Or even Heath’s gaze.
Probably.
“I’ll wait outside,” he said. “Do whatever you need to do, and call me if you need a hand with the zipper again.”
I nodded, both miserable and embarrassed, but mostly embarrassed. My hands were shaking. Why were my hands shaking? After I relieved myself, I washed them, then called my knight in shining armour back again.
“Please?” I asked. “I’m only going to wear Lycra and Velcro from this day on. I swear.”
Heath laughed and zipped me up, then took my hand and ushered me out the door, right into the path of Uncle Dennis and Auntie Eileen. Terrific.
I stood there like a deer in headlights while Eileen’s eyes saucered.
“Edie was having trouble with her zipper,” Heath explained.
“This absolutely wasn’t what it looks like,” I added, which only made me sound even guiltier of doing something I shouldn’t have been doing, like romping half-naked with Heath in the downstairs bathroom.
“Anyway, nice to see you again, Dennis,” he said.
And then he got me the hell out of there.
Ten
Me
I can’t work out whether it’s salsa the food or salsa the dancing. If it’s the dancing, I apologise in advance.
Tonight, we were going to the opening of a friend’s wine bar. Cookie Salsa. Actually, it was Eisen’s friend, but since tonight was Thursday and Eis’s boys had school tomorrow, I’d been press-ganged into attending. Deep breaths, Edie. The therapist I’d given up seeing would have been proud of me for even attempting this. Three months ago, I wouldn’t have dared. I’d tried immersion therapy in the past, and while I could cope with the virtual reality scenarios, the real-life version left me a weeping mess. VR couldn’t replicate the smell. The heat of warm bodies pressing against you.
Hell, I was sweating already.
Heath
I can do the Macarena.
Me
Can you really?
Heath
No.
Me
At least there have to be cookies. I mean, cookie isn’t a type of dance, is it?
Heath
Just don’t ask a Hungarian for a cookie.
Me
I don’t think I know any Hungarians. Why?
Heath
It’s pronounced the same as koki. Small penis.