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“Don’t freak out. It’s just a cover,” I say. If she doesn’t like even this tiny lie, she certainly isn’t going to be onboard with the other part of my plan.
I’m not even fully sure I’m on board with it.
It’s a good way to protect her, sure, but at what expense?
My heart. That’s the dang expense.
“I wasn’t freaking out,” she replies quickly. “I just…I don’t know. I should never have come to you for help. I hate the position I’m putting you in.”
“It’s a little late to go back now,” I bite out, unreasonably annoyed with her regret. As always with Nora, it’s too little, too late, and I’m left looking like the sappy schmuck who would do anything for a woman who doesn’t love him enough to marry him.
There’s silence on her end, and I start to feel my own sense of regret at my harsh response, but I’m too wounded or prideful or some mixture of the two to apologize. So instead I simply finalize the plans.
“I’ll go in as a delivery driver, then call you when I need you to pick me up, okay?”
“Jack, I should be the one to go in,” she starts to protest again, but I end the call. I won’t negotiate on this.
Because like it or not, I am a sappy schmuck who would do anything for her.
We use my car to stop at a Chick-fil-A. After another round of protestations Nora finally hands over the food, and I drive the remaining distance to Ian’s gated community, Nora trailing a short distance behind me. When I reach the entrance I roll down my window and press the buzzer.
“Name?” The guard at the gate doesn’t even look up from his crossword puzzle book as he addresses me through the intercom. He’s a big guy who barely seems to fit in the booth. His heavy accent, blond hair, blue eyes, and name tag reading Sven suggest he’s of Nordic descent.
“Uber Eats delivery,” I tell him, infusing my voice with a mixture of confidence and boredom. His eyes flick up, and I drum my fingers along the steering wheel, bobbing my head like I’m really into the music playing on my radio. Carefree. That’s the image I’m going for.
“You got a name for the order?” The guard asks, blinding me with the flashlight on his phone.
Shoot. I think fast.
“I just got a house number,” I tell him, blinking away the brightness. “Guy used the app for the order and put his address in the name spot.” I shake my head and let out a single laugh. “Happens all the time.”
“Yeah, okay. What’s the address then?”
The address. Right.
“Spyglass Drive,” I come up with, remembering the street name Nora gave me.
“And the house number?” Sven asks a bit impatiently. Of course I get the Mr. By-the-Book guard who takes his job seriously.
“Oh right,” I laugh like I’m an idiot for not already saying it, “2783,” I hedge, sending up a prayer that the house numbers travel by twos here, since Ian’s address is 2785.
“Oh yeah. The Hendersons,” he says. “They get a lot of takeout. Go on through.”
Finally a lucky break.
He opens the gate for me and I drive through. With a bolt of inspiration I turn on the screen on Ian’s dashboard, gratified when I see he’s got his home address saved. After multiple touches of the screen (the gloves I’m wearing to cover up my fingerprints making things difficult) the map starts directing me to his house. Would it have been helpful to think of doing this before I had to make a guess about another address in the neighborhood? Yes. But I drive an old SUV that doesn’t even have bluetooth capabilities, let alone a touchscreen on the dashboard.
Ian’s house is completely dark when I pull into the driveway. I debate whether or not to open the garage and put it inside, but ultimately decide to leave it in the driveway since I’m not sure how I’d close the garage door behind myself. Plus, his wife may be asleep inside, and I don't want the noise to wake her.
I take a glance around before getting out of the car and heading down the street, doing my best to appear casual. I take my phone out and call Nora.
“Car is back in Ian’s driveway,” I say by way of greeting.
“Okay, great. I’m driving around behind the tennis courts. Do you think you can climb the fence to get to me?”
“Sure,” I say with more confidence than I feel. Yeah, I workout, but that doesn’t mean I have the agility to free climb up a wrought-iron gate. Let’s just hope Nora won’t stop the car to watch me attempt to get over in one piece.
“Great. They’re on the south side of the sub. See you soon.”
