Michael’s phone was in the cup holder between us. Face-down.
About an hour into the drive, it buzzed.
He didn’t touch it. He kept both hands on the wheel. But I saw his jaw tighten.
It buzzed again.
“You want me to check that?” I asked. “In case it’s work?”
“No,” he said. Too fast. “No. It’s fine. It can wait.”
I looked at him. He kept his eyes on the road.
It buzzed a third time.
“Michael.”
“It’s nothing, Jenna.”
I didn’t say anything else. I looked back out the window. My stomach felt tight and sour, like I’d eaten something bad.
We pulled into Rachel and Tom’s driveway around five in the afternoon. Their house was beautiful.
White with black shutters and a red front door. Rachel had decorated the porch with pumpkins and hay bales and a big wreath made of fall leaves.
She came running out before we even got the car doors open.
“You’re here! You’re here!”
She hugged the kids first. Sophie and Ben loved their Aunt Rachel. She always brought them candy and let them stay up late. Then she hugged me. A quick hug, one arm.
