“Are you sober enough to talk?”
“Shit!” Dani screams. Water splashes over the tub.
I walk to the towels piled by the tub.
“Don’t!” she shrieks, one hand covering her chest, the other outstretched toward the towels.
“Right. My apologies.” I step back and turn around. Stare at the plant by the window. “I’ve come to offer you a deal.”
I turn back around. She’s scrunched down in the tub, the water up to her neck. I keep my eyes on her face and hold up the checkbook.
“I’m going to write you a check for five million dollars, then I will have a car or plane take you wherever you want to go. The only stipulation is that you make a post on Instagram about how you broke up with me because my mom was mean to you.”
I thought a lot about it in the car ride over. That’s the best way to both get Dani out of my life and create the perfect excuse for why I am no longer bringing her to family events.
“I have a post composed—I can email it to you if you’d like. I think the image should be like a plant or a picture of a stack of books or coffee. Something neutral. I think it’s called sad-girl aesthetics?”
Dani stares at me, sinks farther down in the sweet-smelling foam, and blows a breath out of her nose. The water burbles softly.
“No.”
I blink at her. “Excuse me?”
“No deal.”
“I’ll double it. Triple it.” Desperation is creeping into my voice.
“Nope.”
“And I’ll throw in a condo. I just need you out of my life, Dani. I made a horrible mistake. I never should have kidnapped you, okay? I’m sorry, okay? That’s what women want, right? An apology?” I snarl. “I’m sorry I kidnapped you. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I threatened your dog. I didn’t mean it. Now can you please accept the money? Twenty million and a house—that’s a pretty good fucking deal.”
“No deal. Hand me that wine?”
“If I’d had the foresight to kidnap a down-on-her-luck baker or something, she’d have already been gone with the check.” I hand her the bottle. “So what do you want? Is this a power-struggle thing? Or do you just want to watch me hauled off by the police?”
“I want you.”
My eyes narrow at her. “You want me to have sex with you?”
“Ew, no. Gross.”
“Then what?”
“I need a boyfriend.”
“You need a—”
She’s messing with me.
I look up at the ceiling then back down. Her face is serious.
“My brother and my best friend are getting married, and I need a date. You’re it.” She tops up her wine.
“We’re not dating.”
“Really? Because I met your parents.”
“That was a mistake—a horrible mistake on my part. We’re not dating. We’re not in love. We’re not… Can you please just take the money, Dani?”
