The Statistical Probability of Love at First Sight(26)

On the plane he’d told her about trips to South Africa and Argentina and India with his family, and Hadley had folded her arms as she listened, wishing she were on her way to somewhere like that. It wasn’t such a leap, from where she was sitting. There on the plane, it wasn’t so very hard to imagine they could be headed somewhere together.

“Which was your favorite?” she’d asked. “Of all the places you’ve been?”

He seemed to consider this for a moment before that one telltale dimple appeared on his face. “Connecticut.”

Hadley laughed. “I bet,” she said. “Who’d want to go to Buenos Aires when you could see New Haven?”

“What about you?”

“Alaska, probably. Or Hawaii.”

Oliver looked impressed. “Not bad. The two most far-flung states.”

“I’ve been to all but one, actually.”

“You’re kidding.”

Hadley shook her head. “Nope, we used to take a lot of family road trips when I was younger.”

“So you drove to Hawaii? How was that?”

She grinned. “We thought it made more sense to fly to that one, actually.”

“So which one have you missed?”

“North Dakota.”

“How come?”

She shrugged. “Just haven’t made it there yet, I guess.”

“I wonder how long it would take to drive there from Connecticut.”

Hadley laughed. “Can you even drive on the right side of the road?”

“Yes,” Oliver said, flashing her a look of mock anger. “I know it’s shocking to think that I might be able to operate a vehicle on the wrong side of the road, but I’m actually quite good. You’ll see when we take our big road trip to North Dakota one day.”

“I can’t wait,” Hadley said, reminding herself that it was only a joke. Still, the idea of the two of them crossing the country together, listening to music as the horizon rolled past, had been enough to make her smile.

“So what’s your favorite place outside of the States?” he asked. “I know it’s absurd to think there might be somewhere else in the world as wonderful as, say, New Jersey, but…”

“This is my first time overseas, actually.”

“Really?”

She nodded.

“Lot of pressure, then.”

“On what?”

“London.”

“My expectations aren’t particularly high.”

“Fair enough,” he said. “So if you could go anywhere else in the world, where would it be?”

Hadley thought about this for a moment. “Maybe Australia. Or Paris. How about you?”

Oliver had looked at her as if it were obvious, the faintest hint of a grin at the corners of his mouth.

“North Dakota,” he’d said.

Now Hadley presses her forehead against the window of the taxi and once again finds herself smiling at the thought of him. He’s like a song she can’t get out of her head. Hard as she tries, the melody of their meeting runs through her mind on an endless loop, each time as surprisingly sweet as the last, like a lullaby, like a hymn, and she doesn’t think she could ever get tired of hearing it.

She watches with bleary eyes as the world rushes past, and tries her best to stay awake. Her phone rings four times before she realizes it’s not the cabbie’s, and when she finally fishes it out of her bag and sees that it’s her dad, she hesitates for a moment before answering.

“I’m in a taxi,” she says by way of greeting, then cranes her neck to check the clock on the dashboard. Her stomach does a little somersault when she sees that it’s already 11:24.

Dad sighs, and Hadley imagines him in his tux, pacing the halls of the church. She wonders if he wishes she hadn’t come after all. There are so many more important things for him to be worrying about today—flowers and programs and seating arrangements—that Hadley’s missed flight and the fact that she’s running late must seem more of a headache than anything else.

“Do you know if you’re close?” he asks, and she covers the mouthpiece and clears her throat loudly. The driver flinches, quite obviously annoyed at being interrupted.

“Excuse me, sir,” she says. “Do you know how far now?”

He puffs out his cheeks, then heaves a sigh. “Twenty minutes,” he says. “Thirty. Eh, twenty-five. Thirty, maybe. Thirty.”

Hadley frowns and returns the phone to her ear. “I think maybe a half hour.”

“Damn it,” Dad says. “Charlotte’s gonna have a stroke.”

“You can start without me.”

“It’s a wedding, Hadley,” he says. “It’s not like skipping the previews at the cinema.”

Hadley bites her lip to keep from saying “movie theater.”

“Look,” Dad says, “tell the driver you’ll give him an extra twenty quid if he can get you here in twenty minutes. I’ll talk to the minister and see if we can stall for a bit, okay?”

“Okay,” she says, looking doubtfully at the driver.

“And don’t worry—Charlotte’s friends are on standby,” Dad says, and Hadley can once again hear the humor in his voice, that trace of laughter behind his words that she remembers from when she was little.