“I don’t want to hydroplane on the snow.”
“I think you can only hydroplane on water.”
“You can hydroplane on anything between your tires and the road.”
“Fine. You can be right.”
“You’re not letting me be right. I justamright.”
“The point is, if you keep going at this pace, we’ll never get there.”
“If we slide off the side of this road, we’ll never get there, either.”
“You realize we’re goingthree,” I said.
Walker ignored me.
“How about maybe ramping it up to four?” I suggested.
“How about you let me focus?”
I watched the speedometer. Now we were at two. “Can I drive?” I asked.
“No.”
“You said I could drive before.”
“That was before.”
“Driving a submarine,” I declared, “and driving a car are not the same thing.”
Walker took his eyes off the flurry for a millisecond to give me a glance. “You don’t know that.”
Fair enough. “Fine,” I said. “Two miles an hour it is. Wake me tomorrow when we get there.”
I might have faked a nap, too, just to make my point.
But that’s when I got a text from my mom.
Made it to Denver! Looks like it’s snowing at Fort D tonight. Taffy and I will stay at the airport hotel and drive up in the morning.
“My mom says they’ll wait out the weather in Denver.”
“Good,” Walker said.
Then another text came in from my mom:
You two have a cozy night.
As I read it, I made an involuntary noise of disgust. “Ughhh.”
“What?” Walker asked.
“Nothing.”
“It had to be something.”
I considered how long he might pester me about it and decided to come out with it. “She says for us to have a ‘cozy night.’”
