Page 135 of A Better Place

And not that I would ever admit it out loud, but it is tiny, especially with James’s large frame filling up the passenger seat.

“Normally I would have asked to drive, but I think driving this thing would actually put a dip into my manhood more so than me riding along,” he said smugly.

Fifteen minutes later, he rolls out of the car and dramatically presses his hand to his chest. “I see what you mean by not being a great winter driver.”

“Shut up!” I laugh, hardly being able to argue against him.

This morning after he woke me up and before we ate breakfast, we talked about options for cars and came to a good compromise between him wanting me to drive a tank and me realizing my limitations on the size of vehicle I can drive without risking dragging a tree or something behind me.

“Hey, Mom. Fancy meeting you here,” Jack jokes.

“You two will be the death of me,” I grumble, pretending to be agitated but not bothered by it in the least.

“Let’s get you something we won’t feel like our feet will make move faster.”

“Whatever,” I mutter.

James and Jack both belly laugh as we walk into the dealership.

And two hours later, Jack is following us in his pickup as we drive away in my new SUV, James in the passenger seat.

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