Page 158 of Crash Course
"Absolutely. Want to invite your mom?"
A burst of something warmed her. Cruz and Mom seemed to be a united front. Probably because they both hated her father.
"I’ll ask her, but she’ll say no. She likes her alone time and would enjoy the break."
Twenty minutes later, as expected, Mom bowed out of lunch, opting to go for a walk and grab something on her own. Fine with Cilla. She adored her mother, appreciated the help more than she could verbalize, but the hovering over the last two days had been maddening.
Plus, she wanted time with Cruz, who’d just promised her he’d never punch someone’s lights out again. Despite knowing he meant well, she couldn’t have that. Couldn’t live with the constant worry of when he’d pop off.
Time would tell, but down deep she believed him. Every instinct she possessed assured her they’d be okay. More than okay. She took comfort in that. In trusting herself and him. In grabbing his hand and curling her fingers into his as they stepped off the elevator at the garage level of her building.
Outside, street noise scraped against her ears, the concussion seeming to amplify every sound. Still, there was a normalcy to the engine noises and honking horns she suddenly appreciated a whole lot more.
"Got a surprise for you," he said.
She laughed and met his eye. "Well, I hope it’s a good one. I’m kinda filled up with bad ones."
"It’s good. At least I think it is."
They rounded the corner at the elevator bank and Cruz pointed straight ahead. Taking his cue, she looked in the direction he’d pointed.
The Stutz!
Still walking, she let out a tiny squeal. Silly as it might be, after the stress of the last week, excitement lit her up.
He must have fixed the leak. "You did it," she said.
"All better now. And, since I promised you a ride, here we are."
"Yay," she said, giving his hand a squeeze. "This car is so beautiful. I can’t wait."
They stopped at the passenger door and Cruz used the key to unlock it. Old cars. No key fob. That alone sent her system humming, thinking back on simpler times when technology hadn’t yet turned the world upside down.
He opened the car door and rested his hand over the window. "When you’re feeling better, I’ll let you drive."
"Oh, I’d love that."
"In fact," he said, "remember when you asked if you could buy it?"
As if she could forget? "I do."
He held up the key. "It’s yours."
Wait. What? The guy who’d told her just days ago he’d never sell it, had just told her she could have it.
"Uh," she said. "I don’t understand. You said you’d never sell it."
Flashing that classic Cruz smile, he tilted his head, keeping his gaze on her. "I’m not."
Her head must be seriously banged up because she didn’t understand. "You just said I could buy it."
"I’m giving it to you. I want you to have it."
Now her mouth dropped open, shock temporarily paralyzing the rest of her. Giving it to her? This had to be some sort of guilt-inflicted peace offering. Had to be. She couldn’t accept it.
No way.
"Absolutely not," she said. "I love that you want me to have it. It’s an amazing gesture." She set her hand over his arm and squeezed. "But this was your dad’s car."
