“Wait here.” He ducks back into the bathroom with the clothes he grabbed, and the shower turns on. The suite is huge. Crossing my arms, I plop down on the bed. I immediately regret it. It smells amazing, like woodsmoke and lavender. Like Finn. His scent mingles with the citrusy smell of my own still-damp hair. Grapefruit and lavender. Sharp but sweet. Me and Finn. It’s a heady combination. I stand up. The shower cuts off, and a moment later, Finn emerges from the bathroom fully dressed. “We’ll be back before the welcome party?” he asks.
“Iwill be.” I put my hand out for Finn’s keys, but he just shakes his head with a smile.
“If my car’s going, then I’m going.”
He’s being incredibly precious about a ten-year-old Tahoe, but Finn is my only option at this point. “Fine, yes. We’ll be back before the welcome party. Now can we go?”
We don’t speak as we make our way back to the valet stand, but Finn is in a fantastic mood for a man who’s just been bullied into spending his day off chauffeuring a grumpy bridesmaid. We pass the valet stand, and my hand is on the Tahoe’s door, but Finn keeps walking. There’s a soft click as the doors to the 964 unlock.
My hand drops to my side, but I don’t move. “The Singer isyours.”
He can’t keep the smile off his face. “Pretty cool, right?”
I walk toward the car slowly, as if it might disappear along with Sybil. “I’m driving.”
Finn laughs. “No.”
I circle the car. It’s got the wide hips and lower stance of a car built for the racetrack. The passenger door is so light when I open it. “Is this carbon fiber?”
“The body is. The doors are aluminum.” Finn pats the roof of the car twice, and I’m struck by the unfairness of the universe. I run my hand over the bespoke woven seat inserts before I climb into the car and let out a small sigh of pleasure. If I have to chase Sybil, at least I get to do it in a perfect car.
The engine rumbles to life, and Finn turns to me. “Let’s go catch a runaway bride.”
5
THURSDAY MORNING
(Two days before the wedding)
MY DAD ALWAYS SAIDyou could tell all you needed to know about someone from how they kept their car. Scraped-off bumper stickers means they’re probably impulsive but can’t commit to anything long term. Grime on the body will tell you they can’t afford a carport—much less a garage. Though my dad always had a soft spot when he saw cars parked on the street with their side-view mirrors folded in. They might not have a lot, he said, but they took care of what they had.
In Texas, we measure our lives in hours of driving. Dallas is three hours from Austin. Austin is nine hours from El Paso. And El Paso is eight hours and two missed childhoods away from my shitty dad. Cars are an assurance that no matter howbad it gets, you can always get in and head into the unknown, which is probably why my dad loved them so much. But it turns out there are some things you can’t leave behind no matter how much horsepower you have.
The Singer purrs beneath us as we weave down the Santa Monica Mountains and out to the coast. The view is spectacular. Manhattan may be an island, but these days the closest I get to the water is when the L train goes under the East River on my way to work.
I start to put down my window, but Finn hits what must be a child-lock button on his driver’s-side door.
“The AC is on,” he says by way of explanation.
“Well, I can’t smell the ocean through the AC.”
“Strong rebuttal, but I’m going to have to counterargue that you won’t smell the ocean so much as the exhaust fumes from that eighteen-wheeler up ahead.”
I roll my eyes at his debate team speak but concede the point. We may be on one of the most scenic highways in the country, but the fact remains that itisa highway and we’re in near bumper-to-bumper traffic.
“So what time did you tell Jamie that we’d be back?”
“Jamie thinks we’re at the spa at the hotel,” I say, pulling my gaze from the ocean to see Finn’s appalled face.
“Jamie doesn’t know?” He reaches for his phone, but suddenly has to pull up short to shift gears as the car in front of us slows. “I’m calling him right now.”
“You arenot.” I pluck the phone out of his cup holder. “This’ll all be fixed soon, and he never needs to know.”
“If it was my fiancée, I would want to know.” My skin tingles at the low rumble of Finn’s tone. He reaches across thegearshift, his forearm grazing my bare thigh, but I manage to hold the phone out of reach.
“Well, clearly Sybildidn’twant Jamie to know, or she would have told him her plans. You really want to rat her out?” His loyalty to Sybil gives him pause just long enough for me place the phone on the floorboard beside my feet, where he can’t reach it without risking sending us crashing over the guardrail and into the waves below.
As I lean back into my seat, I notice an old CD in the pocket of the car door. I rotate it so I can see the spine.Celtic Woman.
