Page 39 of Kiss My Glass
He smiles. “Nope, not yet.”
I smile back. “There you go.”
“Though it’s possibly because I refuse to look down at what’s circling in the waters below me,” he says. “And I’m not too sure Dad approves of that as an approach.”
“MyDad would have,” I tell him. “He lived his whole life pretending financial crisis wasn’t sawing a hole under his feet.”
I drink some water. It’s cold and refreshing. “Then again, that kind of confidence is catching. Flora Valley Wines wouldn’t be here today if Dad hadn’t been so relentlessly optimistic.”
“You must miss him a lot,” Danny says gently. “He died pretty young.”
My first instinct is to say I don’t think about it anymore. That I did my grieving for Dad on my own, and in my own way, and then I put that grief aside and got on with my life. But that’s my defense response, my armor, and a big, fat lie. Plus, I’d be a hypocrite to ask Danny personal questions without being willing to answer his questions of me.
“I miss him every day,” I say. “And it’s bullshit what they say about grief. It doesn’t happen in stages. It happens randomly, unexpectedly, like you’re strolling along and someone lobs a grenade in your path. And I have not got to the acceptance stage, either. I’m stuck on sadness and anger?—”
I stop because I’m about to cry. I hate crying. I hate leaking stupid, weak tears.
Danny sets his water glass on the floor and shuffles closer but doesn’t reach out to hug me. He’s being cautious and fair enough; my whole body is rigid and I’m clutching my own glass in both hands, like it’s a weapon.
“Sorry, Frankie,” he says. “It was thoughtless of me to bring it up. Are you okay?”
“No,” I reply. “But that’s not your fault.”
“Do you want a hug?”
His earnestness makes me burst out laughing. Danny looks as if he doesn’t know whether to be offended or join me.
“We just intimately connected a whole bunch of body parts,” I explain. “It’s adorable that you’re asking permission to put your arms around me.”
Danny turns on the full-wattage smile. Pretty sure I can guess what’s coming. And who.
I was right. Relentless positivityiscatching. I’m suddenly once again in a good mood.
“Want to give the body parts another workout?” he asks. “You can call all the shots this time.”
I turn on my best single eyebrow arch. “Sure you’re ready for that?”
He lifts the sheets and shows me Lil Danny.He’sready,but Big Danny, I feel, is overly – no other word for it – cocky.
“All right then, let’s get this show on the road.” I set my water glass down and rub my hands together to warm them and give the impression I’m scheming. Which I am.
“First, you’ll need to be condomed-up.”
“Really?” Danny frowns. “No foreplay?”
“Not for you,” I reply. “You’re on the sidelines until I summon you.”
Danny eyes me warily. “Summon?”
My smile is my answer. Slowly, teasingly, I lower the covers until every inch of my bare skin is exposed. Danny’s got the condom packet in hand but freezes as I begin, gently and leisurely, to pleasure myself.
“Shit,” he mutters. “Could you wait a second until I get this on?”
“Don’t look?” I suggest, with a lazy smile.
“Impossible,” he says, and hastily rolls on the condom. “Made it. Just.”
There’s lube by the bed but I don’t need it. I close my eyes, and revel in the sensation, the delicious tension that’s building in my whole body.
