Page 47 of Missed Exit

I set my guitar aside. “If I told you I was ready to bring the necessary people to the table to increase your exposure, would you show up for that meeting?”

“When?”

“Tomorrow at two.”

“I’ll be there at one-forty-five.”

“Right answer.”

“Where do we meet?” he asks, unable to keep the trembling excitement out of his voice.

“I was thinking the Pecan Street Café.”

“Yeah, that feels right.” He smiles like a seven-year-old-kid with a brand-new guitar.

“I guess the only thing left to do tonight is cut the cake and sing Happy Birthday to your lucky ass.”

We sing the song and cut the cake. And then Derringer sits on Greta’s couch, borrows my guitar, and gives us a private performance that none of us will ever forget.

24

Greta

No More Detours

Idoafinalsweep through my side of the duplex. It’s as empty as the day I moved in. Law honks his horn in the driveway, so I sit right down in the middle of the living room floor and take a few more moments to appreciate all the changes that happened here. Never thought I’d be leaving so soon.

Never expected anything at all about my time here to go the way that it did.

And the changes keep coming.

I climb up into the truck, and his exasperated expression morphs into a smile. “No regrets about selling your car?”

“Oh, yeah. I don’t know what I’ll do without the constant fear of where I’ll be stranded when it breaks down next.”

He leans over for a kiss. “We’ll get you into a new car as soon as we have an address to put on the paperwork.”

“We’ve got a long list of places to look at.”

“I don’t doubt that for a minute. You ready to put Agate Ridge, Texas in the rearview mirror?”

“I’m ready.”

Our last kiss on the driveway where we officially met lingers. I think we’re both feeling a little nostalgic about how this all got started. But it’s time.

“I’ll navigate,” I say, reaching for his phone mount and turning the screen toward me.

“No, thanks. I’ve seen your navigation skills.” He repositions his phone exactly like he had it before I got in. “You’ll have us missing all our exits.”

“I’ve only missed one exit in my entire life, and that was your fault.”

He puts the truck in reverse and backs away from our first shared address, where I was A and he was B, even though he got here before me. “The fact that you still believe I caused you to miss that exit is further proof you should not be trusted to navigate.”

“Hey, remember this?” I flip him off from the passenger seat.

“Aw, there’s that sweet girl who stole my heart on the interstate.”

“Says the insufferable ass who cut me off.”

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