“Used to be, you could trust a man you picked up in an alleyway.” Gran dusts off her hands. “Whatever. They needed to be gone before your mom got back, anyway. She’s menopausal.”
Piper flips through the photos. “They do look better. Send him this one.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea to test Graham.”
“We’re just revving the engine.”
“He warned me not to,” I whisper.
“He can’t hear you through the phone.” Piper pokes me. “Just send the photo.”
“Maybe I should just take them to him. In person.”
“No. You need to breadcrumb him.”
“Didn’t Hansel and Gretel get eaten by a witch when they tried breadcrumbs?”
Piper glares at me.
“You’re just trying to find excuses to flunk this relationship. I’m sending the photo.”
“‘Made these for Kraig, do you want some?’” she says as she types.
“Nooo!”
“Sent.”
“Crap.”
We sit there and stare at it. Waiting. Waiting...
“Why isn’t he responding?”
It’s beentwenty-four hours and still no response from Graham.
Not during dinner, when my mom launched a Cold War-level interrogation on what happened at the party.“And you drank how much, Dani?”
Not when I was trying to get ten minutes alone in the shower.
Not when I’m lying here in the dark on the dining room rug under a pile of blankets, mindlessly scrolling Instagram.
I need to be getting caught up on emails, need to be mentally prepping for another stressful, dazed day at work. But all I can think about is Graham.
Does he really not want me? Why isn’t he responding? Why would you kidnap someone and then completely lose interest in her? Why would you go off on her about making your stepbrother cookies then just ghost her when she sends you a photo of said cookies?
I’m antsy and anxious as I sit at my desk at Svensson Investment the next day and try to work on my financial models, nervously eat the snacks I have at my desk and worrying about the V-card that I may never lose.
When night rolls around and Kraig shows up for his shift, I wonder if maybe he is the best I’m going to do.Maybe Piper’s right, and I need to man up and get it over with, I wonder as I stare at my computer and pretend I’m working.
I mean, Kraig’s not that bad-looking, right? I pull up his photo on the company website. He’s definitely squarely within my league. Sure, he’s a little bit balding, has a pot belly, and could use some beard oil, but your first time isn’t supposed to be spectacular.
“Hi, Dani.”
“Oh! I just—” I slam my laptop closed and lean on my elbow on it. “Hi, Kraig. Did you recover from the weekend?”
“Barely, after those margaritas you made. Don’t think I’ve ever had a holiday margarita.”
“We just have leftover Christmas mix. Gotta use it up.” I clear my throat. “I made you some cookies. Sorry they look like—”
