And part of that change meant keeping a lot of his personal feelings to himself.
“It’s just something I always wanted to do,” he lied. “Take my time, see the sights, go where the road takes me. Besides, this route is pretty famous—when it’s all done, we’ll have bragging rights.”
Lauren started to respond, but snapped her jaw shut.
He handed her a book like an emissary trying to avert war in France. “I made a list of things to see along the way.”
“This trip can’t take a week,” she said.
“It can, actually. If you don’t rush through it.”
The look on her face told him she was not amused.
“So, is this like, your vacation?” A deep, worried line set into her forehead.
“Yeah, something like that.”
“I really don’t want to go on vacation with you—I thought it was just a ride home. And to be perfectly honest, I don’t want to go home either, so this is, you know, a lot.” He thought she might hyperventilate. “Who takes a road trip in December? That doesn’t even make sense.” She was talking to herself now. “Why wouldn’t you do this in June or July or any time other than Christmas?”
“I’m a baseball coach,” he said. “Hard to vacation during the season.” And, if what his dad had told him was true, it was now or never to get this trip done.
She paused, and he couldn’t help but wonder what was going on in her mind.
“But you’re going on a vacation alone?” She sounded genuinely confused—baffled that he would do something she considered so strange.
“Not anymore.” He smiled.
“Have you booked our rooms?”
“No.”
“Figured out stops?”
“No.”
“Made any plans at all?”
“Yes.” Then, after thinking about it, “Well, no. The plan is to drive the historic highway from LA to Chicago, then drive the hour from there on home.”
“That’s the whole plan.” There was disbelief in her voice.
“That’s it,” he said.
“I can’t believe this.”
“Oh, I get it. You’re one of those live-by-your-phone, schedule-every-second-of-your-life kind of people, aren’t you?”
Her brow drew into a tight line. “No.”
He grabbed her phone, and her hand, as if by reflex, followed it, connecting with his jaw in a hearty thwack.
She gasped and covered her mouth with both hands. “Oh my gosh, I’m sorry.”
“You just totally hit me,” he said.
“I didn’t mean to.” Her eyes were wide. Apologetic. Dark, deep brown. “Are you okay?”
He rubbed his jaw. “I’m fine, slugger. I know this isn’t your ideal way home, but I’m a pacifist.”
She looked away. “I’m not comfortable with this arrangement. She paused. “I can find another way.”
“Okay,” he said. That probably would be easier.
She didn’t move. Had he called her bluff?
“I can look up flights,” he offered.
“No planes.”
“Oh, that’s right, Spencer told me you hate flying.” That was an understatement. According to Lauren’s brother, the last time she got on a plane she had a panic attack so bad they had to do an emergency landing. For a fleeting moment, he felt sorry for her.
She clutched her bag in her lap, looking trapped and miserable.
“A train?”
“Too late to get tickets.”
“Dogsled?
She turned to him, not amused.
“Yeah, you’re right, they’re probably booked too.”
She lifted a corner of her mouth and tilted her head.
Finally, a crack in the wall.
“Well, you’re here. Might as well stick it out.” He started the car. “But you are not driving.”
“Why not?” she asked. “I’m an excellent driver.”
“I’m sure you are, but I like to be the one in control of my vehicle.”
She glared at him.
“Or, you can stay here and tell your brother you’re going to miss the birth of his first child.”
“Sorry.” So, thank you and sorry both appeared to be physically painful for her. Noted. “I was expecting three days in the car, so this is going to take some getting used to.
“And you don’t like when plans change, right?”
“No. I don’t,” she said. “I’m sure it’s hard for someone who takes off on a seven-day road trip with no hotel reservations to understand.”