“Well?” he asks.
“Well.” I stare at him long and hard, and suddenly I feel free. Light. Even giddy. Those ponderous ropes of convention, the ones that have been weighing me down, the seating charts, and menu options, and limits on the bar tab, the need to please my mother . . . they finally snap. “Okay, Detective,” I hear myself say as I slide into the warmth of the Caddy’s passenger side, “Let’s run away together. Right now. Take me to the nearest preacher and make me your wife!”
Reed switches on the ignition and we stare at each other a moment, then both of us start grinning as the Caddy rolls forward.