“I guess our pretend marriage is off.” I jokingly pout. “Our poor kids and your water polo team. It’s always hardest on the children when a marriage breaks up.” Park laughs, and I’m glad. I remember how happy Mary was when she thought her son had come to visit her. And I even remember a gleam in Park’s eyes as if he was enjoying her as much as she enjoyed him. “What happened to your parents?”
He glances in the side mirror, changing lanes. “I don’t have any.”
“Everyone has parents. Unless you were dropped on the orphanage's front porch by a stork.”
“Close. It wasn’t the orphanage's front porch. I was left in a cardboard box in Bradshaw Park in the middle of New Jersey. That’s how I got my name.” His face stays even, probably a consequence of all of his training.
My heart breaks for him and everything that he had to overcome just to get where he is today. No family? I can’t imagine my life if I didn’t have my family to fall back on.
My smile fades. “Oh, no!” I yell.
“What?” Park clutches the steering wheel tighter, looking behind us frantically.
“My family! They’re going to wonder what happened to me. I’m sure they’re worried sick.”
“The only time you’re allowed to yellOh, no!is if it’s an emergency or if someone has a gun pointed at our heads. Those are appropriate times to scream out. Anything else, like not seeing your family for a few days, is considered a little thing we don’t yell over. Does that make sense?” His grip on the steering wheel loosens.
“My family isn’t alittlething.”
“Okay, you’re right. You can call them when we stop, and tell them how you decided to go skiing for a few days or something.”
I unzip my purse, pulling out my phone. “Why can’t I call them now?”
“No.” I grab her phone, shoving it back in her bag. “You can’t use that. It will give our location away.”
“Oh, I didn’t know.”
“So let’s recap. No using your cell phone and no screaming unless it’s an emergency. Understand?
“Okay, sorry.” I blow out a breath. “I just thought about my mom, and the scream came out.” I zip my lips. “It won’t happen again.”
“That would be appreciated.”
The car beeps.
“What’s that?” I sit up straighter.
“That would be the gas light. I think you picked the only car in the parking lot that was on empty.”
I smile. “Well, at least now we can call my family, and I have to go to the bathroom. So it’s a blessing, really.”
“Such a blessing.” Park smirks as he veers the car off the freeway exit toward a gas station.
TWENTY-SEVEN
PARK
The car stopsin front of the gas pump.
“Wait here.” I open my door and climb out. “I’ll let you know when it's safe.”
I spend the next few minutes pumping gas, glancing around. When I’m done, I knock on Lacee’s window. She looks at me, confused.
“You can get out,” I mouth.
She shakes her head as if she’s still confused.
I roll my eyes, opening her car door. “We really need to work on our signals.”
