Page 71 of Kiss My Glass
DANNY
I’ve had quite the workout today, though the less said about the pickleball games the better. The last forty-five minutes was a non-stop sexual world championship bout, with the final score for that round: Frankie, two orgasms, and me, one, but worth the wait. We shower together but only because we’re running late, no time for hanky-panky. I pull on a change of clothes and we hop, still damp, into the Karmann Ghia and screech around to Nate and Shelby’s. Frankie dashes upstairs to change and I take a deep breath, set my expression to relaxed casual, and tote the groceries into the kitchen to be greeted by Nate and Shelby, Cam and Ava.
“Where’s ‘Big Dink Energy’?” says Ava.
“Dinked out,” I say, dumping the bag on the counter. “I lost all three games in record time.”
“And you’re admitting it?” says Ava.
I spread my hands. “What can I tell you? I accepted a total trouncing with grace and dignity. Frankie will back me up.”
“Well, well.” Ava doesn’t seem bothered at all. “Another name in the jar for me.”
“I can’t believe there are only three names in here so far,” says Nate, who’s gone to fetch said jar. “And that only two of them are Ava’s.”
“Early days,” says Ava as she drops her name in. “I predict a late run by Danny will take home the punishment prize.”
“Oh, you do?” I say.
She smirks at me. “You’re so easily provoked.”
I could defend myself, but that would prove she’s provoked me, damn her. Time to focus on cooking. Pasta, tomato, chili flakes, oil, a green salad that Frankie won’t touch, and French beans I intend to cook just right, so shewilleat them.
Just at that moment, Frankie enters the kitchen, looking fresh as a literal daisy in her yellow pants with a cropped white top. She says hello to the others and sidles up beside me, slips her arm around my waist. I drop a kiss on her hair.
“Beer, Frankie?” says Cam.
I sense Frankie’s reluctance to leave my side. But she gives my waist a last squeeze, and heads for the table.
“Sure,” she says to Cam. “Thanks.”
My back’s to the table, and I need to focus because soggy pasta is not good, so the chat comes to me in snippets. Cam is talking to Shelby about grapes, and the conversation turns to testing and other subjects beyond my ken. I catch a mention of the crush, but Frankie’s just reassuring Shelby that it’s all under control. And then, Shelby asks Cam about her mom’s arrival tomorrow. I tune in because I know how much this bothers Frankie, and I want to be there for her if she needs me.
“Picking her up at two,” Cam says. “Be back here around four, if traffic’s not too heavy. Don’t have to swing by her place. She’s got what she needs in her suitcase.”
“So she’s staying here? In the house? Until the birth?” I hear the edge in Frankie’s voice.
“We’ve got room.” Shelby sounds anxiously apologetic. “And it’s a long drive to Mom’s house from here. She can’t go back and forth every day.”
“Why does she need to be here every day?” says Frankie. “That’s why you invited me, isn’t it? Or is it that now Mom’s back, I’m of no more use?”
I leave off trimming beans and turn round. Frankie’s expression is full Angry Bird, and Shelby looks again on the verge of tears.
Nate steps in. “Frankie, we want you here, too. You and Danny, both. Please don’t make a thing about this.”
“Me?” Frankie’s hands are on the table, like she’s about to launch herself upward. “I’mthe one who risked losing my job to come here!I’mthe one who’s left her home and her friends! Why shouldn’tI make a ‘thing’ about it? Why is whatMomwants more important than whatIwant?”
Shit. I have to take pasta off the stove. In that moment, Frankie shoves back her chair and storms out. Ava flashes me a sympathetic glance, as I’m stuck here, dumping pasta in a colander. Nate looks gray and weary again, and Shelby, tearful. Even Cam looks on edge, and he usually looks like he’s off drinking margaritas in a beach in his mind.
Pasta’s drained. Fuck the sauce, it can wait. I start to walk out, to go check on Frankie, but Cam gets up and blocks my way.
“I’ll go,” he says. “Frankie and I have some talking to do.”
I’m torn. It should be me who comforts Frankie, who hears her out. Plus, I’m scared Cam will fuck it up, make it worse, and Frankie will leave for good. I can’t chase her all the way to San Diego. Can’t leave Nate in the lurch.
Cam reads my mind. “It’s okay. Frankie’s not a quitter.”
Being scared makes me angry, but it’s not fair to take it out on Cam. All of a sudden, I feel Ava’s hand on my arm. Her expression is affectionate and kind.
