THE CAR RIDE
716 Words
Chapter 3
The valet didn’t have Lina’s car.
“Engine died, ma’am. We had it towed,” he said, holding an umbrella over both of them. “Should be at the shop by morning.”
“Of course it is,” Lina muttered.
Adrian was already pulling out his phone. “I can call a car.”
“No. Don’t.” Lina surprised herself. “I don’t want to sit in the back of an Uber in this jacket pretending I’m not a mess.”
Adrian lowered his phone. “You have another option?”
“My apartment’s a 15 minute walk. If the rain holds off.”
He glanced at the sky. The downpour had thinned to mist. The streets gleamed.
“Walk then,” he said.
So they did.
Side by side, no umbrellas. The city was quiet at this hour. Just the sound of water dripping off awnings and their shoes on wet pavement. Lina still had his jacket. He hadn’t asked for it back.
For the first few blocks, neither of them talked.
It wasn’t awkward. It was the kind of quiet that happens after something big, when words feel too small.
“You didn’t have to come up on that roof with me,” Lina said finally.
“I know.”
“Why did you?”
Adrian kicked a pebble. It skittered across the sidewalk. “Because you were looking for stars in a room full of people pretending the lights were enough.”
Lina stopped walking. “That’s annoyingly poetic for a tech guy.”
“I sold the company three years ago. I’m allowed to be poetic now.”
She laughed. “What do you do instead?”
“Nothing. On purpose.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Board meetings make me feel like I’m borrowing someone else’s life. So I stopped.”
“And tonight?”
“Family obligation.” He said it the same way she had earlier.
They started walking again.
“My sister would’ve liked you,” Lina said out of nowhere.
Adrian glanced over. “Yeah?”
“She hated charity galas. Said they were ‘performative grief with canapés.’” Lina smiled, but it hurt. “She would’ve dragged you outside in five minutes too.”
“You miss her.”
It wasn’t a question.
“Every day,” Lina said. “But today was the first day I didn’t feel like I was drowning in it.”
Adrian didn’t answer. He just adjusted his pace to match hers.
They turned onto her street. Brownstones with fire escapes and flower boxes. Her building was third from the corner, with a blue door and a busted light.
She stopped at the steps.
“Thank you,” she said. “For the jacket. For the roof. For not asking a hundred questions.”
“You’re welcome.” He paused. “Can I ask one?”
Lina nodded.
“Do you believe in breadcrumbs? Or was that just for the speech?”
Lina looked up. Clouds were breaking, just a little. One star, faint, peeking through.
“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “But I think I want to.”
Adrian followed her gaze. He saw it too.
“Maybe that counts,” he said.
They stood there for a second too long. The air between them felt charged, like the moment before lightning.
Lina took a step back. “I should go in. Before my board calls again.”
“Right.” Adrian nodded. “Goodnight, Lina.”
“Goodnight, Adrian.”
She turned and went up the steps. At the door, she looked back. He was still there on the sidewalk, hands in his pockets, watching her.
Not leaving yet.
Lina pushed the door open and slipped inside.
Upstairs, she dropped his jacket on a chair and pressed her forehead to the cool window.
Down below, Adrian was still standing there.
Then he turned and walked away, disappearing into the mist.
Lina exhaled.
Her phone buzzed. 12 missed calls.
She ignored them all.
For the first time in a long time, she didn’t go to bed thinking about what she’d lost.
She went to bed thinking about a roof, and rain, and a man who gave her his jacket.
- Writer
