Perfect
Let’s definitely talk in person
Malts on me
Interstitial
If they met after dark, they’d go to 89 Elm. It was easier to park inconspicuously there; two main roads paralleled each side of the house. They’d arrive at different times, slip in through the back porch. They couldn’t turn the lights on and risk illuminating their bodies, calling attention to the place, but this only heightened the moment. They’d set their phones on the floor, flashlights facing up—small fires on the ground. It felt fun and romantic, like they were camping. The light illuminated the ceiling, and after, lying together, chests heaving, they held their hands up to the light, casting shadows above as if they were kids again. They made a wolf, a rabbit, a clown. They laughed in unison. They pressed their palms together like a prayer, going silent.
They did not speak their wishes out loud.
One night, they made the mistake of falling asleep—which ended in panic. They’d woken up frantic, scrambling, desperately grabbing their phones.
From then on, no matter the time, they set multiple alarms.
There was always a limit. There was always an end.
16
The dress arrived just in time. Danika stood in the center of her sprawling closet to admire the garment. She’d ordered it months ago without an occasion in mind, knowing one would arise. Now, it had.
The piece was silky and stunning—a made-to-order Siriano gown described as golden green, like the color of a Fabergé kiwi. It absorbed light at all angles: its rouching up on one hip, its twist at the halter, its delicate plunging back. Danika had sent in her measurements, and it fit her perfectly. All night, she’d be fielding compliments. Admiration. The thought sent a tingle down her spine. She needed this. She touched the dress once more, the fabric falling through her fingers like cool water.
The event didn’t start for another two hours, and her hair and makeup girl wouldn’t arrive for another half hour, but it was time for a cocktail. She flicked off the closet lights and headed downstairs.
“So, should we pop this?” Danika said as she moved into the white marbled kitchen. Chat sat at the counter, elbows up, eating a sandwich. She moved to the fridge and pulled out the massive bottle of champagne that had arrived with the invitation to the Harrisons’restaurant opening. She held the bottle by the neck and placed it on the counter.
“That some capital-C?” Chat eyed the bottle.
“Exactly,” Danika said, proud he remembered what she’d taught him about sparkling wine: how only bottles from the Champagne region of France were real champagne.
The pitter-patter of rain grew above them, and Danika looked up at the skylights, hoping it would stop. She didn’t want any spots on her dress.
“Might as well pop it.” Bill walked into the room, holding a glass of bourbon.
“Well if you’re drinkingthat, then I won’t,” Danika said. “This won’t keep.”
“Oh, rope Chat in for a glass. I believe in the three of us.”
Danika studied Bill, noticing his fresh shave and good mood. He had even picked his suit for the night already; it seemed they were both eager for the event, which had come as a surprise. Mallory and Malcolm had delayed the opening of Alondra several times, citing issues with the chef and zoning and the deck revamp, and the invitation had caught everyone off guard. “Nothing like the element of surprise,” Bill had joked. The invitation had also included a comped room at the hotel for VIPs, to which Bill replied, “Why not? This is why we have Chat.”
“Okay, so can we ‘rope you in,’ Chat?” She reached for three glasses, glad the boys were already in bed.
“At your service. Seems like this is going to be a real party.” Chat reached for the invitation on the counter. He flipped over the heavy card stock. “What time are you leaving?”
Danika told him eight as she used both hands to pour the bottle.
“We’ll have to go back with you, Chat.” Bill leaned against the counter. “The food is supposed to be amazing. The rib eye especially.”
“Sounds good to me. And thank you,” he said as Danika handed him a glass. “I hope you have a good time. It’s a good way to end the week, right?”
Danika smiled at him, intimacy passing between them. Since their conversation after the Galleria, their dynamic had shifted for the better. Their connection was deeper. Now, she knew they were true partners and confidants.
While Danikawasa little embarrassed about the whole hug-kiss moment, she didn’t regret where it had brought them. She was also glad to know they would never cross that line. While it had truly never been her intention, it made her trust Chat all the more. Plus, she’d still gotten what she’d really wanted: confirmation she was beautiful—even to him.
In a strange way, she no longer felt weird flaunting herself in front of him. She knew nothing would come of it—nothing except the thrill of attention, a heightened sense of being alive. Even now, as she moved about the kitchen, she let her sweater fall open, revealing her black tank top and braless chest.
“Okay, I’ve gotta go shower, but I’ll check on Max after.” Chat rounded the counter toward Danika and put his plate in the dishwasher. “You gave him that Tylenol at five thirty, right?” Max had been fighting a summer cold.
