Everyone glances at Dominic, who does a half eye roll and reluctantly says, "That's what she said." He glances around. "Can we move on now?"
Grandma starts pointing out shelves and various features.
"What's wrong?" I ask Dom in a quiet voice, jostling him with my elbow. "You don't like dick jokes?"
"A good dick joke has a time and a place."
"And this?" I circle a lone finger in the air.
He frowns disapprovingly. "Neither."
"Interesting. Who knew you had strict parameters for jokes about schlongs? I didn't. It wasn't on your All About Me."
Dom bites the inside of his lower lip. I've come to learn this means he is holding back a laugh. "Weird," he says, "Isn't that considered basic information about a person?"
Now I'm the one trying to hold it together. "I thought so."
Is this...flirting? It might be. In fact, it's feeling a little like the first time we met. Easy. Playful. Enjoyable.
Wow. Ok. I need to be careful. Dom is dangerous.
Dangerous Dom. My mnemonic device.
"What's going on in that head of yours? You're smiling at something." Dom traces a fingertip against my head, around my ear. A shiver rolls through me.
Dangerous Dom.
I have to be careful. We're only keeping this up for a few more weeks. He'll return to New York City, a recently annulled marriage tucked into his memories. We'll be a cautionary tale. The punchline of a joke.
I clear my throat and turn my head away from his touch. His hand drops to his side, all traces of flirtatiousness disappearing from his face.
A terse breath of air streams from his nose. "You know, Menace, with you it's always two steps forward, and one step back."
I should step away, pretend I didn't hear him. It's impossible, though. There's something in me, mulish and masochistic. If I can't have the last word, I at least need to say one more thing.
I look up at him, at the hard angle of his jawline. Those blue eyes that look just a little bit defeated. I say, "Even at that pace, you're still making progress."
Before he can respond, I turn away, allowing Kerrigan to pull me into heroohsandahhsover the hidden compartments in the kitchen.
"This expandable pantry," she says, pulling out a vertical drawer. It bumps my mom's backside, and she takes a step away. "Sorry, Mom. Check out this cutting board," Kerrigan practically squeals, extending a board from below the counter. "The motor home is basically a treasure hunt."
Kerrigan is enjoying this more than any other member of my family, but everybody is making an effort. Duke is poking through the bedroom at the back, remarking how much space there is. My dad has located a cabinet stocked with games, and he's already pulled out three and placed them on the dinette. Rainbow stands alone next to the door, hands clasped and hanging loosely in front of her.
In the middle of it all, stands my grandma. And she is beaming. There is nothing Savage Grandma loves more than the successful execution of an idea.
"Ok, everyone, listen up," Grandma says. She waits as Duke filters in from the bedroom, and then looks at Rainbow. Rainbow bends, rummaging through a ditzy-flower printed oversized tote at her feet. She comes away with a shiny white three-ring binder.
Grandma takes it from her outstretched hands. She holds it aloft, showing it off like a line judge in a tennis match.
Slipped into the clear plastic sleeve on the front of the binder is a piece of paper, a full sentence printed in bold, black font.
We're going to have fun, DAMMIT.
"This is our trip guide," Grandma says. "Travel schedule, destination information, booking confirmations, everything. You have a question about this trip? Look in here. If you ask me a question that can be answered by looking in here, I'm going to tell you to quit being an idiot and look in the binder. And"—Grandma glances at me and Dom—"I had a separate one made for you since you won't be traveling with us at first."
Rainbow, ready like an assistant and not a death doula, hands over an identical binder.
"Thanks," I murmur. I open it an inch, but Grandma snaps it shut.
