PACING her living room after having stowed her suitcase in the car, Carmela second-guessed her decision. Pondering excuses for why she and her guest couldn’t attend the wedding at the last minute, Carmela couldn’t come up with anything believable. Deceit wasn’t her strong suit, even if the plan had disaster written all over it.
Ugh, Rhiannon was right. I should’ve just sent regrets and a gift. Before her mind could spiral out of control, the sound of a car idling in her driveway snapped her out of it. Buck up, Carm, and get it together. It’s too late to turn back now.
Opening the door before Rhiannon had a chance to knock, a new kind of nervousness flooded her system. In white pants and a stripped navy cable sweater, wearing her hair in a neat ponytail, Rhiannon looked like an adorable sailor.
“Your dad must be so excited to have his car back,”
Carmela said as she nodded approvingly at Rhiannon’s small, black, convertible BMW.
Rhiannon slid her sunglasses to the top of her head and smiled her arresting smile. “He said as payment for loaning me his for so long, I have to let him borrow this one whenever he wants. My mom said he’s not allowed to drive it alone,” she joked.
Lost in her gleaming gray eyes, Carmela did nothing but grin until her brain reset and sense returned.
“Congratulations. It’s very nice.”
“Thanks.” Rhiannon’s full lips curved into a smirk. “Hey, do you know any good realtors? When we come back from the trip I need to find an apartment.”
“Hmm . . . that’s a tough one. I’ll have to see who I can find for you,” she replied, playing along.
Rhiannon chuckled. “Come on, we don’t want to be late to the opening ceremonies.”
They each started for their own vehicles, and when Rhiannon sat in the driver’s seat instead of coming over to her car, Carmela walked over to her driver’s side window.
“You want to drive separately?” she asked when Rhiannon rolled the window down, openly confused.
“Nope, but I think you’ve driven me around enough. Grab your stu and let’s go. I’ve got snacks,” she explained, pointing her thumb to a cooler sitting in the microscopic backseat. “And they’re damn good. My mom made them.”
“It’s almost a five-hour drive to the Keys. Are you sure
—”“Let’s go or we’ll miss getting laid,” Rhiannon insisted before popping open her trunk.
Carmela’s eyes widened for a moment before she recalled the itinerary and note to expect being greeted with a lei.
“You’d think they’d have gotten the message that cultural appropriation is not a good look,” she joked.
Rhiannon smiled as she slipped her sunglasses back on, making it easier for Carmela to breathe. “What do you expect? We’re talking about a woman stupid enough to leave you.”
Turning on her heels, Carmela grinned as she pulled her things out of the car and transferred them to Rhiannon’s
new one. Noticing she’d taken her advice and purchased something pre-owned, her chest tightened.
A few minutes into the trip, Carmela was surprised at how cautiously Rhiannon drove on the highway. In all her life she’d never been enamored by someone’s pathological use of a turning signal.
What the hell is happening to me?
“I’ve been thinking about someth
ing. I don’t want to lie to anyone. Not correcting assumptions is one thing, but if someone asks directly, I’m going to say we’re friends,”
Carmela blurted as the pressure receded from her shoulders.
Rhiannon kept her attention trained on the entrance to the highway. “Friends, huh?”
The response was unreadable and opened a pit in Carmela’s stomach. “It’s the truth, right? Are we not friends?”
An eternity stretched and contracted until Rhiannon finally answered. “Yeah. I guess that’s true. But I still plan on looking at you like the gorgeous woman you are, so don’t expect that to sound too believable.”
Turning up Rhiannon’s terrible pop music in place of further comment, Carmela tried her very best not to smile.