My eyes flit to the sight of her hip beneath the slit of her nightgown before I catch myself. “Nothing. I was hoping we could talk.”
“Talk?” She clenches her nails into her palms, a telltale sign that she’s nervous, and takes a slight step back. “About what?”
I take her hands in mine to keep her from retreating any further, hoping like hell rubbing my thumbs against her palms calms her. “I could use a friend.”
I tell her how Bailey was upset with me for never telling her about the MS and Dani’s eyes widen before softening to glassy pools. “We’re gonna need some tequila.”
She guides me to her couch before disappearing into the kitchen and returning with a bottle of Promesa and two glasses. She runs back to the kitchen for two cans of ginger ale and passes me one.
“You think I need a chaser?” I joke.
She coughs around a laugh and holds up her hands. “It’s called being a good hostess. I was just giving options.”
“Mhm,” I say in disbelief. “When it comes to you, I don’t need a chaser.”
She crosses one leg over the other. “You mean when it comes to my tequila?”
“I mean what I said.”
Leaning forward, she holds her glass toward me. “Cheers to that.”
“Cheers to that.” I clink my glass against hers, getting lost in her eyes as I down the shot. That is damn good tequila. I’ve been a fan of her brand since she launched it, but it’s nice to actually share a glass with her now. “Who would’ve thought the woman who once gagged and cried over this stuff would go on to make the best tequila I’ve ever had.”
Her fingers trace the rim of her glass. It’s a risk, bringing up our past. The last thing I want is for her to shut down on me. I know we’re different people now, but our history shouldn’t be this unapproachable subject. I want to be with the woman she is now, but she was born from the woman she was then. She deserves acknowledgment.
Her resounding smile is all the payoff I need. “First of all, fuck you. I didn’t gag or cry.”
I tilt my head with pursed lips.
“Okay, fine. I did gag. Second of all, thank you. I’m glad you like it. So, tell me about Bailey.”
With that, I launch into the full story, explaining why I disappeared on her all those years ago and apologizing. I tell her why Bailey was so upset that Dani didn’t know, cringing as I remember the pained look on Bailey’s face. I let it all out, and to Dani’s credit she listens with rapt attention.
When I’m done, she finishes her drink, licking her lips as she sets her glass on the coffee table. “I, um, I don’t really know what to say to that.”
“It’s a lot to digest, I know. But I don’t wanna keep letting people down.”
She sighs, looking away from me before granting me another glance. “I get that. For what it’s worth, you didn’t let me down. I’ve long since forgiven your disappearing act and I hope you can forgive me for mine.”
It’s worth a lot. Since Dani and I have come together this last time, I feel like I’ve been fighting an uphill battle with her. Being able to stop and catch my breath is a nice feeling. I hold my hand out for hers. “Forgiven.”
She accepts, shaking it gently. “I think we’ve come a long way.”
“Oh, we’ve definitely made progress. I’ve gone from your friend’s husband’s friend to your friend. I’m ecstatic.”
She kicks her leg toward me, but I’m serious. When this all started weeks ago, I never thought we’d get to a place where we could even have a conversation without sinking into the quicksand of our insecurities.
“I’m happy too, I suppose. Are you and Bailey good now?”
“I think so.” Everything seemed fine when I left her place, at least.
She holds the bottle toward me, waiting for confirmation before pouring another glass. “Have you ever considered group therapy?”
My head reels back. I can’t say I was expecting that. “Group therapy? I haven’t, why?”
“I looked into it. They have support groups for people with loved ones who have autoimmune diseases. It might be good for you to go and talk about Bailey.”
I scoff. I’m not the one who lives with the disease, so why should I need to be consoled for it? “I don’t know about that.”
