‘Traffic?’ he asks the driver, and the driver replies, ‘Accident, I think.’

They stop completely.

Flashing lights from emergency services light up behind them, doggedly requesting everyone move out of the way to let them through.

‘Must definitely be an accident then,’ Evie observes.

‘You think?’ Duke snaps, tapping his foot in erratic rhythm.

Evie shoots him a look. ‘Hey,’ she says. ‘You can be anxious to catch them up without being an asshat to me, buddy. Cool it.’

Duke sighs irritably. ‘I think I can be afforded a little wiggle room on being an asshat,’ he tells her. ‘When this is your fault.’

Evie thinks he’s kidding to begin with, so laughs before quickly noting his serious face. ‘Oh, for real?’ she asks.

‘It was your idea to go up the hill,’ he says.

‘And the gun I held to your head that persuaded you,’ she retorts.

‘You’d been crying! What was I supposed to do, leave you?’

Evie’s jaw drops in temporary bewilderment. ‘So you walked around with me all night because you … what? Felt sorry for me?’

She holds his eye, bold and defiant. She doesn’t need his pity. This is exactly why she doesn’t tell people about her mom. She’s fine. She thought he wanted to take the stupid frickin’ walk. She was already making her way back to the hotel when she saw him. She’d only meant to smooth things over and make nice; she could have easily not bothered.

‘Well?’ she pushes, when he doesn’t reply right away.

‘Forget it,’ he says, turning his attention to outside, craning his neck to see what’s happening.

They wait, the air between them full of resentment. Evie isn’t sure what turn they’ve taken, but she sure as hell knows she’s seeing a side of Duke Carlisle that she doesn’t like. The sooner they get to Augsburg the better. She can see this isn’t anything close to what she thought, or if it was, she’s had a lucky escape. His moods are dark. Is it because he’s not used to having anything but a smooth, easy time? What is it they say – you can tell a lot about a person by how they handle lost luggage or a sudden downpour of rain? Apparently Duke can only be charming when everything is going right, and that isn’t real life.

More blue lights flash, more cars move to the hard shoulder to let them through, and they wait ten minutes, fifteen, thirty, Evie long having put in her AirPods and Duke continuing his effort to make his thumbs fall off from scrolling.

Forty minutes. Forty-five. It starts to snow. An hour. They still don’t move.

Evie sees the driver turn around to talk with Duke, so she pulls out an AirPod to listen.

‘What do you mean, closed until the morning?’ she catches Duke saying. ‘Can’t we take another route?’