Page 40 of No More Billionaires

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not letting you walk down the highway alone at night—with or without your phone. We’d better get started. It’s not going to get any warmer out there.”

He popped the trunk and grabbed my small carry-on bag, leaving his laptop bag and our larger suitcases inside, which was smart. There was no way we’d be able to drag them all the way to… wherever we were going.

Unfortunately, we’d made it beyond the city limits before the gridlock stopped us. Stepping out of the car, I couldn’t even see a gas station.

“How far back do you think the last exit was?” I asked, shuddering at the difference in temperature.

I’d been wrong. The interior of the car hadn’t been cold.Thiswas cold.

Larson squinted back over the hundreds of vehicle roofs lining the highway behind our car.

“I don’t know. I’m pretty sure it was at least three miles. Can you make it that far?” He shot me a sympathetic glance.

“Do I have any choice?”

“Well, you could… I could walk with you over to the shoulder and hold up your coat or something to shield you while you…”

“Let’s go,” I said, starting to weave between cars to get to the breakdown lane.

Larson fell into step with me, and we walked side-by-side down the highway, both breathing out white puffs of steam and shuddering with cold.

“Well, here’s an experience you don’t have every day,” I said, trying to keep my mind on anything but my icy toes.

“True. At least we’re not bored, right?” Larson played along. “I can’t say trekking through the frozen tundra of Tennessee was on my bucket list, though.”

It was almost eerie walking past the still, silent cars, like something out of a book by our mutual favorite author.

Some had headlights or interior lights on. Some were dark and empty. Many contained couples or families, who watched us as we passed, sometimes offering a wave or a look of commiseration.

We passed one car with three children bouncing around in the backseat.

“Those poor kids.”

“I don’t know, they look pretty warm to me,” Larson said. “In fact, I may go back and knock on the window—see if they’ll let me join them.”

After about a mile, we both fell silent. I no longer thought about how cold my feet were because I could no longer feel them. The walking had actually made my body warmer, except for my exposed nose and ears and fingers.

I had stuffed my hands into the pockets of my long wool coat, but it was a remnant of my fashionable past and was really more for looks than protection.

My fingers throbbed with pain. I pulled them from my pockets and tried rubbing them together in front of my face and breathing on them, hoping the paltry bit of warm air might help.

“Come here.” Larson grabbed my right hand inside his, causing me to stop momentarily. His fingers were as cold as mine but his palm was warm, and it felt heavenly to my frigid hands.

“We’d better keep going. We’ve come too far to go back now.”

“Okay.” I left my hand inside his as we started walking again.

The principle of shared body-heat must have been in effect, or either it was my body’s embarrassing reaction to touching Larson, but all of me felt a little warmer than before.

Well, not my toes. I still couldn’t feel them.

After what seemed like hours of torture, we finally came to an exit ramp featuring signs advertising food, gas, and lodging.

“Oh, thank God. I don’t think I could have gone any further really,” I admitted.

“You and me both. I can’t feel my face anymore. Is it still there?”

As I confirmed Larson’s face was indeed intact, the snow turned into sleet and freezing rain.

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