Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 95256 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95256 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Ellie took the check from me without a word, stuck it in the bag at her feet, and resumed her previous pose.
“Are you mad at me?”
“Just drive.”
“Not until we talk this out.”
“I don’t want to talk, Gianni. There’s nothing to say, and the longer we sit here, the worse the storm is going to get.”
“I can’t even see,” I told her, switching the defroster to blow cool air. “You’re so steaming mad at me, you fogged up the windows.”
“I’m not mad at you.”
“No?” I cracked a window and she did the same.
“No. I’m just . . . mad.”
“You sure about that?”
“Yes.” She wrapped her arms tighter around herself as the air in the front seat grew icy cold and snow blew in. “I know you did me a favor by making the drive, I know my dad felt better knowing I wasn’t alone on the road, and I know everyone had a much better time at dinner with you there than they would have had with just me. So thanks, and let’s just leave it at that.”
I was silent a moment. “I thought you did a great job, and I’m sorry you didn’t get more chances to talk about what you do.”
“Well, who wants to listen to me talk about wine when they can listen to you tell tales of reality TV?” She blew a raspberry like Hadley had. “Bor-ing.”
“I didn’t think you were boring. And they loved the actual wines. That’s good, right?”
“You were supposed to stay in the background!” she burst out, finally looking over at me. “It was my show for once, not yours!”
“I tried! Swear to God, Ellie, I tried—they just kept passing me the puck.”
“And you had to shoot instead of pass it back?”
I opened my mouth to defend myself and closed it again. Hadn’t I sort of done what she was accusing me of? Told all my best stories? Landed all my favorite jokes? Charmed the women and bumped elbows with the men? It was my usual way when I was in front of a crowd.
I held up my hands. “You’re right. I’m sorry, okay? Once I get going, it’s hard to turn it off. I don’t know how to do anything else. I thought I was helping you by entertaining them.”
“Forget it. Let’s just go home.”
I could tell nothing I said was going to cheer her up tonight, and possibly the more I talked, the more I might upset her. I didn’t want to offer false hope about the 30 Under 30 spot, now that I knew it wouldn’t be offered to her—although I sure as hell wasn’t going to tell her Fiona had offered it to me. Not tonight, anyway.
Exhaling, I rolled up the windows, and slowly swung around so I could pull forward down the long drive. Snow crunched beneath the tires. At the foot of the driveway, the street wasn’t visible. No other vehicles were on the road.
“They haven’t plowed the neighborhood,” I said, turning onto the street. “I wonder if the trucks are on the highway.”
“Let’s hope so.”
My knuckles were white on the steering wheel, and I could hardly see five feet in front of us. When we reached the highway, I could see some tracks, but no other headlights or taillights. If the trucks had been here before, whatever they’d plowed or salted was buried now. “Fuck,” I said, leaning forward and trying my hardest to stay on the road. It was a near total whiteout. “This is worse than I thought it would be.”
“Me too.”
I started sweating beneath my clothes. If it didn’t let up, no way would we make it all the way back to Traverse City tonight. But I didn’t want to give up yet. I switched on the radio. “Maybe this is the worst of it. Let’s listen for a weather report.”
But the forecast was dire—in fact, the advice for drivers was to get off the road and find shelter.
“Shit.” Ellie was nervous too, her legs bouncing up and down, her thumbnail in her mouth. “Do you think we should do what they say? Get off the road and wait it out?”
“I’m not sure where we’d go,” I said grimly, wiping my forehead. “Fuck, I’m not even sure where we are exactly.” My GPS signal was weak, and I couldn’t see road signs until we were right beneath them—and even then, it was tough. “We might not make it home tonight.”
“Let’s just get off the road.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to keep going?”
“Can you see?”
“To be honest, no.”
“Then get off the road.”
I managed to spot the next exit at the last second and swerved to take it, the SUV skidding a little. Ellie gasped and grabbed the dash.
“Sorry,” I said.
“It’s fine. Just—just find somewhere to pull over so we can figure out where we are and what to do.”