“Not Italian?” she lamented, tilting her head back, eyes turning to the sky. “Fuck. Do you know what you’re doing to me?”
“No,” said Jack, who very much did not know and wasn’t sure he wanted to.
“What do you have against Italian?” she crowed, throwing her arms up in the air.
“Nothing. I just never get to eat at other restaurants.”
“What, like there aren’t options? You live in a city. Who the hell are you going out to eat with?”
“My coworkers, mostly,” he said grimly. “Once a month my company sponsors a lunch for us at this little Italian place.”
“Those are the best places,” Carla groaned. “You’re killing me.”
“I don’t get to go out very much,” Jack snapped, defensive even though he knew better. This was a low-stakes conversation. It shouldn’t grate on him like this.
“Why not?”
“Because I’m broke,” he said, scrubbing a hand down his face. It came away grimy. Again, he wished she’d roll the top up.
“Are you?” She looked him up and down, quizzical. “I mean, I could’ve guessed, but I didn’t want to be rude.”
“It’s not rude,” Jack sighed. “It’s just the truth.”
“I thought the suit looked a little off. You didn’t really lose your wallet?”
“No, I definitely lost it.”
Carla shrugged. “I’m thinking Thai. But you’ll come around on Italian food, I promise. You haven’t tried the right place yet.”
“I just hate thinking about my job,” Jack said, daring to look at his reflection in the side mirror. Sure enough, his hair stuck up at odd angles and his bangs were tangled.
This was nothing compared to Carla’s hair, which was so wild that it looked like she had been electrocuted. It should’ve been unappealing, but his stomach flipped when she turned to him. “Alright, alright. I’m sorry. I won’t bring it up again. For now.”
They ended up at a Thai place. Jack ordered some spicy noodles. Carla ordered the spicier ones and waggled her eyebrows at him.
By the time they finished, the sky outside had darkened into a lavender twilight. “We should keep going,” Carla said with a reluctant glance at the car. “If we’re going to test this theory, we should do it right.”
“Sounds good,” said Jack. Carla yawned. On impulse, he asked, “Want me to drive?”
She eyed him skeptically. Then she said, “Yeah, you know what? Who the fuck cares? Sure. Go ahead and drive. Try not to wreck.”
“No promises,” said Jack, not entirely certain he rememberedhowto drive.
She tossed him the keys, anyway.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO
At two a.m.,they checked into a motel by the state border.
Jack was cautiously optimistic. Nothing had gone terribly wrong. He’d taken the wrong exit and almost sideswiped an old, clattering truck, and they’d very nearly run out of gas, but those were only close calls.Nothing of real consequence, he reminded himself, even as his insides squirmed.
They stopped at a diner on the way to the motel and scarfed down slightly burnt bacon and runny eggs. Jack ate like it might be his last meal. If he woke up in Hidden Cove, he’d be back to a diet of hot dogs and muffins. For now, he’d eat anything and everything he could get his hands on.
The motel clerk didn’t watch them sign in. Didn’t even blink as she took the cash from Carla. The shadows under her eyes darkened with each passing second.
Jack wondered what she thought of them—if she cared. He and Carla didn’t go together at all. Her casual jeans contrasted with her purse and wallet, made of coral-colored Italian leather, complete with shiny gold clasps. On no planet was she Jack’s girlfriend, let alone an affordable call girl.
