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We share a grin at a stoplight. “I’m glad we stayed friends.”
“Yeah, well, now that your gold standard and disgustingly charming English gentleman is finally out of my way, we can negotiate adding benefits.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m not a complete animal. I’ll give you time to mourn,” he says matter of fact, scrolling through his phone, “how about a week from Tuesday?”
“Shut it. We need to get our heads in the game. Tell me about the offer.”
“The terms are simple. The offer is killer, despite the recent drop in share price. It’s pretty open and shut. We’re meeting their lawyer at two.”
“That was fast.”
“The majority shareholders have already signed off on it.”
“The offer is that good?”
“That good. If you use the money the way I think you’re going to, we’ll be able to do a lot more. But are you sure you want to do this?”
“Yes. Why do you keep asking me?”
“Why now?”
“Because I’ve avoided it long enough.” I take a turn onto the familiar road and a smile graces my face as it stretches out before us.
I can feel Ryan pause next to me. “What’s that smile?”
Rolling the windows down, the wind whips through the car along with the whisper of a memory, of a voice.
Eggs—runny, coffee—black.
“Music,” I say softly, turning up the radio, “loud.”
“What’s that?” Ryan says, flipping through his cell.
“Cars,” I finish glancing his way before flooring the gas, “fast.” Ryan’s eyes bulge, his jaw going slack before I turn my attention back to the road and open it up. Racing down the straightaway, I feed on the exhilaration as the hairs on my arm start to rise.
“Cecelia?” Ryan’s voice rattles with anxiety.
“Yeah?” I manage through a laugh.
“What are you doing?”
The lyrics of “The Pretender” by the Foo Fighters blasts through the car. I shake my head ironically and shift. If it’s memories I’m unearthing, then I plan on doing it right. I’ve faced the boogeyman, hell, I fell in love with him and survived. I survived a lot more than that.
It’s time to unpack.
I glance over and answer him honestly.
“We’re blowing the dust off.” We shoot forward, and Ryan lets out a ladylike shriek.
“Cecelia, slow down before you make me a praying Christian!”
A laugh bursts from my lips. “Hang on.”
“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” Ryan mumbles in pure fear next to me just before we skid around a curve on all fours. I correct the wheel, downshift, and stomp on it, plastering him back in his seat.
Ryan slaps one hand to the dash while gripping the oh-shit handle with the other. “Yep, I just tasted the omelet I ate this morning.”
