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The next morning, Leighton’s quiet and limits any kind of contact or communication with me. I figure she’s freaked out from her nightmare, maybe a little embarrassed though she has no reason to be, or maybe she didn’t sleep as soundly as I did.
We agree to a quick workout, and once showered and packed, we’re on the road at a little after nine. More silence envelops the drive, and while I want to talk about last night, it’s easy to sense that she doesn’t.
That’s fine. For now. Our drive is eight hours without stops to Chicago, so we have plenty of time to address the elephant squished in the front seat of the car with us.
For lunch, we grab a sandwich for the road, and we’re almost through the state of Iowa when I can no longer take the silence.
I turn off the satellite radio and glance at her. “Did you sleep okay?”
“Uh-huh.” Her tone absent-minded, she’s fixed on her phone. “I’m changing the schedule. Instead of staying in Chicago for a day or two, let’s drive to Toronto tomorrow.”
It takes a few seconds for my brain to make the mental switch in topics and catch up. I’m thinking about her nightmare, and she wants to cut the drive short. Be home tomorrow.
“Why?” It’s all I can think to say, and really, what’s the big deal if she wants to shorten our time together?
Isn’t that what I want too? I’d no longer have to wonder if I’ll make it back in time. Or if I’ll have to find someone else to drive her for the final leg of the trip.
I should be cool with this. But I’m not. I don’t want anyone else driving her. I don’t want our time together cut short.
“What do you mean?” Of all the hours we’ve spent together today, now she finally decides to look at me with an eyebrow arched in that challenging, no-nonsense way of hers.
“I mean, first you weren’t sure if you needed to rush home, and now, all of a sudden, you can’t wait to get back.” I take my eyes off the road to stare at her intently. “What’s going on? I thought we were having a good time. I mean, last night aside.”
She turns away from me, and her shoulders round ever so slightly. “I’m the client. I call the shots. Right?”
Leighton might as well have punched me for the aloof way in which she ignores my allusion to what’s happening between us. Confused and pissed, I don’t bother to respond. She is the client and her point is taken. What else is there to say?
“Fine. We’re set. We’ll be in Toronto tomorrow.”
The shrill ring of my phone cuts through the tension. Eden’s name and number appears on the car console. I’d connected my phone to the Bluetooth. I hit the button to answer, and before I can say a word, Eden’s breathy voice fills the car. “Tom, thank God you picked up. I need you here.”
Leighton gasps, fingers fisting in her lap and spine straightening.
“You all right?” I’m not sure if I’m asking Eden or Leighton.
“Yes. No.” She sighs and lets out a dry laugh. “You know what this is about and how much I don’t want to talk about this.”
Brent. He’s the only one we’ve talked or texted about these last few days. Last we texted, nothing had changed, and as much as I wanted to help, I can’t fix or do anything while driving.
“Eden, I can’t talk right now. Is it urgent or can I call you later?” Raindrops hit the windshield with a light splatter from the graying sky.
“Sorry. You’re working. I shouldn’t have called. I miss you. We all do. Hurry home.”
Leighton squirms in her seat, and I chuckle and can’t resist adding, “I miss you too. I’ll call you in a few hours. Okay?”
I watch the sharp line of myclient’sback practically stiffen like an ironing board as she awkwardly swivels to look out the window. Maybe it’s childish to want to get a reaction out of her, yet I can’t help but think she wants to be home tomorrow because of how I make her feel. Or more like how we make each other feel. I feel it too.
“Call when you can. Bye.” Eden hangs up, and Leighton keeps her back to me while I try to remember where our conversation left off.
My phone rings again and this time it’s Drew, my brother-in-law. Leighton turns slightly, clearly checking the name on the screen. Relief washes over her as she sinks back into the leather seat.
This time, when I answer, I put earbuds in and take the call off speaker. The rain picks up, thunder splits the sky, and the sun has dipped behind a wall of dense, bluish-gray clouds.
“Hey, Drew, what’s up?”
“Hey, Tom. I’ll keep this short. I’ve got to be in court soon and Pip tells me you’re on a road trip or something. Helping August out?”
“Yep.” I flick on the wipers to keep the fast-falling rain from obscuring too much of my view.
