The silence in the car for the first several miles is at least as companionable as awkward. We’re both obviously a little embarrassed. Neither understands the other’s predicament, but the fact that we both feel caught out seems to make it easier to swallow.
“So, who goes first?” I finally say. I don’t really want it to be me, but we’ve just turned around to retrace five hundred miles worth of unnecessary steps. Some sort of explanation seems in order.
George looks at me, then away out his window with a little laugh. “It’s just…” He stops himself. Lets out a big sigh. Starts again. “You offered. I couldn’t say no. Or, well, I could have.” He turns, like maybe he’s gonna face me, but is gazing out the windshield when he says, “But I didn’t want to. I was so excited when I saw you in the Co
