Page 11 of The Road Sometimes Taken

“Hotel room, yes, and these are for your other staff friends. I know you said your boss, but I assume you have an assistant principal and the way you were talking to… what was her name?”

“Beth,” I whisper.

“Yeah, Beth. It seemed like she is important so I got her something, too.”

He’s always been this thoughtful—even though the media makes him seem like a superficial asshole. He’s such a good brother and friend to Allie and in part, he has been to me too, as much as I want to kill him sometimes with his antics.

“Mm, thanks? I have to go. Are you coming or…?” I ask.

“I thought you’d never ask. Our car is waiting,” he says, pointing at a dark SUV idling behind him. He opens the door for me and steps aside letting me in first, and then stepping in closing the door behind him.

“Where to, Mr. Zabana?” the driver asks.

“Where are we going, Cara?”

“Uh, to Limoncello,” I reply and the driver nods, puts the directions on the screen and we begin our twelve-minute drive to the restaurant. The SUV smells new so I know it’s not his, but I’m still shocked from the whole outfit, gifts in hands, and vehicle waiting for us to say anything.

“Talk to me about this party. Are we staying for long? Are these people fun? Do I need liquor to deal with your coworkers, or are they cool and I can drink wine?” he asks.

“Who invited you to stay with me?” I ask, raising my eyebrow and turning my body so I can face him.

“I’m coming along; no need for aninvitation,” Manny quips with a lighthearted voice. “I want to hear more about this road trip and everything else you’ve got on your to-do list for moving back. My siblings conspired against me, so I’m off work duty until Sunday.”

“You’re taking four days off? I didn’t think you could stay away from work for even half a day,” I reply, a hint of disbelief in my voice, bringing my hands to my chest and dropping my mouth open.

“No, I’m just not required to show up anywhere. I’ll be working from my hotel room tonight and tomorrow. But since I’m already here and don’t know anyone in the city, I figured some fresh air and a bit of distraction would do me good.”

Manny’s casual demeanor contrasts with the stress that’s been weighing on me, and it’s infuriating yet oddly comforting to have him around. As we drive through the city, I watch the neon lights blur past. The roads are bustling with life, the occasional honk of a horn slicing through the hum of the city.

We arrive at Limoncello, the sports bar that stands out from the surrounding buildings with its vibrant colors. The exterior is painted a warm, sunny yellow, with large arched windows framed by lush green plants. Soft, glowing lights are strung across the entrance and they cast a cheerful, welcoming glow. A vintage wooden sign with elegant lettering hangs above the door, swaying gently in the evening breeze.

We step out of the SUV and walk in; all the while, Manny’s hand doesn’t leave my back. It lingers there as he leads me where we’re going. It’s such a simple touch but one my body has craved for years. I’ve been so starved of physical touch that this little contact has my skin on fire. I’ve slept with plenty of people and had my shared fun but the subtle lingering touches, the protective touches—those don’t happen anymore and apparently I’ve missed them. The wind carries his scent of pine and something citrusy and maybe even mint, but all of itoverpowers everything else going on. He either wears the best cologne there is or I have to get laid, stat.

“Ms. Thompson!” Derek, one of the science teachers, shouts when he sees me. Everyone waves and smiles at us as we walk up to the area reserved for our school. This has become a tradition now: between the end of the school year and before our post-planning days, we have dinner at Limoncello on a Thursday. They have karaoke and the VIP area is right near the stage so we have free entertainment all night.

I wave my hellos and walk to the bar so I can order and start drowning my emotions in alcohol. I wish I could name them all, but somewhere between ending the school year and Manny being here, makes the move and the start of a new era feel all too real and I hate change.

“Hi angel, what’s your best local IPA?” Manny asks the bartender and with a giant smile she gives him a list. He orders one that I’ve never heard of and turns to me. “What about you, what’s your poison today?”

“Can I have a Dirty Shirley?”

“Sure thing, coming right up,” she says and Manny smiles at me.

“What?” I snap.

“I didn’t take you for a grenadine girl,” he answers, smiling bigger.

“Well considering that I have the taste of a five-year-old, Dirty Shirleys are where it’s at. Plus, Natalie spoiled me with her delicious wine and now everything I taste is too adult-ish for me. Speaking of my little kid taste, can you order chicken tenders too? I’m starving.”

The girl comes back with our drinks, takes the chicken tender order along with some potstickers for Manny, and passes him a napkin with her phone number and a wink. I roll my eyes at him after he puts it in his pocket.

“What? Can’t blame me, I just smiled at her,” he chuckles.

I get up with a groan and join my coworkers in the area reserved for us. There are maybe thirty people present, not many for the size of our school but all of my favorites are here and that’s what matters.

“Cara, come sit here,” Beth calls and I join her and the rest of the front office crew.

“Who’s this handsome man, Cara?” Colleen, Beth’s right hand, asks. But before I can introduce him, Manny takes charge of the conversation.

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