“I feel perfect,” I reply. The only thing about me that aches is my heart. I’m numb to anything that isn’t Gracie right now.
The title scrolls across the screen and I happily sigh. “Is this not the best? Eating popcorn, being couch potatoes, watching our favorite movie? Even though you give me shit, I’ve missed our conversations.”
I’ve missedyou, I want to amend.I’ve been miserable without you. I’m so lonely, Gracie. Have you been lonely, too?
“Well, there’s always more where that came from.”
There’s no hope of me containing my soft smile at the thought of “always.” I keep rubbing her feet to give my hands something to do so they don’t travel higher and take a moment to really soak in the sight of her. God. She steals my breath.
Gracie watches the movie, and I watch her.
I order one more pack of butter through a grocery delivery app an hour into the movie.
The teen delivery driver looks at me with wide, surprised eyes when I intercept him at the door. Probably wondering what sick freak urgently needs butter at midnight. He definitely recognizes me, too. I can already picture tomorrow’s headlines… “DT And His Butter Kink!”
It’s worth it, though, because the little butter monster next to me is gobbling up her second bag, which is effectively extending our time together down here.
“This is better than I remember,” Gracie quips happily through a mouthful of popcorn.
I’m not sure if she’s talking about the movie, the popcorn, or spending time with me, but I’ll take it as a win.
“Plus, you’re definitely a better movie partner than Mae.”
I chuckle. “What makes you say that?”
“You know those people that ask way too many questions during the movie, even in a movie theater?”
I nod. “Yep, my mom toes the line there. I didn’t know Mae’s that kind of person.”
Wiping her butter-coated hands on a napkin, she says, “Oh yeah. It’s always,‘Who is playing the part of this orange fish? Is it Martin Short?’”
I bite my lower lip. “What is it with her and Martin Short?”
She giggles. “Legend has it that Mae saw him at Big Boy Restaurant once in the nineties. Ever since, any and all animated characters? Voiced by Martin Short. Doesn’t matter if it’s a five-year-old girl.‘It must be Martin Short!’”
We both dissolve into laughter. God, it’s been years since I’ve heard the sound of Gracie’s real laugh. I’ve missed the bell-like quality to it and how unrestrained she is when something is really funny. She breathes through her nose, going completely silent in between laughs, catching her breath. Her eyes light up, sparkling with easy, childlike joy. I stare at her with wonder and disbelief that we’re here again. Together.
After a few moments, we try to focus back on the movie, but I can tell Gracie’s mind is elsewhere. She’s biting the inside of her cheek and looking to the right of the screen. I’m about to ask her what’s wrong, but she speaks before I do.
“Listen, Danny. We should probably discuss why I’m here.”
My stomach drops. I want more time. More opportunities to show her how much I’ve changed over the last ten years. To show her that we belong together. “After the movie, Gracie. We can’t interrupt John McClane like that, it’s disrespectful. I’m in no rush.”
In actuality, two things are warring in my head: I desperately want to know why she’s here, and I desperately want her to stay. But I won’t risk her leaving to satisfy my own curiosity.
She looks torn as she pops another piece of popcorn in her mouth. “I guess itwouldbe pretty awful of us to not give the greatest action hero of all time his due.”
Gracie yawns as she sinks deeper into the cushions. As the popcorn in the bucket dwindles, so does our stamina. Her eyes droop lower and lower until she finally drifts asleep before the ending credits scroll. I pull a cozy, plush blanket up over her body, while keeping her legs on my lap. I tell myself I’ll head up as soon as the movie is finished.
Instead, I fall asleep next to Gracie.
Chapter 21
Danny
Seventeen Years Old
Gracie and I are watchingDie Hard, again, for the fifth time this year. She’s so beautiful in her short-sleeve pink shirt and matching sweatpants, curled up beside me on the sofa. A word is embroidered on the sweatpants across her ass in capital letters, and I’m trying very hard not to stare.
