One Week - By Nikki Van De Car Page 0,35

one place to another. Much less make somebody “all a-quiver with my most delicate touch.”

There's a pounding on the door, and I jump, dropping Lady Delia. I open it to find Jess standing outside with a panicked look on his face.

“Please be my girlfriend,” he begs.

What?

“My fake girlfriend,” he continues hurriedly. “Just for a little while? I can't take it anymore.”

“Can't take what anymore?” I ask as I hold the door open for him.

“Tessa!” he exclaims. “She's got this insane North by Northwest fantasy where she absolutely needs to hook up with somebody on a train, and she's trolling up and down every car and has pegged me as her Cary Grant.”

North by Northwest? That's my fantasy. Bitch. “So?” I say calmly. “Hook up on a train. She's cute. What's the problem? You're not using my roomette, though.”

“The problem is that Cary Grant almost gets killed on Abe Lincoln's nose and I don't really feel up to that right now.”

I try not to laugh, but I can't help myself. “Well, you could go out for a walk at the next stop and see if you don't get hit by a plane. If nothing happens, it's probably safe.”

Jess shakes his head. “No way. I'm not taking any chances. I'm staying right here.” He plants himself firmly in his seat.

Wait. I just had a great idea. “How long are the stops, anyway? And where are we?”

Jess shrugs. “I don't know. I think we're in Nebraska.”

“Are we near Hastings?” I ask excitedly.

“How should I know?” He gives me a look. “You're not changing your mind, are you? You're still going to New York, right? You're not giving up and going to Hastings, instead? Because that would just be sad.”

“No, dumbass. Herbert and Martha are going to visit their niece's baby in Hastings.”

Jess looks completely confused. “Who?”

“The old couple we met in the dining car. Remember?” I start pacing around the roomette. Which mostly involves turning in place.

“Right. And what does this have to do with you, exactly?” Jess crosses his arms over his chest. He has a look on his face like he's expecting me to say something crazy and he has his response all ready in advance.

“So we should go with them! We should go visit the baby! I overheard the porter telling somebody we'd be refueling in Hastings, so we should have plenty of time.”

“And why do you have this sudden desire to go visit the baby of someone you've never met?”

To be honest, I don't know. All I know is that I'm glad Jess is here and not with Tessa, and I have all of this energy all of a sudden and I can't stand to be on this train for another second.

“It'll be fun!” I say. “Come on, let's just go find Herbert and Martha and ask them.”

“Ask them what? If we can horn in on their intimate family moment? You do realize there's no way they're going to say no, right? If you corner them like that, they have to say yes. They're from the Midwest.”

All the better. “Come on,” I say, and heave Jess up off the seat. “We probably won't be able to find them anyway. It's just something to do.”

It is, actually, harder to find them than I thought it would be. Part of the problem is that Jess keeps ducking behind rows of seats and peeking around corners to see if Tessa is lurking anywhere. Which, I'm not going to lie, I find really funny. He's probably only doing it for that reason, but it still makes me feel better.

So when we do finally find Herbert and Martha, my face is flushed from giggling, and Jess is dusting off the knees of his cords from when he crouched behind a bunch of suitcases stashed in a sort of closet at the rear of the car.

“Bee!” Martha exclaims. “What perfect timing! I was just saying to Herbert that we should really go find you, to see if you wanted to take a little break from your travels and come squeeze a baby.”

“And I explained to Martha that you probably have better things to do than go see a screaming infant you have no connection to at all,” Herbert says, nodding to us as he busies himself with gathering up their things.

“Not at all!” I say, beaming. “We'd love to come!” I can just barely restrain myself from sticking my tongue out at Jess and his skepticism about whether or not we'd be welcome. Martha strikes