Page 59 of Love's a Script
Thrown by the questions, his intended words left him, and his focus narrowed to the overlapping chatter coming from her end and the slight strain in her voice. “You okay?” he asked.
“I could use your help.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
“Our ride will be here in five,” Mary called into her apartment. She stood in her entryway ready to go, waiting on her sister. It was the morning of the polar plunge, and Mary already couldn’t wait for the day to end. It was colder than forecasted, the painkillers for her headache hadn’t kicked in yet, and her sister was getting on her last nerve.
“You need to oil the hinges on your door,” Hattie said as she exited Mary’s bedroom where she’d been changing.
“Noted,” Mary tensely said. It must’ve been her sister’s dozenth complaint about some element in her apartment since she’d arrived. Mary might’ve been equipped to engage with Hattie if not for her own testy mood.
“Hope you don’t mind, I’m borrowing a hoodie,” Hattie said.
“Yeah, it’s fine—wait, no, not that one,” Mary said, approaching to take Ruben’s National Broadcasting Association hoodie from her sister.
She’d yet to return it, but it was on her to-do list. Mary refolded the hoodie and walked it back to the drawer it had been hiding in, returning with one of her own for her sister.
“I liked the other one. It’s baggy,” Hattie said as she reluctantly slipped into the sweatshirt.
“Well, it’s not mine.”
Her sister looked at her. “Whose is it?”
“I borrowed it.”
“Yeah, okay. That doesn’t answer the question,” her sister said. “Are you seeing someone?”
“What? No.” Mary stepped into her boots and gestured for her sister to follow suit.
“Come on, tell me the truth,” Hattie said. “Don’t make me hire a PI.”
“That is the truth. I borrowed it from a friend, okay? We need to get going now. The car is almost here.”
Hattie dropped the subject, for which Mary was grateful. She was trying to do less talking and thinking about Ruben. She’d gone entire days, sometimes two in a row, without considering him, her feelings for him, or his lack of feelings for her. It had made her believe she’d surmounted the emotions, and she’d tuned into his radio show one evening to test herself. Immediately, she’d failed as her heart quickened, simply listening to his conversational lilt while he interviewed some economist. Minutes later, she was on the verge of tears and rubbing an ache on her sternum.
The sisters left the apartment to find their ride waiting and greeted their driver as they settled into the back seats that smelt faintly of cigarettes. Not long into their journey, while Mary was watching the scenery change from closely packed buildings to stretches of undeveloped land, Hattie asked, “Can I get my registration bib?”
“I don’t have it,” Mary said, frowning. “Why would I have it?”
“I told you to grab it from the counter.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Yeah, I did.”
“Then I didn’t hear you.”
“Clearly.”
Mary took a breath, gaining control of her emotions before asking the driver to turn around. The retrieval was quick, and they were again on track to get to the plunge site on time. But before they could leave the city limits, they took another diversion from the predetermined route on the GPS.
Mary pressed forward to ask the driver, “Everything okay?”
“Yes, yes,” he replied. “Need to check something.” He tapped the dashboard where a series of lights were blinking. They pulled into the empty parking lot of a high school—twenty minutes away from their destination.
When the driver exited the vehicle to open the front hood, Hattie mumbled, “We’re going to be so late now. I hope he knows what he’s doing.”
“Can you just fucking stop complaining?” Mary said.
