Dex’s face twisted into a scowl. “I don’t want your money. I want this done. I want it over with as soon as possible.” Hescrubbed a hand over his eyes, nodding jerkily. “Okay, yeah,” he said, dropping his hand to his lap. Thunder crashed over us; Phoebe and I both jumped, but Dex didn’t flinch. “Yeah. What the hell. Let’s do it.”
Phoebe’s hand shot out, gripping my elbow so tightly, it would leave a mark. I swallowed hard over the dread pressing into my throat.
“Oh,” I said. Phoebe’s grip tightened further, a futile attempt to silence my next question. “Are you sure? I mean, this is…” I trailed off.Crazywas the word that came to mind. A crazy, impulsive decision neither of us even had the chance to wrap our brains around. The only person in the car who knew what they were doing was the fourteen-year-old, and that didn’t bode well.
“Are you?” Dex challenged. My posture straightened, eyes narrowing. I didn’t consider myself a spiteful person, but something about this man coaxed the worst out of me.
“Yes,” I replied without hesitation. “Never been more sure about anything.”
“Great.”
“Awesome.”
“Fan-fucking-tastic.”
Phoebe’s face appeared between us, her smile eliminating every ounce of doubt in my mind. Crazy, impulsive, thoughtless, whatever. I would do anything to keep her happy. Even this.
“Chill out,” she said, placing a hand on either of our shoulders. “Road trips are supposed to be fun.”
I swiveled in my seat, darkness edging into my vision. Spots. So many spots. “I’m sorry,” I said. “Did you just sayroad trip?”
Phoebe’s smile didn’t falter. “Oh, oops. Did I not mention that part?”
Seven
I could listen to every iteration of Arden’s engagement recap on repeat for the next sixty years, but it took seventeen minutes for Phoebe to start with theplease-for-the-love-of-godlooks.
“You were so right about the green dress,” Arden gushed, starry-eyed and glowing in her drab pharmacist uniform, her smile nearly as sparkling as the diamond on her finger. She’d burst into the apartment minutes after Noah popped the question last night—we hugged and cried for a solid five minutes before she went back home to celebrate privately. I’d been so thrilled for her, my own news fell to the wayside. Now, though, our packed bags were hidden behind bedroom doors and I was crawling out of my skin with every passing second.
I had to tell Arden. I had no idea how.
“You look amazing in the pictures,” I said. Phoebe shot me another pointed look and my fingernails dug further into my palms.
Arden let out a dreamy sigh. “It was perfect. Noah’s original plan was to do it at the botanical garden and invite our friendsand family, which is a sweet thought, but he said you told him if I got engaged in front of my mother, I’d kill myself. You’re my hero.”
I shot a finger gun at her. “I got you.”
“Have you given any thoughts to your honeymoon?” Phoebe interjected with a placid smile. I stiffened.
“Well, you know Noah hates sand.”
“I’ve been seeing a lot of honeymoon road trips,” Phoebe went on, her gaze snapping to me, challenging me to take this opening.
“Ooh, yeah I’ve seen that! It’s big with travel influencers right now,” Arden said. She held out her hand, gazing at her ring, and a goofy smile bloomed. “I don’t know. I think we’re gonna focus on being engaged for a bit. It’s so fun.”
Taking advantage of Arden’s distraction, Phoebe caught my eye and mouthed,Coward.
Considering my inability to say no to a cross-country road trip with a complete stranger, I was in no position to argue.
I could still call it off. That thought was the only thing keeping me upright; three things disappeared, replaced by this thought, a pathetic possibility revolving around my brain since the moment Dex and I exchanged numbers.I can call it off, as I stuffed random things into bags. I kept my phone within view at all times, ready to fire off a text that would ease the anxiety roaring in my gut.
A road trip with Benji Dexter.
I’d sat dumbstruck in the passenger seat as Phoebe breathlessly explained Dex’s fear of flying and his excellent driving record. The wordnoplayed on a constant loop in my head, even as my mouth asked pointless questions likeWhat about work?andShouldn’t someone tell Catalina so we don’t just barge into her life unannounced?Dex’s noncommittal answers led me to believe he hadno way to contact Catalina (which made sense, considering his usage of the postal service rather than, like, anemail). Phoebe didn’t have all the answers, but she did have a locked and loaded manipulation tactic:I have Dad’s Polaroid camera, she’d told me.I could take pictures, Vi. Just like he used to on his trips.
I warmed to the idea at once, remembering my sister discovering that clunky old camera in the back of Dad’s closet and taking photos of everything and how Dad had covered the fridge with them. They’d shared that curiosity for the world around them, the urge to document and return to the memories. There was a bookshelf in the living room dedicated to photo albums from his touring days, and another to the photo albums of Phoebe and me growing up; every single one lived in a storage unit now.
Icouldcall this off.
