says.
Hannah laughs. “It’s true.”
“So my bobblehead has been a good luck charm for your trip?” Chance asks.
Hannah gasps. “You gave Maverick that? I love it!”
Chance chuckles. “Good to hear.”
The two of them start chatting about Tom Brady and how Hannah apparently decided the bobblehead was a good omen the moment she saw it sitting on my dash.
“I didn’t know that,” I interrupt.
She bites her lip. “My ex hated Brady.”
Chance breaks into a loud laugh. “Aubrey will be thrilled to hear about the good luck part.”
Hannah asks who Aubrey is, and Chance takes her question as a free pass to tell—in detail—how he and Aubrey met.
“A bobblehead was involved?” Hannah sounds delighted. “That’s so cute.”
Chance wholeheartedly agrees, and he launches into how they picked up Pixy.
I drum my fingers on the door handle impatiently. Eventually, as they continue to become best friends, I cut them off. “Okay, we’re in the middle of driving, so—”
Screech!
