TWENTY-SIX
AlmaI chase after Leo, not even bothering to wave good-bye to his family, and follow him out the front door. I weave around the stone work on the ground, so my heel doesn’t get caught in one of the seams. The perfect ending to this failed dinner would be a trip to the emergency room.
“Leo,” I urge him to slow, but he doesn’t seem to hear me.
He jumps in the driver’s seat of his Porsche. I slide into the passenger side and buckle my seat belt as he speeds out of the drive, rocks and snow spraying out behind us.
As we approach the end of the Hardings’ property, the back of the car fishtails, and I press my hand to the dash to steady myself.
“Leo! Slow down!” I demand.
He’s still lost in his head.
“Slow down, or let me out right now!” I grab his arm to get his attention.
Hi
