Page 70 of The Rebound
Silence.
The heat is blaring in the car now and I shrug out of my coat, pressing my fingers against the vent until I can move them freely again.
Luke shifts in his seat, not saying anything, but something in his expression catches my attention.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Is there a service station around here?”
“You’re asking me?” I frown, trying to remember the journey down. “Not for another twenty minutes.”
“No problem.”
I glance at the dashboard. We still have half a tank of gas. “Do you want some water? I’ve still got a bottle of—”
“No,” Luke says quickly. “I’m grand, thanks.”
And suddenly the pinched expression on his face makes sense.
I bite my lip, trying not to smile. “Luke Bailey, do you need to go to the bathroom?”
He doesn’t answer for a long second. And then: “It’s fine.”
“Oh my God.”
“I can hold it.”
“Luke, it’s another forty minutes back before we get back. Just pull over.” A pained look crosses his face and this time I can’t help but laugh. “I promise I won’t look.”
And it must be bad because, though his embarrassment is clear, he slows down, stopping by the side of a hedgerow.
“One second,” he mutters before he disappears into the darkness of the bushes.
I get a burst of affection for him and I relax back into the seat, feeling better. Feeling a lot better in fact. This is the best day I’ve had in years. Out on the water, seeing Rory again, spending time with people who don’t just talk about work and numbers and money. I turn down the heat as I keep my eyes on the spot where Luke vanished. It’s barely a minute before he reappears, studiously avoiding my gaze.
“Better?” I ask when he gets back in.
He only nods as he shuts the door, rooting around the glove department.
“Wet wipes,” he mutters, producing a small plastic packet.
“How romantic.”
Luke hesitates for only a second but it’s enough to make me wish I never said it as the expression on his face changes to careful indifference.
Romantic.
I turn to the road, annoyed with myself as he shoves the packet down the side of the seat. Outside it starts to rain, a light but steady patter on the windshield. Neither of us speak.
Is this what it’s going to be like? Freaking out over every slip of the tongue? Constantly guarding what I say while we tiptoe around because neither of us knows where the other stands? What mood we’re both in?
It’s exhausting.
Luke turns the wipers on but otherwise doesn’t move, leaving the car to idle.
