Page 132 of Lucky 22

“Only if you do, too,” I murmur.

“Already ahead of you,” he breathes. His hand stays in mineas we finally drift off to sleep.

The airport’s quiet as we walk to baggage claim andthen head over to pick up our rental car. I wouldn’t say I’m well-rested, butI’m mildly refreshed.

Christian loads our luggage into the trunk, and when he’sseated behind the wheel, he’s all smiles.

He is definitely more of a morning person than I am.

At least today he is.

“Hey, so it’s obviously super early, and I don’t think I’mready to jump into the whole family chaos yet. How would you like to stop forbreakfast?”

It’s not the worst idea.

“Sure. That sounds good. Where do you want to go?”

“I was talking to my brother last week, and he mentionedthis new place he said makes the best breakfasts. Like…the best omelets, thebest waffles, muffins as big as your head…”

I start to laugh, even as my stomach growls. “Well, now wehave to go. The best omelets and muffins as big as your head? Thatsounds too good to pass up.”

“Excellent!”

The drive from the airport is familiar, and we canpractically do it on autopilot. And while I’m curious about where thisrestaurant is, I assume it’s on the way.

We’re going to my parents’ house first, and I wonder if Ishould text and let them know we’re stopping to eat before we get there.

“Uh-oh…”

Turning his head, Christian frowns. “What’s wrong?”

“You know my mom is probably planning on us eating breakfastwith them. I should probably let her know so she’s not worried, right?”

“I hadn’t even thought of that,” he murmurs. “So…yeah, sure.Text her and let her know where we’re at.”

“Okay.” And I do.

The second I slip my phone back into my purse, my eyes startdrifting shut. I am feeling the effects of the red-eye flight now.

“How much longer until we’re there?” I ask.

“About twenty-five minutes. Don’t worry. I’ll wake you,” heassures me, and I happily drift off.

It’s only when I feel the car come to a complete stop that Iopen my eyes. “Are we there?”

I sleepily look around, not recognizing anything. We’re notin a restaurant parking lot. We’re in a residential neighborhood. But not onethat either of our families lives in. This one looks like it’s still underconstruction.

“Um…Christian?”

“Hmm?”

“Are we lost?”

“I told you, we’re going to breakfast.” He says it socasually, so lightly. Like it makes perfect sense.

But it doesn’t.

“There’s a restaurant in the middle of a neighborhood?” Iask with amusement, straightening in my seat. There aren’t many houses, butseveral are under construction. “I’m so confused right now.”