He’s not making it easy, though. He’s been keyed up all morning. He had three espressos before we left the apartment, so his right knee has been bouncing against the gear shift since the GW Bridge.
I have a nasty feeling as to why that is, which is confirmed or at least reinforced when his phone buzzes again. It’s been going nuts the whole way. He’s got the Bluetooth synced to the car, but he hasn’t been answering through the speakers. Every time it goes off, he glances at the screen propped in the center console, swears under his breath, and lets it go to voicemail. Then thirty seconds later, he picks it up and types something fast and angry and sets it down again.
I haven’t asked. Asking is not in my job description today. My job description is to sit pretty, don’t fidget, don’t commen
