“You do not like Piper?” Faiza sounded genuinely distressed.

“It’s complicated,” he said. “You see, Piper’s crazy in love with me. I have to keep her at a distance.”

Piper snorted.

“Oh, no,” Faiza cried. “Piper is not crazy. She is very intelligent.”

This launched Coop into an explanation of American slang. By the time they’d cleared the Wisconsin Dells, he’d taught Faiza not to take words like crazy or awesome literally, as well as explaining the meanings of cool, chill, hang, and What up?

Faiza’s giggles made Piper’s heart sing, so she was shocked at how peevish she sounded when she said, “Knowing American slang won’t do her much good in Canada.”

“They have American television in Canada,” he pointed out.

Piper was ashamed of herself. Just because she’d been feeling left out was no reason to be so churlish.

Like most men, Coop hated to stop the car, and she accused him of timing them when she and Faiza ran into a service station restroom.

“Glancing at my watch doesn’t mean I was timing you,” he said righteously.

She gave him the hairy eyeball. “How long did we take?”

“Six minutes and thirty-two seconds.”

As irritating as she sometimes found him, he could still make her laugh.

“Buckle up, ladies,” he said. “This spaceship is taking off.”

They reached Duluth midafternoon, and he finally let Piper take the wheel—mainly because she was sitting behind it when he reappeared from his own restroom trip. “Five minutes, fifty-two seconds,” she said. “You’re holding us up.”

Faiza giggled from the backseat.

“Four minutes tops. You’re lying.” But he climbed into the passenger seat without protesting.

The wild beauty of Minnesota’s North Shore, with its rocky bluffs, cobblestone beaches, and breathtaking views of Lake Superior, was a well-kept secret from most of America, but Duke had brought Piper to the North Shore on several camping trips when she was a kid, and she’d always loved the area. The signs they passed for fried walleye, smoked whitefish, and wild rice pancakes made her desperately miss the old chauvinist with all his flaws and all his love. Coop was more taken with the advertisements for homemade pies.

“Pull over!” he ordered as he spotted a road sign for the ominously named town of Castle Danger. She turned into a rustic restaurant facing the highway. He emerged not long after with three slabs of pie. “Caramel apple pecan.”

The pie was too hard to eat while she was navigating a twisting, two-lane highway, so she couldn’t do more than take in the delicious cinnamon fragrance while Coop made exaggerated moaning sounds and provided a food-porn narrative about flaky crusts and gooey filling. “What do you think, Faiza?” he said. “Best pie you ever tasted?”

“Delicious,” she replied, but the closer they got to the Canadian border, the more nervous she’d become, and she only took a few bites.