Page 51 of The Fast Lane
He glanced at me curiously.
“It can’t be too far out of our way. We could go to his house. Maybe you don’t even get out of the car. We can set up surveillance and wear all black and eat bad convenience store hot dogs and spy on him.”
He allowed a small smile. “That’s a very specific plan.”
I squeezed his hand this time. “You don’t have to do it alone, you know. I’m right here.”
“I thought you were mad at me.”
“Please. I don’t get mad,” I lied. “I know we might not see each other all the time like we did as kids but I’d never, ever not be there for you. You have to know that. You’re, you’re…” Special. Wonderful. The man with whom I was pretty sure I was eighty percent in love. “You’re Theo.”
His thumb drew small circles on the back of my hand. “I don’t believe you.”
I stared down at our hands. “Anger and hurt look a lot alike sometimes.”
“I don’t want to hurt you, Ali. I’ve never wanted to do that,” he said, his voice low.
A lump lodged in my throat. Swallowing hard, I pasted on a smile. “So, staking out your dad’s house? What do you think?”
“Honestly, I don’t know.”
“It’s a big decision, I get it. Think of me as your right-hand woman. I’m the Robin to your Batman, the chocolate to your peanut butter, the chicken to your waffle, the Bonnie to your Clyde, the cat to your empty box.”
He laughed. “Okay. Okay. I get it. I promise I’ll think about it.”
“Good.”
We didn’t talk much after that. I found myself growing drowsy as I stared down at our hands still laced together. My last thought before I drifted to sleep was that I hoped he’d never let go.
TWENTY-ONE
Note to self:
If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em.
“This is good stuff,” Mack said, a spoonful of clam chowder halfway to his mouth.
Yes. Clam chowder. From an Elvis-themed café in a tiny, nameless town in Colorado where the closest ocean was a thousand miles away. Mack might be the bravest man I knew.
After a couple more hours of driving, we decided to stop for dinner and to find a hotel nearby. If those existed in this place. This day had seemed impossibly long, and Theo had been driving for hours without a real break.
I set my crossed arms on the table and tried to ignore how Theo’s brushed up against mine. Mack had insisted we sit next to each other. I couldn’t tell if he was a conniving, interfering old man, or legitimately confused about our relationship status.
Theo reached up to get his glass, his arm sliding against mine. Every time his arm gently bumped mine or the faint scent of citrus and soap assaulted me if I leaned even an inch closer, I got a little more antsy. I started to work up a fantasy where he turned and pulled me onto his lap and then right in the middle of this café and in front of my grandpa, he kissed me and…
I shook my head before I let my mind travel too far. He has to sit this close, Ramos. Stop making up stories.
“Glad I got to ride with you two.” Mack smirked. “Even if you only have eyes for each other.”
“Lay off, old man.”
He ignored me. “I love Stephanie but, whoa boy, can she smother a person. Last time I saw her, we went out to dinner, and she tried to cut my steak for me. Into little, tiny pieces so I wouldn’t choke. Can you imagine? I’m the one who taught her how to cut up a steak.”
“She means well.” Theo stole a tater tot from my plate.
Mack wagged his spoon at us, mindless of the tiny droplets of clam chowder that splattered on the table. “She does. But I’m nervous to tell her about my plan.”
“Knock it off.” I slapped Theo’s hand as he tried to liberate another tot.