Page 47 of Life’s Too Short

Vanessa was quiet the whole way home. When we pulled into the parking garage and I turned off the engine, she sat there a moment, staring straight through the windshield.

“Look,” I said. “There was only one clinic visit while she was pregnant. And we don’t know if she took the pills they prescribed her.”

She shook her head. “I don’t understand how a doctor could give a pregnant woman a narcotic.”

“Liability. Doctors can’t prove or disprove pain. If they deny her pain control, they can be sued.”

She took a deep breath and then pivoted to face me in the seat. “Do you want to go to Duluth today?”

I wrinkled my forehead. “What?”

“Duluth. You know, two hours up north? We could go see the Christmas lights at Bentleyville and do the lake walk.”

I sucked air through my teeth. “I don’t know…”

“What?”

“Why don’t we just stay here? I can make us lunch.”

She smiled. “Oh, I see. You do want to hang out with me, but you don’t do spontaneity.”

“I can be spontaneous,” I said defensively.

She smirked. “Oh yeah? When’s the last time you did something that wasn’t thoroughly planned? And stuff inside your apartment building doesn’t count. That’s still your safe space.”

“Well, I saved a man from an avalanche today.”

She laughed. It was good to see the humor return to her face.

“Doesn’t count,” she said, still smiling. “You’re a fixer, so today’s emergency was totally in your wheelhouse. I’m talking about a genuine, spur-of-the-moment, seat-of-your-pants fun thing.”

I had nothing.

How did this woman have my card so thoroughly pulled?

When I didn’t answer, she cocked her head. “That’s what I thought. You thrive on predictability.” She narrowed her eyes. “I bet that’s why you like the job you have.”

“How do you mean?”

“You like being in control. And what better way to feel like the master of destiny than to beat all the odds with everything stacked against you? Make innocent men out of the guilty.”

I mulled this over. “I never thought of it that way.”

“You’re not that hard to figure out, Adrian Copeland. Even your hobbies are planned. You run races that you train for for months, you work, work, work—you are a creature of habit. A total control freak. Your dang junk drawer is organized.”

I arched an eyebrow. “You looked in my junk drawer?”

“I was looking for a spoon for my coffee. I was not prepared to see that. Your paper clips were all color coordinated, and you had a little caddy for your loose batteries—” She shuddered. “I can’t even talk about it. It really freaked me out.”

I snorted.

“I promise you, you will not implode if you do something you didn’t plan on today.” She grinned at me. “Come with me. It’ll be an adventure. And there’s this Italian restaurant on Lake Superior and I swear to God, it’s the best Italian food in Minnesota.”

Coming from her, this was high praise.

“I can’t remember the last time I went up north,” I said somewhat distantly. “Dad used to take me, but I haven’t been in ages.”

“You’re missing out. The North Shore is ridiculously gorgeous. So. Duluth. Are we going?”