[ I listened to River by Bishop Briggs while writing this chapter. ]
Although Gael's house was close, there was a bit of traffic when they hit the highway at nearly eleven in the evening. He took Angela's hand from his lap and brought it to his lips, loving the way her delicate fingers fit in his hold.
A car that suddenly blindsided them caused him to step on the brakes abruptly, making him curse. He then placed her hand on her lap and focused on driving. Impatience took over him as he glared at the long line of cars ahead. Just when he was very much in a hurry, nature took its course and made him wait.
Angela couldn't stay still in her seat. She fiddled with the hem of her dress after he released her hand. When he asked her about crossing the line earlier, it was a no-brainer. Tonight was the night. She knew it. He knew it. And now she couldn't wait to get home with him—only this traffic was being such a tool.