Page 10 of Ruined Vows

She takes my phone and puts it in the GPS. We drive in silence for several minutes, but it’s too quiet, and I can hear her breathing speed up again, so I turn on the radio to one of my loud, local country stations.

Her hand immediately flies forward and switches it off.

Almost as soon as she pulls back, I flip it on again.

She makes a furious little noise and reaches out again, but I block her hand. She immediately yanks back as soon as our hands make contact.

“That music is vile.”

“My truck, my rules.”

“This music is awful,” she snaps. “Do you even listen to the lyrics? It intentionally keeps people stuck in their own mindset. It reinforces the culture they grew up with and keeps them complacent against change.”

“Them’s fighting words, woman.”

“Don’t call mewoman!”

“Then don’t denigrate my music.”

“Your music.” She huffs out a high-pitched scoff. “Of course, this is your music. You probably haven’t changed your mind about anything, ever.”

“I change my mind all the time.”

She scoffs and reaches forward again, but instead of switching off the music, she just turns it down. “Oh yeah? When was the last time you changed your mind?”

“Senior year of high school. I decided I liked broccoli after all.”

“Ha. Exactly.”

“Changing your mind all the time seems wishy-washy to me. I’m a man of convictions.”

“Convictions like loving your truck and your whiskey? Ever notice how women in country songs are always singing about either getting revenge on their cheating boyfriends and husbands or escaping their shitty lives? Are those your convictions?”

“I never cheated once. You?”

When she doesn’t answer right away, I glance her way, surprised. Her mouth’s a little dropped open, but she immediately looks furious when she sees me looking at her. “Drew and I have an understanding.”

Who the fuck is Drew?

“Well damn, Red. See? Maybe some cultural traditions ought not to change. I wouldn’t have anunderstandingwith any woman of mine.”

“I shouldn’t have expected someone like you to understand.” She’s rubbing her temples with both hands.

“Have you been seeing anyone new who might be mad about this so-calledunderstanding?”

“Are youserious?” she says, voice about an octave higher than it was a second before, hands dropping. “Are you saying it’s my fault I’m being stalked?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth. I’m just trying to get an accurate picture. Jealousy’s a powerful motivator.”

“I know this might be hard for a caveman like you to understand, but some of us are a little more evolved than basic grown-up relationships.”

“Grown up,” I scoff. “How old even are you? Twenty-five? Twenty-six?”

There’s silence in the seat beside me. I frown and look over at her. “Twenty-four?”

She sits up in her seat and puts her shoulders back. “I’m twenty-two.”

Fuck me, she’s twenty-two?

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