I’m standing next to Jude at the bottom of Olivia’s staggeringly steep driveway an hour before her wedding. I look down at my green sequin vintage stilettos with their unfortunate five-inch heels. (The shoes were an impulse purchase once I forecasted the wedding photos in which my date was more than a foot taller than me.) I look up at the long stone path, which winds through topiary, several fountains, and probably a layer of clouds before ending at Olivia and Jake’s Laurel Canyon hilltop home.
We’re too early for the golf cart service that will be shuttling guests to the summit for the backyard ceremony. But we’re too late to drive Jude’s Rivian up and park in Olivia’s garage with the rest of the wedding party. The pedestrian gate is open, but theJurassic Park–like driveway gate is closed, and when we buzz the call button, it just rings and rings. Masha’s not answering her phone, I’m already twenty minutes past my arrival time for photos, and I’ll never make it up this cobblestone driveway in these goddamned shoes.
“Piggyback?” Jude offers. His tailored slate-gray velvet tux hugs his trim body. He looks electrifyingly attractive, and I’m really feeling his beard-and-glasses combo against his formalwear. But the man is not an ox. Sam, I might consider letting haul me up this mountain. After all, he’s done it before. But Sam is far away today, and Jude’s a different breed of date.
“Or we could steal that golf cart.” Jude points toward the opened garage of the one-bedroom bungalow at the base of the driveway. Olivia used to live in this bungalow, before she started dating Jake. Now, she’s converted the bungalow into a recording studio where she and Lorena produce their podcast. And, Jude is right, tucked inside the garage is an immaculately unmanned golf cart.
I eyeball the width of the open pedestrian gate leading up Olivia’s driveway. I take another gander at the golf cart. I touch the adder stone at my neck. I hadn’t planned to wear it to the wedding, but when I put on my bridesmaid dress, the combination looked too right to take off. No, Sam isn’t my date to this wedding, or probably to anything else ever again. That fling has flung. But for a moment, holding the stone he gave me on the secret beach, it’s like his spirit is with me. There’s no way in hell Sam would let a little driveway stand between him and his dear friend’s wedding.
I hobble toward the golf cart.
“What are you doing?” Jude asks.
“Finally, I get why everyone says you’re a genius!”
“I was joking,” Jude says behind me. “We cannot steal that golf cart.”
“We cannotnotsteal it. That’s what these things are for!”
“I thought they were for golf.”
“And pedimergencies! Get in.”
“Fenny—”
“The train is leaving, Jude.” I pat the pleather bench beside me. “I know you want a seat.”
“Have you ever driven one of these?” He sounds concerned as he slides in next to me.
“We’ll be fine!” I throw the vehicle into reverse. “It’s like riding a bike. I think.”
“Watch out!” Jude cries, gripping the metal frame as we whiz out of the garage and onto the quiet residential street.
“Dude, we’re going four miles an hour. It’s cool.” I make the hard right from the street onto Olivia’s driveway. Two brown-haired girls around ten years old point to us and laugh. This is a rush, and I’m enjoying it.
Jude winces, holding his glasses to his face. “You should come with a warning label.”
I glance over at him as webarelysqueak through the pedestrian gate. “You’re cute when you’re nervous.”
“You’re very beautifulwhen you keep your eyes on the road.”
The compliment, couched as a panicked threat, does something unexpected to my chest. It makes my heart pulse stronger. It makes me sneak another glance in his direction to see if he meant what he just said. I thought his eyes would be glued to the road, but when I glance over, he’s looking at me.
“Sorry,” he says. “That slipped out.”
“Hey!” A pair of young, tuxedoed valets run in tandem down the driveway toward us. “You’re not supposed to drive that! Stop the cart!”
“And now we get arrested,” Jude says, throwing up his hands.
“We got her warmed up for you!” I say to the valets, punching the pedal to swerve around them, laughing when they spin on their heels to chase us up the driveway. “That was fun. Should we circle back and do that again?”
I’m not usually like this, but Jude’s cautious nature brings out my recklessness. My wild side runs on the optimism that everything will turn out mostly okay in the end because I’ve glimpsed the end and Iknowthat this is true. Something about Jude makes me want to tempt fate, if only to prove to him that it’s real. Didn’t he used to have a wild side as a kid? I have this urge to wake it up.
We reach the top of the driveway without injury or death, and I can tell Jude is pleasantly surprised—or, at the very least, breathing again. I park the golf cart, climbing out with an exhilarated sigh.
“Run,” Jude commands, glancing over his shoulder. “The valets. They’re coming.”
“Oh, shit. They lookmad.” Giggling, I grab his hand and we run into the safety of Olivia’s house, closing ourselves in the half bathroom in the foyer and locking the door.
