Page 35 of Can We Skip to the Good Part?

SIXTEEN

The Cutest Little Red Car in Virginia

“ Y ou’ve got to be kidding me.”

Perhaps Ella had been on too big of a winning streak, because once she returned to her car after lunch, she was brought straight back down to earth when her beloved Mini made pathetic choking sounds instead of starting.

This wasn’t good. After a few more minutes and soft words of encouragement like, “You are the cutest little red car in Virginia, and you definitely have another ride in you. You’ve got this,” Ella had to admit the car was not coming back to life.

She took out her phone and typed a quick message to Max, whom she’d just shared a sweet goodbye with on the corner before she walked back to work.

You know anything about cars?

Her reply came almost immediately.

Incredibly useful. Fast. Can be chick magnets. But not how to fix them, no. Trouble?

Mine gave up on life.

Give me five minutes.

True to her word, Max, in her beautiful black Range Rover, pulled up alongside the small paid lot near the restaurant. “Hop in. We can wait in the climate-controlled splendor for the tow truck.”

“You did not have to do this.”

“I wanted to.” There was something sweet in the way she’d said it, and Ella glimpsed a strand of vulnerability.

Rare and a little startling. She had a feeling that the more time they spent together, the more she’d glimpse the Max beneath the ultra-put-together exterior.

She couldn’t help but crave just that. She wanted to know every facet of Max.

The tow truck arrived even faster than the woman on the phone had promised, and once the Mini was on its way to the shop, Max rescheduled a meeting and offered to take Ella home.

“It might seem like I staged this whole thing to spend an extra twenty minutes in your presence.”

Max tossed her a glance, holding the wheel with one hand, shades on, totally looking like the sexy corporate boss she was in life.

“It had crossed my mind.” She added a smile and went back to the road.

“If so, I applaud the commitment to the charade. Tow trucks aren’t cheap.

Good thing you’re sought after by famous authors. ”

“That’s right. I am! I almost forgot.”

They drove to the up-tempo sounds of Dua Lipa dancing the night away as Ella began to brainstorm ideas for Alexandra Raymond’s next contemporary small-town cover. The assistant had offered her a one-page description to get her started on the brainstorming path.

“Two impromptu adventures with you in a row,” Ella said, as Max coasted them into the driveway. Then she raised a brow. “Well, three if we count last night.”

“Why would we not count last night?”

“I don’t know the rules for these things, Maxine. I’m shooting from the hip.” She hopped out of the car and grinned when Max quickly followed her.

“I really like your hip. Both of them, by the way.”

Ella turned as Max covered the steps to the porch and slid her arms around her neck. “You sure you have a meeting? Because today’s been fun, but we can probably make it more fun.”

“What’s a meeting again?” Max asked and caught Ella’s lips with her own, and it felt like all was exactly as it was supposed to be. Her heart rate escalated, her toes curled, and her body went warm. That’s what happened when the two of them were together. Everything just worked .

“I thought I heard voices out here,” Rachel said, emerging with a proud smile.

They froze. Ella felt the blood retreat from her face.

Her fingertips went numb, and the effect crept across her skin.

No, no, no . This couldn’t be happening.

The smile faded right from Rachel’s face.

Automatically, Ella took a step back from Max and searched Rachel’s eyes, trying to communicate that this wasn’t all it seemed.

Except it was. Rachel pursed her lips, her eyes wide with understanding. “I see. It was never Ariana, was it?”

This was a nightmare playing out in slow motion, and all Ella wanted was to wake up, rewind the last three minutes of her life, and do them all over again another way. “No.” She took in air. “And I’ve wanted to talk to you about that. I was planning on?—”

“Don’t. It doesn’t matter at this point.” She looked around. “And I’m obviously in the way here.”

Max took off her sunglasses. “Rachel, I think?—”

“I honestly don’t need to hear a word from you, who was kissing my best friend on my porch just seconds ago.” She turned back to Ella, and the hurt slashed across her features shook Ella to her core. “And I’m not sure what to say to you, except this: I thought we were friends.”

“I know.” She nodded. “And we are, Rach. God, I’m just?—”

“I can’t listen to this. Not right now.”

“Okay.” She rolled her lips in and dropped her head to her chest, surrendering to Rachel’s wishes.

Max stood off to the side, seeming to understand that less was more.

But all Ella could think about was fixing this immediately.

While she did what she could to compose her thoughts and come up with the magical words that would do just that, Rachel went inside, grabbed a bag, and walked to her car, which was parked on the street.

That’s why they hadn’t seen it in the driveway.

She must have come home for lunch and hadn’t wanted to be blocked in.

With Rachel about to drive away, Ella couldn’t stand it another minute longer.

She hurried down the driveway and stood next to Rachel’s window, panic rising in her chest making it hard to breathe.

“I love you, and I’m sorry, and I want the chance to explain everything.

Can we take a minute? Just the two of us inside? ”

Rachel rolled down her window and looked Ella straight in the eyes.

That’s when she saw them, the tears, big and plentiful, wet on Rachel’s cheeks.

She’d done that. She’d hurt her friend, and she hated herself for it.

In an instant, none of the reasoning, none of the justifications she’d given herself recently made sense.

It was like a light had just been turned on in a dark room, and she saw the error of her ways so clearly now.

She should have communicated, been honest, and allowed Rachel to hear her out.

She’d crossed a line that she couldn’t uncross, and in the process, had done actual damage to the one relationship she’d always been able to count on.

“I need to get out of here, Ella.” Her voice was low and raspy. She hit her steering wheel. “And I have a damn director’s meeting in an hour and I can’t look like this.”

“Come back inside. I’ll get you a tissue. We can touch up your eye makeup.”

“Do you not get it? I don’t want anything from you. You’re a traitor. And a damn good one. Please step away from my fucking car.”

Ella, with tears of her own threatening, did as she was asked and watched Rachel pull away, driving faster than she usually did. That left Ella standing in the middle of the street, lost, guilt-ridden, and not sure what to do with herself.

Max arrived quickly and pulled her into a hug. She wanted to resist, to insist that everything about them felt wrong now, yet, somehow, she didn’t. Couldn’t. She needed Max in this moment, especially knowing it might be their last.

“It doesn’t feel like it right now, but it’s going to be okay,” Max murmured. Her warm breath against the side of Ella’s face was comforting. Being held was. Not that she deserved it. “You two are friends. You have some things to work out, but you will.”

Ella straightened out of the embrace and nodded.

“I hope you’re right.” She looked down the now-empty street in the direction Rachel had driven.

“But you didn’t see the look on her face just now.

She’s never looked at me like that before.

” Her voice had been reduced to a whisper, emotion having strangled what was left of it.

The ache in her chest was near unbearable.

“And she’s right. I’m the definition of a traitor. ”

“No, you’re not,” Max said. “You were put in a difficult spot and reacted in a very human manner.”

“Don’t let me off the hook.”

“Us. I was right there with you.”

“Yeah, well, my duty to my friend certainly outweighed yours.”

“Still.”

“Yeah.” Silence. “Still.”

“What now?” Max asked, squeezing her hand. It was supportive at most and not at all romantic. Didn’t matter. Instinctively, Ella pulled hers back because they just couldn’t.

“You go. I stay.”

Max nodded. “Are you going to answer me when I check on you later?”

“I don’t know,” she said, wrapping her arms around herself. “And I only say that because my brain is not exactly working at the moment.”

“I know.” She tilted her head in the direction of the house. “Let’s get off the street.”

They walked back to the house together with the weight of fifty lead balloons tethered to them, a complete contrast to the spring in their step just fifteen minutes ago.

How quickly the world could flip on its end.

There was a valuable lesson here, and when Ella returned to herself, she vowed to learn it.

This was bad. This was really bad.

Rachel hadn’t come home from work, and it was close to eleven. Ella knew because she’d checked the time on her phone every time she’d looked to see if a text from Rachel had snuck in without her hearing it.

She’d tried to work. She’d tried to eat. She’d tried to come up with the perfect words to make this whole situation better. Even sitting with a pad and pen hadn’t helped her find them. It felt like her abilities were broken in every sense of the word.

One of Rachel’s friends had posted a photo on Instagram of them at Dirty Little Secret holding up lemon drop martinis. Rachel looked like she’d had a couple, which made sense, Ella having stomped on their entire friendship and all. However, it was late, and she would usually have been home by now.

Even though Ella felt like she’d been run over by a truck with a crying-induced headache and a sour stomach, there was no way she was going to bed until Rachel was safe back home where she belonged. They didn’t have to talk. She just needed to see that she was safely in bed.

An hour passed.

Then another.

Why hadn’t she added Rachel to Find My Friends once she’d moved to town?

It seemed like such a stupid thing to miss now.

She walked to the front window and stared at the driveway, willing her friend to arrive.

Self-recriminations pinged from every part of Ella as she slid to the floor in front of the armchair that had once belonged to Rachel’s grandmother.

She’d relegated it to the front room because she didn’t want to get rid of it, but it hadn’t matched the rest of the decor.

It was now after 1 a.m., and something had to be wrong.

If this had been one of the romance novels she read for Weepers, Rachel’s car would have veered off the road, or she’d have been kidnapped or robbed.

Her victim status alone qualified her for tragedy on a night like this one, but Ella couldn’t let herself think that way.

Her mind was already running away with itself when a pair of headlights lit up the entire room.

She exhaled, harnessing the relief that came over her.

Rachel. Finally. Relief spilled from her chest to her limbs.

Her heart hammered as she stood at the window, watching her friend exit an unfamiliar car, likely an Uber, and make her way up the walk with a less-than-perfect gait.

She’d definitely been drinking, but had done the responsible thing and gotten a ride home.

Thank God, Ella wouldn’t be calling hospitals all night.

She turned on the small blue lamp and stood just as the front door opened with a whine.

They’d needed to oil the hinges for weeks.

“Hi,” Ella said. “Um, you don’t have to talk to me, but I just want to make sure you’re okay.” She was shaking again, nauseous, too.

Rachel turned at the sound of her voice, and when they made eye contact in the dimly lit space, Rachel went still. “You’re still crying.” The tone in her voice was flat but not combative.

Ella shrugged. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Trust me when I say I don’t want to.” A pause. “But I do.”

Ella waited, absorbing the unexpected words.

“I know I can be a selfish bitch.”

“I would never call you that.”

“Well, you wouldn’t be the first. And maybe I need to work on that and become a more thoughtful friend, but I never would have gone behind your back.” She’d said that last part with a bite.

“I know.” Ella nodded, taking in every word and emotion. This was a moment for her to listen, rather than explain.

“Here’s the thing. I would have fucking hated hearing you and Max had something going, but I would have dealt with it.”

“I know.”

“What I can’t handle is you hiding the truth, walling me off from your actual life like I’m this child.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Sorry, the room is spinning.”

“That’s okay. And you’re right. I completely decided how you would react and panicked. I screwed up and am not sure how to fix it.”

“I don’t know if we can,” Rachel said, her voice steady but edged with the lingering weight of hurt. She turned and walked out, her footsteps fading down the hall, probably en route to her room, to the quiet refuge of space and distance.

But then, just as Ella braced herself for the cold finality of that exit, Rachel reappeared. She strode back in without hesitation, her expression unreadable, and before Ella could say a word, Rachel pulled her into a tight, unwavering embrace.

Ella froze for a heartbeat, then shattered. The dam inside her broke, and a fresh wave of tears spilled down her cheeks as she clung to Rachel, her fingers fisting into the back of her sweater like she might disappear again if she let go.

Rachel said nothing—she didn’t need to. The warmth of her hold, the strength of it, was enough. It was a balm, an unspoken promise that maybe, just maybe, forgiveness wasn’t out of reach.

That moment of grace was everything to Ella. It was oxygen in a suffocating room, a flicker of light in the wreckage of guilt and regret. And for the first time in hours, she could breathe again.

Rachel hadn’t ended their friendship or kicked her out, which she had every right to do. Time was what Rachel needed. Ella could certainly put in the time and work required to rebuild her trust. It was a kernel of hope that Ella wasn’t sure she deserved, but promised to pay forward one day.