Page 25 of The Top of Admiration
“Ready?” I asked.
She gave me a small nod, cheeks pink, and suddenly seemed to snap out of her stunned state. “Hang on, this is your car. I thought Jules drove?”
“Nope, he offered and I’m not dumb. I hate driving to the airport, even in no traffic and Seamus is useless past 9 pm,” Jules clarified, climbing into the backseat after Seamus, who promptly fell asleep. Miranda climbed silently into the passenger seat.
The first few minutes of the drive were quiet. The only sounds were Seamus’s snoring and Jules’s annoyed huffing in response. Miranda kept sipping her coffee, staring out the window. I figured she was exhausted: jet lag, middle-of-the-night airport pickup, and her own tendency to fill silence with nervous chatter. I didn’t want to press.
But when she sighed, soft, like she didn’t mean for me to hear, I asked gently, “You okay?”
Her head snapped toward me. “Oh, yeah. Totally fine. Just … tired.”
I smiled. “You don’t have to pretend. You look like you fought a war up there in the sky.” Ugh. Did I just insult her? I was king of smooth. But she didn’t seem to care. She gave a crooked little grin. “Thanks. Just what every woman wants to hear—‘you look like you survived a plane crash.’”
I winced. “That’s not what I—”
Her laugh cut me off. “Relax. I know what you meant.” Her laugh, tired as it was, warmed the car more than the heater did.
About twenty minutes into the ride, Miranda spoke again, voice muffled as she held the coffee cup close to her face. “You didn’thave to come, you know. The airport. At three a.m. That’s… it’s really nice. Unexpected.”
I glanced at her. “Unexpected in a good way?”
She hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. In a… ‘I’m not used to people doing that for me’ way.”
And there it was—the quiet punch to my ribs. I didn’t know all the details, but I knew enough about her ex to understand that Miranda hadn’t exactly been treated like someone to be cherished. The idea that something as small as carrying her suitcase or showing up with coffee could throw her off balance made my heart ache and swell at the same time. She did everything for her family and friends, and in her closest relationship, she waged the battles of life alone.
“I wanted to,” I said simply. “That’s all.”
She ducked her head, sipping again, but I caught the way her lips twitched into a smile she was trying to hide. I did something right. Of course, I had to ruin my own smooth moment five minutes later.
About twenty minutes into the ride, I cleared my throat, trying to sound casual. “So, uh … was it, you know, just all work? Or did you, uh … meet anyone while you were there?”
Miranda squinted at him. “Meet anyone?”
Shit. “Like, people. Colleagues. Men—uh, I mean—not just men, obviously. Women too. But, like … men who were … around.”
From the back seat, Jules choked back a laugh, proof she’d been feigning sleep.
Miranda’s lips curved into the slowest, most incredulous smile. “Actually, yes. I really bonded with Dom. We cooked together and he made me an amazing meal on my last night, complete with specialized wine choices. He was a darling.”
Who the fuck was this Dom? I forced a smile but suspected I looked like Bruce the Shark from Finding Nemo. At least this guy was not in the same continent as her. But what if they stayed in touch?
“Yes, he was so smart too. I guess 89-year-old men have a lot of life wisdom,” she smiled reassuringly at me.
I groaned and rubbed the back of my neck. “Forget I said anything. I’m clearly terrible at small talk.”
We stopped at a red light, and I risked a glance at her. She’d kicked off her sneakers and tucked her legs up in the seat, hoodie sleeves pulled down over her hands, coffee balanced on her knee. She looked comfortable in my car, more comfortable than even she seemed to realize.
“You’re staring,” she said suddenly, without looking at him.
Busted. I cleared my throat. “Just making sure you’re not about to fall asleep and spill that coffee all over my dashboard.”
Her lips twitched. “Mmhmm. Very conscientious of you.”
The rest of the drive passed in bursts—quiet stretches where Randa dozed lightly against the window, then sudden jolts of conversation where she said something that made me laugh too loud. The steady sound of Seamus’s snoring was the only steady soundtrack in the car.
When we finally pulled up outside her place, I hopped out before she could protest and carried her suitcase up to the door. I was irritated that Seamus and Jules were closer to my house, giving me no opportunity to have Miranda alone in my car.
“You really don’t have to—”
