Page 28 of The Last Trip

Phone in hand, I dial his number and wait for him to answer.

“Well, hello there, stranger,” he teases.

“Hey, I was just wondering which hotel you’re staying at in Lexington.”

There’s a long pause before he says, “Um, I’m not sure. Why?”

“You don’t know which hotel you’re driving to right now?”

He clears his throat. “Well, I have it in an email, but no, I don’t know it off the top of my head. I have the GPS set to get me to a restaurant first since I’ll want to grab a bite to eat for dinner before I check in.”

I click my tongue. “Oh.”

“Why are you asking?” Does his laugh sound nervous, or is it just my anxiety talking?

“I was going to send you a little surprise,” I tell him, thinking quickly.

He chuckles again. “Honey, you’re sweet, but you don’t need to do that, okay? Just rest. Watch trashy reality TV or read a book, and I’ll call you when I get there.”

I swallow, my throat suddenly too tight. “Um, okay.”

“I’m going to go. I was just pulling in to get gas. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Before he ends the call, my keys are in my hand, and I’m out the door.

With just a five-minute head start, it’s easy enough to catch up to the black Camry at the gas station down the road from our apartment complex. At least he wasn’t lying about that. I parknear the back, ducking down when I spot Cal walking out the door with a bottle of water and an apple in his hand. He scrubs the apple skin against his pants before taking a bite.

Water and an apple.Even without an audience, he still makes the healthiest choices. I swear, this man always appears to be auditioning for the world’s most put together person.

Once he’s in the car and pulling out, I ease out of the parking spot where I’m hiding in plain sight. I keep four cars between us on the highway, my eyes trained on his car, matching him as he switches lanes and makes turns. So far, it seems like his story might’ve been accurate after all. He turns onto the interstate that would take him toward Lexington, and my heart strangely deflates. I should be happy he’s telling the truth, but somehow, it’s just further confirmation that something is wrong with me instead. That my brain is playing tricks on me, making me worry over nothing. Maybe yesterday with the nurse wasn’t so bad either. Maybe I’m overreacting about a lot of things lately, including the couple from the rental. Maybe I was rude to them when I didn’t need to be.

I’m planning to pull off at the next exit, to turn around and make my way home, when Cal makes a move I didn’t expect. He crosses two lanes quickly, and I follow. Then he gets off at an exit that definitely doesn’t lead to Lexington. He’s heading toward downtown.

The school, maybe? But why?

Keeping back a healthy distance, I follow him through the streets of downtown and toward a neighborhood called The Gulch, where I once took a makeup class on contouring with some friends. When he pulls into a parking garage for a building with a gym and a smoothie place, I know my instincts were right all along. Something is up with Cal. My gut does a little flip as if it’s glad I’m finally listening, followed by a sudden sinking feeling.

I can’t follow him into the parking garage. I’ve been lucky thus far being able to stay back far enough that he wouldn’t notice me, but there’s no way I can pull that off in a parking garage this small. And even if I could, the entrance is marked for residents only, and I can’t see what code Cal is typing in at the small terminal.

Thinking quickly, I drive farther down the block until I find a single street parking space. Normally I’d avoid parallel parking with every fiber of my being, circling the block until I gave up rather than attempt it, but right now, I don’t have much choice. I also don’t have time to make sure the parallel parking job is done well, just that I’m far enough over that I won’t get hit by something before I dart out of the car. Or…at least Itry. It’s much harder to move at a few days shy of thirty-eight weeks pregnant, let alonedartanywhere, but I do my best. Carefully, I shuffle down the sidewalk, holding my belly in place while internally panicking that I’m either going to lose him or get caught without any credible explanation for what I’m doing here. He’ll know I followed him. He’ll know I didn’t trust him.

For all I know, maybe this is one of the other professors’ condos, and he’s coming to pick them up so they can ride to the conference together. But then why wouldn’t he have mentioned that? It’s something that would’ve come up, isn’t it?

When I reach the parking garage, I’m out of breath. Considering my blood pressure lately, I know this is probably not a good idea, but I have to know. I have to know that the man I’m about to start a family with is still the good man I know him to be.

Inside, I try to slow my breathing as I look around. There’s only one direction to go, so I walk it slowly, keeping myself close enough to cars that I could easily hide if I need to.

In the shadows of the parking garage, it’s hard to identify each car and whether or not it’s his.

Note to self: the next time we car shop, his only option is bright, look-at-me red.

When I hear his voice behind me, I freeze, terrified I’ve been caught.

“Hey, just letting you know I’m on my way up.”

I turn toward the sound, crouching down between a silver minivan and a green truck.

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