“Well, I hope you keep your descriptions G-rated.”
“Of course,” I said, my lips now brushing his cheek.
“I’m going to miss you.”
“Same,” I told Daniel. “Not me, you. Ugh, being with you, I get all my words twisted.”
“That’s how my insides feel when I’m with you.”
His words had me blushing, so I tucked my face into his neck and breathed in. I wasn’t sure how long we stayed in that moment, but we did eventually have sushi, watch a movie, and stay up half the night in Daniel’s bedroom.
When we parted ways the following morning, our hands lingered on one another an extra beat as we broke from our embrace in the light of day, outside the Departures door. I wanted to tell Daniel to come with me. Fuck it all, and just get on the plane and be with me. Yet I couldn’t do it.
Fear was a bitch I kept tucked inside me for special occasions, and this was one of them apparently.
Wren
“Close to two weeks and nothing?” Sella asked me over the phone.
“That’s what I said. I mean, of course I thanked him for an amazing time when I got home, and he said the pleasure was all his…but then it’s been mostly quiet.” It was late Saturday, and Rourke and I were lying on the couch while I enjoyed a glass of wine. “I work, you know? I can’t text and call all day. He’s some kind of laissez-faire West Coast playboy…”
“Oh shut it, Wren. Seriously. We all know you work. You’re a freaking surgeon. But you must have a few minutes here or there to text or call Daniel? That’s plain nuts.”
Gulping the Cabernet only made it worse because it reminded me of him and the wine we’d shared. It might or might not have been the same brand. “He hasn’t texted or called much either. It’s been sporadic—”
Sella cleared her throat, interrupting me. “Girl, I know you’re not dumb so don’t pretend to be. He basically begged for an invite, and you didn’t give one.”
“I got nervous. And before you start in on me, you know this is all too much for me. I uncomplicate things, get rid of people who make me feel too much. I don’t jump in—”
“Oh, I do know all that, but after hearing what you did last night…”
I couldn’t help but smile to myself when the doorbell rang. Thinking it was my sushi, I told Sella, “Saved by the bell. My food is calling.”
“Call him,” she said before hanging up.
Setting my wine down and telling Rourke to behave, I made my way to the door. Yanking it open, I was shocked not to find my sushi but rather—
“Daniel,” I murmured his name. “What?”
He stepped over the threshold while speaking. “What am I doing here?”
He couldn’t answer his own question because Rourke came steamrolling through the foyer, barking and jumping in circles, so happy to see a man he’d met only once.
Traitor.
“Hey, tough guy.” Daniel bent over and greeted my dog.
I watched with bug eyes, remembering I was in a pair of Boston Celtics sweats, a gift from the team, and a ratty thermal T-shirt, my hair all curls and waves.
Standing, Daniel looked at me. “Hi,” he said.
“Ummm, hi,” I found myself responding, hand on my hip. “Were you in the neighborhood?” That was what I came up with.
“Not quite. But imagine my surprise last night when an old friend gave me a ring, saying that some sweet, smart, and how can I forget the last thing he said—‘a sassy number’—came infor an indoor lesson. Tossing my name around, saying she’d recently played with me.”
I thought back to my scandalous adventure the day before, when I’d finished work an hour early and took a private stroke clinic at the posh and exclusive Country Club in Brookline. “I had to show my credentials. I didn’t mean to throw you under the bus. Plus that guy didn’t even say he knew you. Personally, I mean. He said he’d heard of you and how lucky I was to have played with you.”
This had Daniel bent over laughing. “Babe”—that was what he called me right now as he pulled me into his arms; I was pretty sure I was being punked—“No hot-blooded man is going to admit to knowing a dude you’re going gaga over. Peter played at UCLA about fifteen years ago. He used to hang around with me…and it’s golf. We are a small community. He went on to win the US Open and he is at The Country Club like I’m at the Riviera, as a pro emeritus. I’m shocked he took your lesson.”
