Page 15 of If Love Had A Manual

It starts as a deep, grinding rattle, followed by a metallic wheeze that sounds suspiciously like something dying.

Rosie flinches and lets out a tiny “ooh!” before burying her face against my shirt.

I stride toward the door, adjusting my grip on her as I yank it open.

Lena is scrambling out of a car that should’ve retired years ago.

My brain stalls.

How had I not noticed this thing before?

She wasn’t driving it last week, that’s for sure.

The ‘96 Camry is technically old enough to be a classic, if you ignore the duct-taped side mirror. The body is still mostly intact, but rust creeps along thewheel wells, and the once-glossy paint has faded into a dull, patchy red.

She shuts the door, turns toward us, and her face goes from pure chaos to a beaming grin in one second flat.

She takes a step, or tries to, but her dress is caught in the fucking door she just slammed shut.

Jesus Christ.

Lena curses as she yanks the dress, then mumbles an apology about her language that I’m not sure if I’m supposed to hear or not. She tugs at the door, swears again, then finally manages to free her dress.

Brushing down the fabric, she straightens up like nothing happened and marches toward us.

“Morning, beautiful girl,” she sings, tickling Rosie’s belly.

Rosie grins, showing off the tiny baby teeth she’s been working so hard for.

“Did she finish her antibiotics?” she asks.

“Yeah. She’s as good as new.”

“It’s hot today,” she sighs, grabbing a hair tie from her wrist and pulling her long, dark hair back into a messy ponytail.

I eye her, then glance at the car still sitting in my driveway like an abandoned relic from another time.

“Let me guess,” I drawl, raising a brow. “No air conditioning in the rust box?”

She gasps, placing a hand over her heart like I just personally insulted her family. “That’s Ruby.”

I blink. “You gavethata name?”

“She’s got character,” she says with a shrug.

I look at her.

Then at the car.

Then back at her.

“Character is one word for it.”

“It was my grandpa’s car. He can’t drive anymore because, you know…stroke and all.”

Staring at her, I do my best to process everything that comes out of her mouth.

Before I can even formulate a response, Lena suddenly snaps her fingers. “That reminds me. I’m going to need to take the car seat from your truck.”

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