By the time we land in San Francisco, I’ve reached speech draft number eighteen and I’ve still no clue what I’m going to say to Jake. On the other hand, my brain’s positively fried. As I don’t have to claim any luggage—I’m traveling light—I head straight to the car rental to pick up my car.

At the concierge, there’s a bit of a line—five people before me in total. Damn. I hate waiting in line. Especially after the traveling and lack of sleep. I hope all the good cars won’t be gone by the time my turn arrives. The clerk seems a super slow and fastidious one. It takes her forty-five minutes to sort through the customers before she finally gets to me.

“Good morning. I need your name, driving license, and credit card, please.”

“I’m Gemma Dawson; I’ve made an online reservation.”

“Yes, I have your booking in the server for a three-day rental. Is that correct?”

“Correct.”

“Just a second.” She types away at her keyboard. “Would you like to add insurance, ma’am?”

“Yes, please.”

“All right, your credit card has already been charged for the rental amount when you booked online. I’ll add insurance and charge a deposit fee of five hundred dollars. The deposit won’t be withdrawn from your account, but it’ll be on hold, meaning it won’t be available for you to spend. Once you return the car, the amount will be made available to you in two business days to a week. Is that okay with you?”

“Yeah, sure.” Deposit, plus insurance, plus the rental itself, plus the plane tickets. These will max out my credit card. I should have brought more cash.

“Okay, the credit card’s taken care of. You can have it back.” She slides it across the counter. “I just need to input the last few details for the insurance…”

“Sure.”

“Oh.”

Oh? What is she oh-ing about? I want ‘very well’ or ‘here are your keys’, not ‘oh.’

“Is there a problem?” I ask, on edge. This is taking way too long.

“I’m afraid so, madam. I apologize; I should’ve checked before. Your driver’s license appears to have expired.”

“What do you mean, ‘expired’? That’s impossible!”

“Madam, it says here it expired a month ago.”

I check the expiration date. “Oh, gosh!” My palms get clammy at once.

“Have you been driving with this?”

“No, no. I live in London. Nobody drives there.”

“A U.K. driving license would be fine too.”

“I don’t have a U.K. driving license; I’d never be able to drive on the wrong side of the road with no casualties.”

“If you don’t have a valid license, I can’t rent you a car.”

“But I need to go to Napa! How will I get there without a car?”