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“Sure,” I tell him.
The rain quickens until it’s coming down in sheets. The blurry lights cutting through the darkness aren’t nearly enough.
“Fucking hell. Can’t see shit,” Troy says, slowing to a stop again.
I shiver. “It’s bad. What are we going to do?”
“We’re gonna pull over for a few and wait this out. Don’t see how I can keep driving in this crap,” he grumbles.
“Got it. Whatever you think is best.” I wonder how long this storm will last. If I have to swap my plane ticket out, I will, though flights will probably be delayed in this.
I must fall into my phone for a while. Because when I look up, Troy’s silvery eyes are locked on my face, staring through me with this odd, blank expression.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
“Yeah. No. Not exactly...” He inhales sharply before he says, “Eliza, listen. I keep thinking about it and I really don’t think you should mail Destiny that necklace. Neither of them need that ghost fucking haunting them again. It was such a shitty, sad experience. Cole, he’s spent years blocking it out. He couldn’t even remember buying the damn thing. But ever since that thing turned up, it’s been on his brain a lot. It makes him think more than he should. It isn’t healthy.”
“He really loved her.” I pull my phone to my chest.
“He didn’t,” Troy snaps, his lip curling. “That was the fucking problem all along. He tried, but he couldn’t do it. They were tossed together in crappy matrimony and they weren’t a good fit. She needed a different kind of man, someone stronger and more energetic than Cole. He wasn’t up to snuff, and that’s why he’s so damn broken up about it, even ten years later, if you want to know the truth.”
What the what?
I’m floored.
Where’s this coming from? I’ve never seen Troy look so unsettled, so mad, his cheeks painted splotchy red.
There’s another side to this man and it’s a little scary.
I don’t even process that we’re moving again through the downpour, darting through gaps in the traffic. He has to be guessing whether or not there are cars in front of him.
Rain slams the windshield like the entire sea crashing down on us, turning everything black.
I don’t even know what to say.
I’m deathly curious about Troy’s word vomit, but it feels like asking more will just make him...angrier?
Not wise in this weather.
Not wise at all.
“Umm—maybe we should pull over,” I suggest gently.
“Yeah,” he throws back.
But he keeps on driving, weaving the car around the back of a large truck, dangerously close to its trailer.
My heart climbs into my throat. “Can you still see here? Because I can’t...um, Troy?”
“Don’t worry, big mouth. I’ve got this.”
Big mouth?
I feel the color draining from my face.
I’m starting to worry. What exactly does Troy think he has under control?
The sky matches my feelings when it rips open again, drowning my fear in a deafening clap of thunder.
22
Wake Up And Smell The... (Cole)
Tom waits for me outside the office as I climb in the car’s back seat.
“Straight home?” he asks.
“No. We need to pick Destiny up from her internship.”
“Sir, I usually pick Destiny up by four. I do hope she hasn’t been waiting on us for over an hour.”
I know when to pick my kid up, I almost snap, but he’s just being as loyal as ever.
Instead, I say, “I believe she had to help with a presentation on sea lion vocalizations.”
“Ah. So our Destiny’s going to be the one to break the language barrier with sea life. I always knew she was special.”
I smile at the ridiculous joke.
We haven’t made it very far when a light rain turns into a proper deluge.
Half an hour later, we pull up in front of the aquarium. We’re just in time because the sky turns from a dense grey to an angry black that’s determined to drown this city.
Dess spots us and comes running around the car. The rain doesn’t bother her much when she’s assuming that leisurely I’m-too-cool-for-this-world pace teenagers love.
As she climbs in, she whips her head around, splashing water on me like a wet dog.
“Thanks, Fido!” I say, wiping rain off my neck with a scowl. “I would have moved or gotten you a towel like a normal human being, you know.”
She shrugs, fighting back a grin.
“What do you want for dinner tonight?”
Another shrug.
“Another pizza?” I guess.
Her head flops back and forth faster.
“Public Market?”
She responds with an eye roll.
“Sushi?”
“Dad, I barely like fish, not counting that stuff in Hawaii. God,” she whines.
“So you can talk? Are you planning to ignore me forever, Dess? We live in the same house and you’ll have your work cut out for you,” I growl.
She doesn’t say anything.
“Want to tell me how I get you talking to me again?” I ask her point blank, sick of the games.
