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Copper Ridge.
    Their town was too small to have its own airport. Which meant they had to make an hour and a half drive over to Portland’s whenever they wanted to go anywhere.
    â€œWe have to rent a car,” she said, feeling extremely persecuted.
    â€œI’ll handle it,” he said.
    â€œI know you’re a West, Colton,” she said, following after him. “Success leaks from your pores, lightning from your fingertips and all that hyperbole. But I do have my own money.”
    â€œYes. I know you do. Don’t worry about it. Why don’t you hang out? Spend some time admiring the carpet, I hear it’s famous.”
    â€œNo, the carpet they ripped out was famous. This carpet isn’t famous.”
    He lifted a shoulder, his expression one of supreme disinterest. “I only caught part of the news story.”
    â€œThe carpet was the Grand Marshal in a parade,” she continued, because she knew about it and he didn’t. And it felt important to exert superior knowledge, even if it was about an old airport carpet and the general strangeness of the Portland area.
    His eyebrows shot upward. “We really need to get the hell out of Portland.”
    They were sorted into their rental car quickly and on the road only a half hour later. They headed out of the city, taking a winding two-lane road that led to the coast.
    â€œI haven’t been on a road trip in a while,” she said. “Well, not since we went to the airport yesterday.”
    â€œBut we had a driver,” he pointed out. “That isn’t the same.”
    â€œTrue. So,” she said, taking a deep breath, “what...are we going to do?”
    It occurred to her then, now that the earlier fog was wearing off, that she and Colton had never actually had a conversation when they were alone. They were usually in groups, or standing somewhere where they had friends nearby. Because they never willingly interacted. It was always circumstantial. Always something they had to partake in to be polite. Definitely not something either of them would ever do on purpose. And now they were trapped in a car together.
    Now they were trapped in a marriage together.
    Lydia’s heart started beating faster. Her palms were sweating. She was officially starting to panic.
    Then suddenly, a hysterical bubble of laughter exploded from her lips.
    â€œSomething funny?” he asked.
    â€œAll of this,” she said, the words coming out as half a screech. “We hate each other. And yet...we’re married.”
    â€œI still don’t think it’s very funny.”
    â€œIt’s hilarious,” she said. “Made even more hilarious by the fact that we made it impossible to fix this. Because we texted the whole world. And even then...if we were anyone else...it wouldn’t matter, would it?”
    â€œMaybe not.”
    The hysteria subsided, and suddenly she felt just...much less. Much less everything. Small and weak sitting next to Colton. Unsure of what to do with what had happened. Unsure of how to cope with the reality of the situation they were in.
    And she was never unsure. Not anymore. She’d found her place. Her people. And she knew what to do with that.
    She hated this. She had to get it together.
    She took a shaky breath. “The election is in four months,” she said. “I can’t have anything messing up my chances.”
    â€œOf course not,” he said, sounding resigned.
    â€œWhy did Natalie... I mean, maybe we talked about this last night, but I honestly don’t remember. Why did she leave?”
    â€œHell if I know,” he said, the words harsh. “She did nothing but obsess about this wedding for the past eight months. She was...I would say overly invested in the idea of marrying into a family like mine.”
    â€œYou mentioned...you mentioned something about your dad.”
    There was a slight pause, and she turned to look at him. His arms were tense,