N HOUR LATER, I WAS sitting in Nick’s rented Mustang, Coco and her bunny at my side, a map on my lap. We were heading east on Route 2. The plan was for Nick to take me to Bismarck, North Dakota. All the other airports between here and there had grounded their tiny fleets, thanks to some glitch in an air-traffic-control-software upgrade. Damn computers.

Glacier was behind us, the Rockies towering in the rearview mirror as clouds scudded among their peaks. Thanks, Teddy, I thought with a pang as we left the park, and I turned back to say goodbye. Someday, maybe, I’d come back. Sure. My future child and I would vacation here, and I’d show him/her the spot where Mommy was almost mauled by the giant grizzly bear. Or not. That might be upsetting to a child. Note to self: buy Dr. Spock ASAP. With a sigh, I turned to face forward and fondled Coco’s silky little ears.

Nick’s ’Stang was a convertible, of course. A man can’t have a suitable midlife crisis without his trophy car being a convertible or his trophy wife being a blonde. The wind ruffled Nick’s hair as if directed by the gods of GQ Magazine. Add to this the fact that he wore blue-tinted sunglasses, a black T-shirt and jeans and looked irritatingly gorgeous. Coco, who got quite squealy around Dennis, had thus far ignored Nick. Good doggy.

Nick glanced at me, making me realize I was staring at him. “So what happened to Dennis?” he asked.

“He had an earlier flight. We, uh…we couldn’t get seats on the same plane.”

“Really.” His tone suggested he knew something different.

“Mmm-hmm.” Abruptly, I shifted my attention to the map. “So, okay, the interstate is about—”

“We’re not going to.” He didn’t look at me.

“But—”

“I know.”

“Nick, that means—”

“Yup.”

“Seriously, Nick? You do realize that not taking the interstate will add hours and hours to our lovely sojourn together, don’t you?”

“Yes, Harper. I’m aware. But this is my trip. You’re merely baggage, emotionally and cargowise.”

“Ha, ha.”

He deigned to look at me. “It’ll take about thirteen hours, all told.”

I glanced at my watch. “Okay, it’s one now, so if we take turns driving and drive all night, we’ll—”

“We’re stopping for the night.”

I gritted my teeth. “Great! Then we can enjoy each other’s company that much longer.” I smiled sweetly at him, which he ignored. Fine. So we’d stop at some hotel. I’d be in Bismarck…let’s see…I could be there tomorrow by ten, assuming we drove till nine tonight and were on the road by seven tomorrow morning. Not bad. Survivable.

But still. Stuck in the car with Nick. The hum of electricity was quite uncomfortable.

“So. A road trip, huh?” I asked.

“Yep.”

“Quite the midlife crisis you’re having, Nicky.”

“I’m thirty-six,” he said.

“Almost thirty-seven,” I couldn’t help saying.

“And it’s been a lifelong dream,” he said, finally looking at me. “As you well know.”

I sure did. Pulling Coco onto my lap, I turned my attention out the window. U.S. Route 2 was no more than a two-way road, though it was a corridor through the entire Northwest. We’d left the mountains surprisingly fast, and around us were only the Great Plains—fields of browning grass as far as the eye could see, and above us, the endless blue sky, streaked with thin white clouds. The air was cool, the sun relentless, and I was glad to have slathered on the fifty-factor sunscreen, as I burned easily. Towns with sweet names and tiny populations were listed on the map—Cut Bank, Beaver Creek, Wolf Point.

Nick had been quiet since offering me the ride. I was rather sure he regretted it now. For someone who’d blurted that he’d never stopped loving me, kissed me into the middle of next week and was now chauffeuring me to the next state, he seemed a bit…constipated. Perhaps therein lay the problem.

“So, Nick, do you want to talk about what happened this weekend?” I offered, turning to look at him. Strands of hair had escaped my ponytail, and the wind whipped them into my eyes.

Nick glanced at me. “No.” Then he reached into the backseat, groped around for a second and pulled out a faded Yankees cap. “Here,” he said.

I took the extended offering. “Won’t I turn into a pillar of salt if I wear this? Being from Red Sox Nation and all?”

He gave me a lightning smile, and my heart answered with a quick trill. “Give it a try and let’s see,” he said, turning his eyes back to the road.

I put on the hat. Not only did my hair stop whipping around, my face was shaded, too. “Thanks,” I said. He nodded. “Okay, well, if you’re not going to talk about things, I will,” I added.

Nick closed his eyes briefly.

“Here’s the thing, Nick. Um, that thing you said when we thought the bear would eat us…pretend I didn’t hear. Just a little blast of ubersentimentality, heat of the moment, death imminent and all that.”

He sighed. “No, Harper. It was the truth.”

Well, crotch. “You still…love me.”

“Yes.”

My ability to remain speechless lasted roughly three seconds. “And you also said you hated me, too.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t think you meant that. I don’t hate you.”

“I can’t possibly state my relief.” He took a swig of water.

“And as far as the kiss…well. We were both feeling very nostalgic. Let’s just give each other a free pass on that, okay?”

“Are you going to keep talking about this, Harper? Because I can let you out any place along here.” He gave me a look, his expression veiled.

“Okay, fine. Sorry.” I looked straight ahead. The road stretched to the horizon, and the fields beside us seemed endless. Not a heck of a lot of scenery, apparently. I glanced at the dashboard. Super. We were doing forty. The speed limit was seventy-five.

Being a native New Yorker, Nick had always relied on public transportation. He got his license only his senior year of college, something I’d often teased him about when we were together. Back then, on the rare occasions when he did get behind the wheel, he was your basic novice…hands at ten and two, eyes fixed on the road, puttering along at the speed of a limping snail. I could see things hadn’t changed.

“Want me to drive?” I offered.

“Nope.”

“The speed limit’s a wee bit higher than you’re going.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“This car is wasted on you.”

“Shut up, Harper.” He reached forward and turned on the radio. Country music, expected here in the land of cowboys. The singer’s woman had left him for another man. Not exactly groundbreaking material.

“I brought my iPod,” I informed my driver.

“I brought mine too,” he said. “But let’s listen to the local station and drink in the scenery, shall we, dearest ex-wife?”

“Oh, of course. So how’s life been, Nicky-bear?”

“Very good, thanks.”

“You’re a successful architect?”

“Yes.”

“What type of buildings do you design?” I couldn’t seem to stop the interrogation, but crotch. We were stuck in the car together. What else were we supposed to do? Relive our happy times?

“We make corporate buildings, mostly.”

“Skyscrapers?”

“Not so much. The biggest building we’ve done is eight stories. We’ve done some boutique hotels, two museum wings. But someday, a skyscraper. The firm is still relatively new.”

“Do you ever do houses?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Once in a great while. The real prestige comes from the bigger stuff.”

And prestige was what Nick had always wanted. Maybe to show his father that he was somebody, maybe because he just wanted to be the best. We hadn’t been together long enough for me to find out.

“Good for you,” I said.

“And I’m sure you’re a big success as well,” he said, an edge to his voice. “So many divorces, so little time.”

“Speaking of,” I said, suppressing a surge of irritation. Flipping open my phone, I was happy to see I had a signal. I hit Tommy’s number. He picked up on the first ring.

“Tommy, how are you?” I asked.

“Oh, Harper. Hi. Um…not that good. I’m really sad.” He certainly sounded sad. Sadder even than the current singer, whose dog had just been run over by the wayward wife as she stole his John Deere. Was there no Carrie Underwood out here? No Lady Antebellum?

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“I just can’t stop thinking about Meggie. How happy we were. How do things get so off track, Harper? She loved me once.”

Which means absolutely zilch, I thought, glancing at Nick. “Well, I’m not sure.”

“I just keep thinking there’s something I could do to get our old life back. I don’t want a divorce. Christ, it’s such a…failure.”

“I don’t think so, buddy. Sometimes, divorce is just the act that will rectify a mistake.” Nick snorted. I ignored him. Sort of. “After all, marriage means different things to different people. You didn’t go off shtupping the FedEx man, did you? No.” I gave Nick a rather smug look. See? This divorce is a good thing. “You, Tom, wanted something different. Fidelity. Friendship. Love. You wanted to spend time with your spouse.” Another pointed look at my ex. “You put the marriage first, and Meggie clearly didn’t. Am I right?”

“I guess,” Tommy admitted.

“Right. And as much as I’d like to console you and tell you things will all work out and you’ll live happily ever after, I wouldn’t be a good friend if I did. If she doesn’t want counseling, and she won’t take your phone calls, and she’s sleeping with another man…I’d say she wants out. I’m really sorry, Tommy. It’s going to take some time for your heart to catch on to what your head already knows.”

Nick rolled his eyes. Coco sneezed, then rested her head on my knee.

I spent a couple of more minutes murmuring sympathetically to my heartbroken paralegal before losing signal. Sighing, I closed my phone.

“Was that fun for you?” Nick asked. I noted he was gripping the steering wheel rather tightly, though we still hadn’t broken the forty-three-mile-an-hour barrier.

“No, Nick. Not at all. Tommy’s my friend, and I don’t like seeing him miserable.” He didn’t answer. “Why? What advice would you give to a guy whose brand-new wife was sleeping with someone else?”

As soon as the words left my mouth, my face grew hot, and my stomach lurched. Nick didn’t say a word. Didn’t turn his head, either. A new song was playing on the radio, something about dead soldiers, in case the mood wasn’t bad enough.

Coco whined, then head-butted my hand. “Um, Nick, Coco needs a rest stop.”

He took his foot off the gas, clicked on the turn signal (so quaint…we never bothered with that in Massachusetts) and slowly, slowly pulled onto the shoulder, as if we were in heavy traffic on Storrow Drive, rather than out in the wilderness with only a very occasional truck for company. When the car stopped, I clipped the leash to Coco’s collar and started to get out, then hesitated.

“I never cheated on you, Nick,” I said abruptly, and to my surprise, a lump came to my throat.

He took off his sunglasses and rubbed his forehead, then looked at me. “No, I guess not.” For a brief second, something flashed in my chest. He believed me? Then he added, “Not technically, anyway.”

My jaw clenched. “Not technically, not in any way.”

“That’s debatable.”

“Okay. Would love to discuss, can’t. My dog has to pee.” I got out of the car and set Coco down.

It didn’t serve to be mad at Nick. He wasn’t a forgiving person…well, not where I was concerned. I’d screwed up, sure. But so had he. I’d admitted my wrongdoing. He never would. Hence our divorce. All facts, all in the past. Still, I guessed my blood pressure was in the DefCon Four range at the moment.

Damn it. Accepting Nick’s offer of a ride was a huge mistake. I’d be better off fighting grizzlies and shivering in a tent. I walked Coco down the road a bit, as she liked a little privacy, being a girl and all. There was nothing out here, not as far as the eye could see. The Rockies of Glacier had melted into the western horizon. No town was in sight, no buildings, no other vehicles. Just Coco, Nick and me.

I looked back at my ex, and my heart softened unexpectedly. He’d given my sister a job when she needed one, stood beside his dubiously employed brother, probably supported Christopher’s efforts at inventing, made sure his neglectful father was near him. And here he was on his much-anticipated road trip, his irritating ex-wife, whom he loved and hated, as a passenger.

At the moment, he was leaning against the car, studying the map as the wind ruffled his hair. I’d always loved his hair. And his hands. Also, his neck. His neck was a thing of great beauty, and I loved it when we lay in bed, postnooky, cuddling, my face against that warm, sweet place—

Okay! Enough of that. I walked back to the car, Coco trotting briskly along beside me. “Where do you think we’ll stop for the night?” I asked. It was already midafternoon.

“I’m not sure,” Nick said. “I want to see the world’s largest penguin statue.”

“Very funny.”

“I’m not kidding,” he said, grinning. “See? Right here.”

I leaned in closer. That was a mistake. There was his neck, smooth and tanned and practically edible. Feeling a bit like a vampire resisting the urge, I cleared my throat. “I love maps,” I said a bit too loudly.

“Me, too,” he said, glancing at me. “All those places you’ve never been.”

“All that mystery,” I said. “The GPS is great, but it’s not the same.”

“My thoughts exactly.” His mouth pulled up, my girl parts coiled. I looked away, adjusted the Yankees cap.

“Did you ever do this before?” Nick asked quietly. “Drive across country?”

“No,” I said.

“Ironic, don’t you think?” He looked up from the map, his eyes steady.

“Very.” My heart knocked against my ribs.

He stared back a minute longer, then folded the map. “Okay. Off we go. Penguin statue, here we come.”