“Shower.”
A devilish grin lights up her face. “Together?”
I return her smile. “Is there any other way?”
* * *
Louisa has askedAddison and me to eat dinner with her tonight. She’s trying out a new recipe and wants us to be the guinea pigs.
We arrive in the main house freshly showered, and of course, freshly sexed. I’m sure it’s obvious. We both look pleased and relaxed, a telltale combination.
Louisa is in the kitchen, putting together a salad. When I offer to help, she tells me to uncork the wine and asks Addison to set the table.
We all sit down, and Louisa looks excited but nervous as she sets the casserole dish in front of us. “Chicken tetrazzini,” she announces, removing the foil from the top.
“It looks good,” I say.
“And smells amazing,” Addison adds.
Louisa dishes out portions onto our plates and I take a bite.
Oh, no. Looks good, smells good, does not taste good.
Louisa spits her bite out into her napkin. “Oh, crap,” she groans, looking at us. “If you haven’t taken a bite I would refrain from doing so.”
“Too late,” Addison and I say at the same time. Addison spits hers into her napkin, but I manage to swallow.
“How much salt did you add, Grandma?”
“Too much, apparently.”
Addison laughs. “Why don’t we let Brady take us out for dinner?”
“Oh, phooey. Brady doesn’t want to take an old lady like me out to dinner.” She says it, but she still peeks at me hopefully.
I clutch a hand to my heart and say dramatically, “It would bring me great pleasure, Louisa.”
Louisa pushes back from the table. “Well, then, I’ll just go get my purse.”
Addison leans over to me after Louisa is gone. Strands of her hair tickle my shoulder, and the scent of my body wash comes off her skin. “Thank you for taking me to the waterfall.” She kisses the corner of my lips. “You are a person worth doing scary things for.”
I’d love to respond, but I can’t. I’m struck silent. My whole life I’ve been the pursuer. Of good grades, degrees, accolades, popularity, friends, and Lennon. And then Addison happens. Every day she comes to me willingly, mangled heart open, ready to love me and let me love her in return.
Tucking her hair behind her ear, I look into her ocean blue eyes. “Addison, I—”
“You kids ready?” Louisa calls, her voice reaching us a second before she does. She walks in with her purse hanging from a shoulder.
“Crap, did I walk in on something?” Her features rearrange into an apology.
“No,” I say, and at the same time Addison says, “Yes.”
I push away from the table and walk to the front door, holding it open. “Ladies, your chariot awaits.”
For dinner, I take them to a place with white tablecloths and hardback menus printed on heavy card stock. We’re not dressed for it, but the maître d’ begrudgingly agrees to allow it if we’ll sit at a table in the full-service lounge.
Louisa peers over her menu at me. “I’m feeling like a fancy woman, Brady.”
“You are, Louisa.”
