She gave me a look that was almost sympathetic. "Trust me, by the end of the day, you'll be wishing for the other kind."
"I don't care," I told her. "I'm just glad you called."
She tried to smile. "Oh, that's what you saynow."
"Ask me later," I said, turning my gaze back to the road. "I'll say the same thing."
She hesitated. "You didn't have plans today?"
I shrugged. "I had invitations. None I wanted."
"Yeah." She sighed. "I know the feeling."
I was still watching the road, but something in her voice – sadness, maybe – made me risk another glance. She was leaned back in the seat with her eyes shut and her hands fisted around the salad bowl, like she was holding onto it for comfort.
What was wrong?
In spite of the fancy dress, she didn'tlooklike someone heading to a holiday dinner. She looked like someone heading to the gallows.
But who was the hangman? Me? I didn't think so.
Over the roar of the engine, I said, "For someone who's about to put me through the ringer, you don't look too happy."
"That's because I can't just send you in my place." She opened her eyes and reached for her cell phone. She checked the time and frowned. "We've got ten minutes."
"Oh c'mon," I said. "What are they gonna do? Lock the doors?"
"You don't think they wouldn’t?" She made a scoffing sound. "You poor, misguided fool."
From the corner of my eye, I watched as she leaned down to shove the cell phone back into her purse. As she did, the salad toppled off her lap. The clear wrapping came loose, and half of the lettuce spilled onto her shoes.
She gasped. "Oh my God. Stop the car! No. Wait. Keep going." With desperate motions, she righted the bowl and looked down at the salad, which was now half the size as before. Her face grew pale, and she sucked in a breath.
She looked terrified. What the hell?
She gave me a quick glance. "Oh jeez, sorry about your floor mat." She pushed a trembling hand through her hair. "I guess I should've apologized first, huh?"
"Don't worry about it," I said. "It's just lettuce. No big deal."
"Yeah, I guess," she said in a distracted tone. "Good thing it wasn't soup, huh?"
"Salad, soup, whatever, it all cleans up." We were on a long straightaway. I turned to give her a better look. "Baby, what's wrong?"
She glanced down at the salad and shook her head. "It's too small." She reached up to rub her forehead. "This is bad. What am I gonna do?"
"Chloe," I said in a low, soothing voice, "it's just a salad."
"No," she snapped. "It's not just a salad. You don't get it. This? It's a big deal. Because everything's a big deal."
Still driving, I reached for her hand. "C'mon, what is it?"
"Nothing. It's fine." As if seeking comfort, her hand closed around mine, and I felt her fingers tremble. "Watch the road, alright?"
She had a point. We were going way too fast for me to be careless. Still, it didn't take much to see that something was very wrong.
And before we got there, I was going to find out.
Chapter 53
