“Women love seeing a man with kids. Especially this one, I bet.”
“But she’s already seen me with kids. I’ve painted with them at the hospital. This is not new information.”
Graham laughs. “Do you trust me or not?”
“Go on.”
“Okay,” he says, warning me not to interrupt again. “We need to tweak your image, much like we had to do with Barrett during the election. We need her to see more to you than just a baseball player that wants to fuck her senseless.”
“Yes. I. Fucking. Do.”
“Here’s what you do.” He stops himself and snorts, mumbling under his breath, “I can’t believe I’m even suggesting this.”
“Suggest it,” I demand.
“Use Huxley.”
“What?”
I’m sure I’m not hearing him right. Use my brother’s girlfriend’s kid? Is that even moral? I laugh out loud. Do I even care? No. No, I do not.
“Use Hux,” he repeats, obviously as amazed by his suggestion as I am. “Think about it. You can show her you’re a well-rounded guy, one that’s responsible and capable of solid relationships with those you care about. It’s different than the kids from the hospital because she could possibly think that’s an act. But if you have Huxley, that’s different. That’s a piece of who you are outside of anything she is. Get it?”
“Yeah. I get it,” I say, mulling this over.
“Barrett is on his way to Tennessee anyway, I think.”
The beauty of the plan glitters in front of me like a well-timed curveball. If you can just get a hold of it, you can hit a homerun. And this particular homerun might feel even better than hitting one out of the ballpark.
“Graham, you’re a genius.”
“Glad I could be of service. Just do me a favor, okay?”
“What’s that?” I mumble, already trying to figure out how to phrase this to Alison.
“Don’t tell Barrett this asinine idea was mine.”
I look at myself in the mirror and smile. “G, I gotta go.”
Danielle
SHOULDN’T YOU FEEL SHAME DOING the Walk of Shame? In the past I have had that feeling of “Don’t look at me” while I trekked the sidewalk back to my dorm or to my car. This morning, I waved at his stupid neighbors.
Where is my class? Where is my dignity? I fight the smile on my lips as I realize both are somewhere curled up in Lincoln’s sheets on the floor of his bedroom.
Showered, blow dried, and a little achy, I notice the spring in my step as I turn the corner towards the Smitten Kitten. Each step is accompanied by a throb between my legs. I wonder exactly which position caused it. Reverse cowgirl? My legs on his shoulders? On his benchpress? The corkscrew?
My body hums as I imagine that one: me resting on one hip and my forearm near the edge of his chaise lounge, thighs pressed together, him straddling me from behind.
I’m wet again.
Entering the Smitten Kitten, I see Pepper behind the counter. The place is dotted with patrons enjoying croissants and chicken salad sandwiches. “Hey!” she says as I approach. “You’re early.”
“I am, aren’t I?”
She frowns. “Why?”
I contemplate whether I can get away with lying to her. It’s quickly apparent I can’t.
“Fine,” I say, looking in my purse like there’s something I really, really need buried in the bottom. “I might have stayed the night at Lincoln’s.”
“You did not!”
“Hush,” I say, blushing. “This is one of those things you don’t scream, Pepper.”
One hand goes to her mouth as she surveys her diners. “Sorry,” she says in a more reasonable tone. “But what did you expect me to say? You stayed all night with Lincoln ‘Lick Me’ Landry.”
“Nice.”
“Did he?”
“Did he what?”
“Lick you.”
My jaw dropping, I half-laugh. “Either get me something to go or I’m out of here. Damn. Do you have any couth?”
“Do I ever?” she laughs.
“Let’s pretend you do today. I need a little time to process this.”
She leans on the counter. “Was it amazing? Just give me that. Throw me a scrap.”
I lean in too. “It was incredible.”
Her eyes light up as she fist-pumps the air. “Thank God because if he was mediocre in bed, every fantasy I’ve ever had was going to be ruined.” She disappears in the back and returns with a paper bag. “Here you go.”
I hand her my credit card and she swipes it before handing it back.
“Thanks,” I say, taking the bag.
“Where are you going now?”
“Home.”
“I just packed you breakfast for two.”
Peering in the bag, I see she’s not lying. There are two chocolate croissants, two Styrofoam containers, and a container of strawberries. Sighing, I look at her hopeful face. “I’m going home. Want to make me a bag for one?”
“Why are you going home, Danielle?”
“Because . . .”
“Because he had an appointment this morning?”
“Something like that.”
“You fucked and fled, didn’t you?”
“My God, Pepper.”
“You did! Damn it, Danielle.”
The bag raps as it’s plopped back on the counter. “Don’t ‘damn it, Danielle’ me. I’m trying to go with the flow but keep my head above water, all right? He’s my kryptonite. Attractive, cocky, confident, sweet, great in bed, and a fucking baseball player. He’s every sin I want to make wrapped up in one delectable body.”
“So, what’s the problem?”
“Ugh,” I huff. “Aren’t you listening to me? Don’t you know me?”
She appears unfazed by my outburst. “I do, actually. Which is why it makes me happier than a lark to see you with some spark right now. To see your eyes all lit up and some fire in your ass. You need to get rid of these crazy fears you have that everything will end in heartbreak.”
“It’s not crazy. It’s like . . .” I look at the ceiling for inspiration. “Imagine this: you grew up with a family that loved sugar. It was their weakness, okay?”
“I did.”
“Follow along,” I reprimand her. “Let’s say they were so addicted to it that they couldn’t stand for any of it to be in the house. They’d eat it all. All of it. Gone.”
“Okay . . .”
“So you move out. Start your own bakery. You’re safe because they aren’t there to eat your sugar, right? Then imagine you fall for some guy. He’s perfect . . . except he too is a sugar addict.”
She looks at me blankly.
“Don’t you see what I’m saying?” I ask.
“Yeah, but if he looks like Lincoln, I’d just handcuff him to the bed.”
Rolling my eyes, I grab the bag and turn towards the door.
“Hey,” she calls after me. “I want details. Don’t think you’re getting out of it that easy!”
The bell chimes as the front door closes behind me. I’m to my car in record speed. I need space. I need air. I need to think. When my phone buzzes right before I pull out of the parking lot, I know it’s Pepper and she’s not going to quit until I give her something to occupy her mind.