Page 9 of The Road Sometimes Taken

“Drinks are in the fridge, Manny. Make yourself at home while I try to figure out what just happened.”

I set her stuff down and sit across from her. I may not be a huge dude, but I certainly feel taller than my six-foot-two in this matchbox-sized home. My eyes keep wandering the room and when they land on Cara, she’s looking at me with her eyebrows raised.

“Got anything to say about the house? It doesn’t pass your minimalist and expensive as shit vibes?”

I smirk at this because she’s not wrong. I do like minimalism, but not for the reasons most people think. It’s just easier to work from home in a place that doesn’t feel homey. It makes Mom sad that I think like that but it’s the truth. One day, I’ll devote my life to something else—or someone else—and maybe they can make my house a home. In the meantime, black, gray, and beige with abstract decoration works.

“I’m surprised but it also suits you,” I say. “Cara, I know this took you by surprise, but can we please talk about your plans? I don’t have a lot of time before I have to make a decision about what I’m doing.”

“Manny, just go home or go to work or wherever you need to be. I’m a big girl and I can handle it. And by the way, I’m not thirty yet, you ass—that’s still two years away,” she adds, and I’d forgotten I even mentioned age earlier. Maybe that’s what hit a nerve and now she’s in a sour mood. Half the time I forget I’m twenty-six, so I really didn’t mean for it to be a big deal.

“Talk to me.” I loosen my tie and pull it over my head, setting it on the cold table beside me. I unfasten the top buttons of my shirt deliberately, feeling the fabric shift against my chest. As I slide my jacket off, I catch her gaze as her eyes flicker to me. I roll my sleeves up, exposing my forearms, then slip off my shoes, the soft thud echoing in the quiet space. Placing my arms on my lap I add, “What were your plans? And how come just two months ago, you didn’t want to drive?”

Her eyes scan me before she lets out a huff and answers, “I hate driving. I hate people on the road acting stupid, and I hate all the variables. Do you know how many people die in car accidents every day? Too many, Manny, too many. So, I didn’t want to drive.”

She stops momentarily, then puts her head back and closes her eyes. My attention should be on what she’s telling me, but my eyes wander to her pouty pink lips and to her long lashes.Then to the tiny piece of skin between her dainty blouse and her slacks. I’ve always been attracted to Cara. She’s gorgeous and her personality adds to the appeal. However, she’s older than me, has always been with the jackass,andshe’s my sister’s best friend so it has never been a possibility. Just a crush. A want. A what if.

“Are you even listening to me?” Her voice is coated with a mix of frustration and hurt. I can feel the weight of her words hanging in the air.

I know better than to offer anything less than a simple, earnest affirmation, so I nod and murmur a quick, “Yes.”

“Anyway,” Cara continues, her tone shifting, “that’s why Allie was supposed to drive me back. But then I decided to be a grown-up and take the road trip I’ve always dreamed of. Allie and Jake are all starry-eyed and caught up in their honeymoon phase, and honestly, I don’t want to be around that. Nor do I want to be the one to have them spend two weeks apart after not being together for so long. That would be really bad juju, and God knows I could use all the good vibes I can get right now.”

“What trip?” I ask, unable to keep the curiosity out of my voice.

“Manuel,” she sighs with a hint of exasperation, “you ask too many questions for someone who’s usually glued to his phone.”

“Yeah, that’s what happens when you run an empire, Cara,” I reply, a trace of defensiveness creeping into my voice. “But it doesn’t mean I’m not capable of holding a decent conversation that is not about business.”

“Isn’t that what you do for a living? Smooth-talk people into doing whatever you want them to do? Well, it won’t work on me, Manny.”

“Actually, not at all. I help people make financial decisionsthat make sense for them. But also, I don’t need to butter you up, Cara,” I counter, my tone softening. “I’m just trying to be a friend.”

She lets out a frustrated sigh, her eyes narrow. “Fine. What is it?”

“What is what?” I ask. She’s always going a mile per hour. Always laughing, running, dancing, and her jumping. Her actions and words blend together into one big explosion of joy. Right now, all that energy is about to explode, and I don’t think joy is what will come of it.

“What is it that you’re truly doing here, Manny? Are you really here to just drive or are you here to meet a quota? Is there a reporter out there, seeing you with the charity case of the month? Or are you getting ready for the newest article—” She jumps up and stands on top of the couch, puts her hands under her chin like a microphone and says, “We’re here outside the residence of a sweet school teacher, where Manuel Zabana is currently donating his precious time and money to help her to stop spiraling.”

Cara continues rambling, performing for me and I just want to laugh. I don’t think this will do either of us any favors, so instead, I get up and clap. I clap like I’m her audience and she just put on a show. This catches her off guard and she finally stops talking. I grab her hand and pull her off the couch. She jumps down with a yelp, right into my arms.

“Settle,” I whisper gently against her forehead. I learned early on that telling someone to calm down doesn’t help, especially after growing up with an anxious sister and trying to help her through difficult times. I found that “settle” can work sometimes, and when it doesn’t, I have a list of other phrases ready to go. Not that I use them often, but it’s reassuring to know they’re there.

She tenses at my touch, but I don’t let go, wrapping myarms around her even tighter. I can try to be the ground she needs right now or at least I can try.

“Cara, breathe.” I even my own breaths, hoping that she’ll match them and when she does, her breathing slows as her shoulders sag. “That’s it, breathe for me.”

“I need to go outside,” she insists, stepping away from my hold and heading back to her front door. I follow her outside and around her house. There’s a narrow stepping-stone path leading to a wooded area near the water. She leaves her sandals behind and walks barefoot over the stones; her steps deliberate as she heads toward the trees. She plants her heels firmly into the ground, takes a deep breath in and then lies down on the grass.

I’m not doing that in my Tom Ford pants, but I can stand by her and try to figure out what’s actually happening. She might be losing it, but right now, laying on the grass with her eyes closed and her lips slightly parted—she looks more beautiful than ever. And fuck me because I need to focus, but Cara’s proving that to be harder and harder the more time I spend with her, and this is not even day one.

“I’ve always wanted to go on this epic road trip. But there’s always something to do and somewhere to be,” she says. “I want to be able to explore and hike; swim in random places, go to a country bar in a town nobody knows me and… let go. I want to sing karaoke and thrift shop to go to an event.” Cara lets out a breath and turns around to face me. “I want to travel and see the world. I want to live outside of the two cities I’ve called home my whole life and this summer I can finally do it. My parents agreed that I don’t need to work at the diner and with me moving back, I have time before I have to be back at work in August. I have six weeks to do whatever I want—well, three really, if you count when I need to be in Atlanta for my friend Alex’s wedding, but yeah.”

“What’s stopping you, then?” I ask, staring at her lying on the grass with her eyes closed and her hands digging into the dirt.

“I hate driving,” she admits, blowing out a breath and her eyes fluttering open to look at me.

“But you like exploring more, no?”

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