Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
“I prefer quiet.”
“Don’t be grumpy just because I don’t have any Irish jig music ready to go.”
“Irish jig music?” he says, giving me an incredulous look.
“Fine, what do you like to listen to?”
“Well, according to you, ‘Danny Boy’ on repeat.”
“We can download ‘Danny Boy.’ Here,” I say, fishing my phone out of the center console and handing it to him. “Have at it.”
“Madonna’s fine,” he grumbles. “What’s your passcode?”
“My birthday.”
To my surprise, Madonna’s “Holiday” begins playing mere seconds later.
“You know my birthday?” I ask, changing lanes to get around a semi.
“Apparently.”
“How?” I press.
“Oh, you know,” he says, dropping my phone back into the console and stretching out his legs in the passenger seat. “I have multiple calendar reminders set up. Every year, I agonize what to get you. I finally decide on something extremely sentimental but chicken out before I give it to you, so I have a decade’s worth of gifts carefully tucked away in my closet for when I get the courage to tell you how I really feel.”
“So hilarious,” I say in my best Irish accent. “Really though. How do you know?”
“We just spent nearly three hours in the DMV together,” he says. “Ample opportunity to see your date of birth.”
“Oh. Right.” I glance over. “Except I was in the DMV too and didn’t memorize your birthday.”
“I didn’t memorize it, I just … remembered it.”
“Fine, fine, but to even the playing field, when is yours?”
“March seventeenth.”
I’m delighted. “St. Paddy’s day! Really?”
“No.”
“Oh. Damn. So when? Damn it, man, don’t make me beg.”
He sighs. “May. The second.”
“May second,” I repeat, trying to store it away in the spot of my brain that remembers details, which honestly, is not a big part of my brain. “You’ll be … thirty-four.”
“Thirty-five.”
“Shoot. I was close though!”
“Congratulations. Are you going to tell me where exactly we’re headed?”
“Hudson Valley. There are a bunch of cute little towns up there, but we’re staying in one actually called Hudson. You been?”
“No car, remember?”
“Yeah, but the train drops off right there. You and Rebecca never take any getaways together?”
“We’ve been busy.”
“With what, world domination? Surely even you can find time for a vacation.”
“Not unless I’m kidnapped, apparently.”
“You weren’t kidnapped. Think of it as an extended driver’s ed conference.”
“That I didn’t ask for, nor express any interest in.”
“Don’t act like I dragged you to the car. Obviously a little part of you wanted to get out of town.”
“Or a big part of me didn’t want to deal with your badgering if I resisted.”
That too.
“Oooh. I love this song.” I reach out and turn up the music and proceed to show him just how well I know my Madonna lyrics.
“God save me,” he says. “It sings.”
Yes, and passably well, thank you very much. “Open Your Heart” is my all-time favorite Madonna song, so I know every word.
I hold my right fist out in a microphone shape and extend it to Colin, who, shockingly, does not play along, so I bring my “microphone” back to myself and belt out the chorus.
He thumps his head back against the headrest.
“I should have gone with ‘Danny Boy’ after all,” Colin says, raising his voice to be heard over the music.
But I’m pretty sure there’s a slight smile playing around his lips. He can deny it all he wants, but he’s having a good time.
Also, I make a mental note to learn all the words to “Danny Boy.”
Chapter 23
Saturday, September 12
“Right side, right side,” I command gently, and Colin corrects the car immediately.
“Sorry,” he mutters.
“Don’t be, that’s why we’re here.”
“And where exactly is here? These roads are barely paved.”
“I’m not really sure.” I look around at the trees surrounding us on either side. “I have a college friend who moved Upstate a couple of years ago, and she suggested we come out this way.”
Jocelyn had assured me it’d be unlikely to see any other cars or people since it’s mostly farmland, and so far she’s right. There’s nothing but Colin and me, trees, sunshine, and a car going about fourteen miles per hour.
“How’s it feel? Just like riding a bike?” I ask, glancing across the car.
He frowns. “The mechanics came back relatively easily. Adjusting to the right side of the road is a bit harder than I expected.”
“You’ll start to get used to it,” I say with confidence, adjusting my sunglasses. “We can take as long as we need. And let me know if you change your mind and want some music after all.”
“Do you promise not to sing?”
“I do not.”
“Silence sounds fine,” he replies.
I let him have his silence for once, partially because I can see that his knuckles are white at their ten-and-two position, and partially because I’m genuinely enjoying myself. There’s something surprisingly lovely about driving down a dirt road, the sun beating down through the windshield, and no one else around for miles, save for the person sitting beside you.