Amy & Roger's Epic Detour

“Great,” Roger said, sticking his hands in his pockets, then taking them out and folding them awkwardly. It made me feel a lot better to see that he was nervous too.

I pulled my suitcase into the bathroom with me, not wanting to have to get ready in front of him. It was ridiculous, since after spending almost every waking minute together for as long as we had, Roger had seen me in every possible state, including first thing in the morning. But even though it didn’t make any sense, I wanted to look nice tonight. We had a inclusive dinner, after all. And it felt, to me, like our first date.

I took a long, hot bath, using the products I’d stolen from hotels across America. I blow-dried my hair afterward, being gentle with it. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but there didn’t seem to be quite as much falling out as there had been before. I dug through my suitcase, looking for something special to wear. Bronwyn had organized the suitcase by type of clothing—the T-shirts and tank tops were on top, and I’d mostly been sticking to them. But I was pretty sure I’d seen a dress folded along the bottom. I rummaged to the lowest layer, and there it was, all alone, taking up the length of the suitcase. I held it up, thankful one more time for Bronwyn and all she had given me. The dress was long and periwinkle blue with a sweetheart neckline. It was an incredibly soft material, and when I looked closer I saw that it had a slight sheen to it. Even though it was much, much too fancy for the hotel restaurant, it was exactly the right dress to wear tonight. As I pulled it out, I saw the green lingerie set that she’d insisted on giving me as well. I looked at the bra and underwear for a moment, then put them on.

I finished getting ready, putting on a little more makeup than usual, and even adding some mascara. Then I looked at my reflection one last time, took a breath, and stepped out into the bedroom.

Roger was sitting on the edge of the bed, and he stood up when he saw me. He had dressed up too, I saw. He was wearing khakis and a button-down shirt. “Hey,” I said. “You look nice.”

“You too,” he said, smiling at me.

I was about to brush this off, or tell him that it was Bronwyn’s dress, or make a joke. But I just smiled back and said, “Thank you.”

“Shall we?” he asked, holding out his hand to me. I took it, interlacing my fingers with his.

“Yep,” I said.

Behind closed doors …

—Charlie Rich

There was a fire in the fireplace of the Towson Inn lobby, and Roger and I were sitting on the couch in front of it. Dinner had been great, even though the food had only been okay and we had been the most dressed-up people in the restaurant. But that hadn’t mattered. We’d held hands under the table.

But as we sat there together, the pauses in our conversation stretched longer and longer, and I leaned my head into Roger’s chest for a moment. He rested his chin on top of my head, and I squeezed his hand once and stood up. I did so carefully, since there was much more fabric to this dress than I was used to, and I didn’t want to wreck the moment by falling down. He looked up at me, and I held out my hand to him. “Ready to go up?” I asked.

Roger took my hand in both of his, but stayed sitting. “Look,” he said, tracing a slow circle on the back of my hand. “I don’t want you to feel any pressure, like that we have to … I mean, I just want to make sure you know that I—”

“Roger,” I said. He stopped talking and looked up at me. “Ready to go up?” I asked again, smiling at him. My heart was pounding, and I was incredibly nervous. But in a good way. The kind of nervous you get before something really good happens.

He smiled and stood up, still holding on to my hand. “You sure?”

I nodded, and kissed him. He kissed me back, and we stayed like that for a moment. But then getting to the room, and quickly, seemed like a good idea to both of us. We stumbled into the elevator together, kissing until it reached our floor, then hurried out, laughing and trying to walk all at the same time. We got the room open after only three tries, and made it inside. He was trying to figure out my straps, and I had untucked his shirt from his pants and was already starting to undo his shirt buttons while we kissed—and I nearly tripped over my dress. And before going over to join him on the bed, I locked the door and drew the shades.

“Hey,” I murmured, several hours later. I stretched over and kissed him on his bare shoulder. “You up?”

“Nope,” he said, smiling without opening his eyes. He rolled onto his back and I rolled into him, resting my head on his chest. After I moment, I realized that I could feel his heartbeat. I closed my eyes, and he smoothed his hand over my hair. “Five Questions?” he asked. I shook my head against his chest. “One?” he amended.

“That counts, you know,” I said, propping myself up a little bit and turning to face him.

“You’re not playing fair,” he said.

“I learned from the best. Okay, fine,” I relented. “One.”

He traced the line of my chin, his expression growing serious. “Right now,” he said. “This minute. Are you happy?”

I stretched up to kiss him before nodding. “Yes,” I said. “Very much so.” I looked at him, at the serious expression still on his face. “Are you?”

He nodded and stretched out the arm I had been lying on. He rolled onto his side, and I did the same, facing him. We twined our feet together, as though we’d always been doing it. It happened just that easily. “I am,” he said. “A little too much, I think.”

I moved closer to him. I knew that at some point, we were going to have to talk about things. We were going to have to say good-bye. And even if Roger refused to call it that, that’s what it would be. But I didn’t want to think about that just yet. I closed my eyes and wrapped my hand around his.

You’ve Got a Friend in Pennsylvania.

—PA license plate slogan

“Are you sure?” Roger asked me, from the passenger seat.

I adjusted the rearview mirror and made sure I was close enough to the pedals. I let out a breath and caught my smile reflected in my side mirror. “Yes,” I said. When we’d headed out of the Towson Inn that morning, I’d walked around to the driver’s side. I wanted to give it a try, at least. I wanted to see if I could do it.

“Feeling okay?” he asked.

“I think so,” I said, and placed my hands on the wheel, at ten and two. Roger reached over and squeezed the hand at two.