“Go ahead and do it. See if I care. It’s not like I can’t do the exact same. I bet your brother would love a piece of this.”

Daniel’s lips tighten like he’s fighting a smile. It’s a moment before he’s able to respond. “Well, then it’s a good thing we’re heading there right now, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Maybe you don’t even have to come in. You want me to spend time with him so much? Just stay in the cab. Give us a good three minutes. If he’s anything like you, we won’t need much longer.”

Daniel’s eyes widen and he drops his face into his hands. He’s completely silent but the way his back shakes, Lynell can tell he’s laughing. Finally, he lifts his face again and it’s so red, Lynell wants to let out her own laugh. When he speaks, he sounds so angry she might have been convinced he was never laughing if he didn’t finish the sentence with a wink.

“Oh, that’s rich, Emily. Three minutes is all it’ll take for him to decide he doesn’t want crazy.”

The argument continues, steadily getting louder until the taxi exits and takes two turns. They’ve been in the car for twenty-two minutes, and Daniel reaches over and grabs her knee in the middle of saying, “And don’t get me started on last Thanksgiving. Who tries to microwave a turkey?”

Wrap up, the squeeze to her leg says. She nods and yells, “At least my mom can make a turkey! Yours just knows how to make weak men who can’t satisfy a woman!”

A flash of amusement in his eyes before he throws his hands in the air. “I’m done, Emily! I can’t stand being married to someone so crazy!”

“Then leave!”

“Oh, just jump out of a moving car?”

“Please, be my guest! I won’t stop you.”

“Fine. You know what? Fine. Sir.” Daniel leans forward between the seats, and the driver, who has steadily looked more and more uncomfortable, flinches away from him. “Please pull over. I can’t stand being in the car with someone so insane one minute longer.”

“Sorry, we aren’t at your destination yet,” the driver says, glancing between Daniel and the road.

“I don’t care! Stop the car and let him out,” Lynell shouts.

“Please, for the love of the Registration, stop this car before I lose it!” Daniel yells. The driver jumps, and Lynell feels bad, even though this was their only choice.

“I don’t think I can just stop here,” the driver says, though the car starts to slow down.

“He needs to get out now . . . or he may get violent,” Lynell says, hating every syllable as it leaves her mouth. “Please, just stop the car.”

He does, and Daniel huffs and says “Have a good life,” before climbing out of the car. He starts walking away and Lynell pauses, pivoting back to the driver.

“Are you okay?” he asks, turning in his seat.

Lynell frowns, wishing she could pull tears to the surface. “I . . .” she mutters. The driver’s face is full of concern. “I’m sorry, I can’t.” She gets out of the car, chasing after Daniel. The cabbie hollers after her, clearly angry about not being paid.