Page 166 of Double Fault

I’m trying to make sense of what she means when she throws the door open and drags me to the driveway.

When a large and unfamiliar Mercedes comes into view, I stop in my tracks. “What’s that?”

“Um.” She scratches the side of her nose. “Noah. He said he wanted you to drive something safer.”

I level my best friend with an annoyed look. “And you conspired with him on this?”

“When you put it that way, it sounds awful.” She rubs my arm in comfort. “But I didn’t think it was a bad idea. Your car was one encounter with a pothole shy of falling apart.”

“It’s a Toyota,” I snap. “They last forever. What am I supposed to do with this thing?” I wave at the silver monstrosity. “It looks better suited to doing my taxes than getting me around town.”

Lucy puts a hand over her mouth, stifling her laughter.

“I’m not joking,” I warn her.

“I know. That’s what makes it so funny. Take it up with Noah, but I’m pretty sure he hauled your old car to junk.”

I sigh in defeat. It’s exactly the kind of stunt he would pull. With another look at the time on my phone, I whip around. “Shit. If I don’t leave now, I’m going to be late.”

“Keys are inside the car.”

With a shake of my head, I stomp toward the oversized vehicle. “This is insane.”

Inside, the surprises continue. On the passenger seat, I find a designer handbag sitting like an obedient pet waiting for its owner to return.

That man issolucky he’s on another continent. Otherwise I’d hunt him down and slap him silly for this.

“How do I even start this thing?” I assess the dash and the blank screen where a stereo should be. Everything in the vehicle is so brand new and shiny.

I pull out my phone and Google the make and model, including a phrase that includes “how to start.” The first YouTube video in the search results goes over all the bells and whistles.

“I don’t have time for this.” I smack my hand on the steering wheel as I repeatedly tap the button that skips ahead ten seconds until I find the information I need. Once the car is running, I have to figure out how to shift into drive and reverse. Thisis ridiculous. I’ve been driving for years, though I’ve only ever driven cars, not fucking rocket ships.

Once I’m headed down the street, I ring Noah. It’s early evening in France, so hopefully he’s done practicing for the day.

“Hello, beautiful,” he answers with a smile. How do I know he’s smiling? Because I can hear it in his voice.

“What the fuck?”

“I take it you’ve seen the car?”

“What gave it away?”

He chuckles. “Don’t tell me you don’t like it.”

“Where’s my 4-Runner? You shouldn’t have bought me a car. Why did you buy a car?”

“To say I’m sorry,” he answers, his tone full of much more gravity now. “I…”

A rustling sound echoes down the line, like maybe he’s running his fingers through his hair. “I know leaving wasn’t easy. I’m sorry if I pushed you to do it and I’m sorry for being the reason you’re hurting, even if we both know this is for the best.”

“You’re sorry?” I grit out, focusing on keeping my temper held back. The last thing I need is to show up to lunch with Jessica in a rage. “You’re sorry, so you bought me a fucking car?”

“Most women would just say thank you and maybe offer to suck my dick.”

“Noah!” I almost drive off the road.

“Just saying.”

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