“What about predators?”
“Predators? Where do you think we live, the Serengeti?”
“Stop.” He shook his head, like she was ridiculous, but amusement sprang up his face before he had the chance to tamp it back down. “There’s a pizza in the front seat if you want something to eat.”
She shut the door behind her and settled into the back seat. “You brought me a dogandpizza. You’re my favorite husband now.”
He stretched his arm over the dog resting between them and snatched the pizza box from the passenger seat. Waffle’s nose followed the box as if connected by string. “Glad to know I’m moving my way up the rankings in your husband collection.”
“You’ve officially unseated Greg, who was marrying me for French citizenship. But I’m still very fond of Raoul, with whom I’m wrapped up in a different but equally complicated transactional arrangement.”
“You weave a tangled web.” He handed her a slice of pepperoni on a napkin. Waffle’s snout hoovered up her arm. She plucked one curled pepperoni from the stringy cheese and offered him the scrap of meat. Accepting it with his front teeth, Waffle demurely placed the pepperoni on top of his paw to inspect it.
“I didn’t know you could get me French citizenship,” Elliot said, placing the box back where it came from. “That’s pretty valuable these days.”
She took a large bite, racing against both the dog and the napkin, which was rapidly turning translucent in her hand. “We’d have to stay married for you to get it, and we don’t like each other that much.”
He clutched his chest, wounded, but recovered quickly.
“So France is making more sense to me now. You’re from there.”
“Actually, I’ve never been. I’ve never been anywhere,” she corrected, swallowing. “But my grandma lived there for years, and my mom was born there.”
“So your plan is to go there, and then what? What do you want to do when you get there?” he asked casually, taking a large bite.
“Jesus, are you and Bree in cahoots?”
“Have I touched a nerve, Ms. Hodges-Davis?”
“I do not remember agreeing to hyphenate.” His eyes didn’t move. He wasn’t going to let her deflect.
She groaned. “Can’t I just want an adventure for myself? I’ve never had enough money or time to make any sort of plans, and when I finally catch one break, I have to figure it all out in a day?”
For years she’d been drowning in this town, furiously kicking her legs, trying to take a breath. Now, she’d barely made it to the surface and was exceedingly aware of how behind she was. It seemed like, while she’d been arguing with debt collectors and lining up odd jobs, everyone else had spent their twenties discovering who they were and who they wanted to become. Lainey only knew that she was too exhausted to be herself much longer.
“You know what I want?” she said, sitting up on her heels. “I want to try living a life where every one of my decisions is not dictated by my ability to afford health care.” She wanted to be free to exist. To discover. To make up for lost time.
“I bet after one month of eating nothing but cheese and bread and not stressing constantly over my most basic needs being met, I might decide I want to go to art school or be a mime orswim the English Channel for fun,” she continued. “Though…probably not the last one—I both respect and fear large bodies of water. But the other two? Maybe. I just want to be alive somewhere besides the only place I’ve ever been, and to see who I am there. Is that crazy?”
“Definitely not crazy.” His knuckle tapped lightly against the seat in a lazy rhythm. “I think you’ll go to art school.”
“You’re going to immediately rule out mime when you haven’t even seen me in action?”
“Oh, you’d be very good at that, too. I can already picture you on an upturned bucket with those folded cards saying, ‘Watch the Queen. Watch the Queen,’ but you’ve already pocketed the money.”
Lainey eyed him. “Are you confusing the art of miming with street hustling?”
“Oh shit, I think I might be.” He stretched his arm across, his thumb sweeping her shoulder for a beat too long to be purely accidental.
“Pizza’s good,” Lainey said quickly, pulling her shoulder back.
Elliot withdrew his hand and cleared his throat. “Yeah. It’s from Kwik Trip.”
“Classic.”
What are you saying?
He pulled out a laptop from the messenger bag lying at his feet. “Should we watch a movie or something?”
