Geesh. It’s as if we’ve met before. Nope. I meant it in the most literal sense. Seeing, staring, gawking at Quinn is very nice. Seriously, would it be too weird to high-five Addy? I want to give her a slow clap for a job well done.

“You for thank everything.”

Addy chuckles.

I said that. Gah! I’m tongue-tied over a man while standing in front of his wife.

“Or …” Jake grips my arm, pulling me out of the kitchen. “Thank you for everything.”

“Yes …” I nod, mildly grateful for my translator. The gratitude will wear off by the time we get in his truck.

We make it out the door without any further embarrassment, load up Swarley, and take off for our next destination. Dear God, please let it involve a room key, running water, and thick terry cloth robes. What are the chances my asshole driver knows other ridiculously rich people between here and L.A.?

“Just so you know, I’m done talking to you. What you did was unforgivable.”

Keeping his eyes on the road, Jake nods. “I’m totally good with you being done talking to me, but I’d hardly call what happened this morning unforgivable.” He turns up the music.

As minutes and miles pass, my bladder fills—mourning each rest stop we pass. If Swarley would speak up with a simple whine, Jake might pull over for a pit stop.

Nope.

Swarley’s asleep.

Bump. Bump. Bump.

After four hours, we hit a stretch of road that’s in need of new pavement. I could ask him to pull over, but I made a vow of silence until he apologizes to me. If I urinate in his truck, will it expedite his apology without me saying more than “oops?”

When the St. Louis arch comes into sight, he pulls off the main road, takes a few dizzying lefts and rights before pulling into a gas station. My bladder cheers while my dignity wipes sweat from its brow.

I jump out, waddling into the building as quickly as I can without springing a leak.

“Don’t worry. I’ll let your dog out.”

I don’t have enough bladder control to acknowledge Jake. Maybe he can read my mind. Yes, Jake, let Swarley out, and I won’t piss all over your truck. Fair trade? I think so too.

“Ladies’ room?” I flash the cashier a tight smile.

“Unisex restroom. Just one. Side of the building.”

Gah! Side of the building. We’re in a major city. The restrooms should be inside the building. I make a U-turn.

“Ma’am, you’ll need the key.” He holds up a key attached to a chain—attached to an old steering wheel. It looks like something from a vintage car or maybe even a tractor. It’s huge.