19. Dani
DANI
“I’m so nervous! I’m freaking out,” I tell Piper in the lobby of the Svensson Investment building. “This is why I don’t do this. This is why I don’t date. Because inevitably you have to spend holidays together, and you know I like my alone time.”
“Yeah, you were in the bathroom way too long this morning.”
“I was doomscrolling on my phone without my mom after me every five minutes.” I pick at dog hair on my sweater. “I’m almost ready to join a gym just to get some time away from her.”
“Wow, you’re really spiraling, huh?”
“What if this is my only moon shot at a real relationship? Shouldn’t I be taking it more seriously?”
“You’re not still worried you insulted his mom, are you? He’s the one who kidnapped you,” Piper says. “He can handle a couple of kidnapping jokes.”
“Shh!”
Kraig the security guard is walking in for his shift. He turns to stare at me.
“Hi! I made cookies and left them in the break room if you want any!” I wave.
He gives me a nod.
“At least you always have your work crush as a backup plan if things go south.” Piper smirks.
“Mom will not be happy if I downgrade from Graham to Kraig. He’s a security guard. I’m not judging, but she will.”
“And I’m judging your outfit. I thought you were changing your clothes?”
“Maybe it’s better to dress conservatively?” I look down.
I’m wearing an outfit my mom picked out. It’s all beige. Beige pants, an oversized beige sweater, a brown belt, brown shoes, a matching brown handbag. My hair has been pinned into a bun.
“It’s too late! I don’t have any other non-mom-approved clothes. Oh gosh, do you think they’re going to think I’m weird? I want to make a good impression.”
“Didn’t you already meet his family?” Piper reminds me.
“Yeah, but that was brunch for like ninety minutes. This is, like, spending the night in their house. What if they realize I’m a pathetic weirdo and think I’m not good enough for Graham?”
“He’s not good enough for you. He’d literally be in jail right now if you weren’t so insecure.” Piper sticks some of the errant strands of my hair back into the bun. “You’re spending a weekend with his parents, not going to prison.”
“Does it really look that bad?”
“It’s a cabin, right? So lots of natural wood. You’ll just blend in with the background. They won’t notice you at all.”
“Oh my gosh, I never should have listened to my mom.”
“Honestly, it’s really the fact that Lulu has a matching outfit that puts this over the edge.”
The dog in her brown doggie sweater whines.
The lobby doors open, and then there’s Graham in a charcoal suit striding across the expanse of marble toward me.
He hesitates like he’s not sure if he should hug me or kiss me.
“You better pretend like you two are dating—you’re in a public place,” Piper hisses.
I elbow my cousin.
Graham stares at me.
“Don’t worry, she didn’t murder an animal for that coat,” Piper jokes.
“Did you get that at Costco?”
“Ooh, don’t tell Aunt Linda that. She spent a lot of money on that outfit.”
Graham scowls and picks up my bags. “We’re going to be late.”
“I brought some dips and desserts and wine.” I pick up the oversized double brown bag and rush out after him.
He’s double-parked in front of Svensson Investment.
“You brought food?” He takes it from me then slams the trunk. “Why? We’ll have food there.”
“I can’t show up empty-handed. They’ll think I’m a gold digger after your money.”
“I wish you were a gold digger after my money, because then I wouldn’t have to be taking you to the cabin to begin with.”
“Aw.” I turn on his radio and press the scan button, trying to find something I like. There’s nothing but commercials on.
“Can you just plug in your phone?” He breathes out in annoyance as I rapidly press buttons.
“I like listening to the radio. I was born like twenty years too late. One day, when I meet the man of my dreams—or shoot, even get a big Christmas bonus—I’m buying a house big enough to have a wall with books and records.”
“How original. I’m sure there’s no other twenty-something girl in New York City who hasn’t had that same exact dream. Are you going to open up a cupcake shop too? Start an award-winning blog?”
Lulu clambers into Graham’s lap, leaving little bits of her fuzzy sweater all over his pants.
“Lulu, come over here. He’s trying to drive.” I pat my lap. “I can drive if you want. I love a road trip.”
“How much coffee have you had?” he demands. “This is a three-hour trip, and I’m not dealing with you like this.”
“I actually haven’t had that much. I’m just really nervous about making a good impression,” I chatter.
“Don’t worry, you won’t.”
“Ever the bottomless pessimist.”
Graham taps the steering wheel, clearly annoyed, as we inch forward in traffic.
“I told you I wanted to leave at four.”
“You needed to take that up with Greg Svensson. Six thirty is early for me.”
I open up my Dior tote bag to fish out a sandwich—prosciutto, soppressata, fresh mozzarella, and sweet roasted peppers.
“I brought you one too,” I tell him around a mouthful.
“I don’t want it.”
“We’re going to be in the car a while.” I check my phone.
“Yes, I know. We’re going to be late.”
He speeds up around the SUV in front of us as we cross the bridge out of the city.
“I’m chucking this dog out of the window!” I yell over the sound of the Frenchie’s whining. “I’m really going to have to turn to religion here. I’m feeling called to violence. Is there a young girl I can kidnap off the street to take my frustrations out on?” I yell and crank up the radio.
“I told you to leave earlier!” Graham yells over the sound of Lulu howling along to the radio.
She’s been whining for the two hours it took us to finally fight through traffic.
In his lap, Lulu whines, drools, and begs for food. I carefully feed her a little bit of bread and cheese. She stays quiet for all of twenty seconds.
“Don’t slobber all over Graham’s nice suit. Did you bring normal clothes to change into?” I demand.
“Says the woman wearing the skin of Bigfoot as a sweater.”
“I’m about to wear this dog as a sweater.”
“Don’t worry, Lulu.” Graham strokes the Frenchie’s ears. “I won’t let Mrs. American Psycho here touch you.”
We’re coasting through forest on a two-lane highway. Snow dots the trees. I roll down the window so I can smell the wood fires on the winter air.
At least we’re not going in summer, I remind myself. A weekend away would be ten times more awkward if I had to make small talk in a swimsuit.
“So do you have any rules for spending the weekend with your family? Dos and don’ts, topics to avoid? Besides the obvious,” I add hastily.
“Yes. Don’t be late.”
It’s pitch-dark outside. The radio is playing ’90s music, and I’m humming along. See? Born way too late. I missed my window.
“Let’s go to Paris.”
“What?” I turn down the music.
“Just you and me.”
I can’t read his face in the dark.
“I can take you to Paris right now. We can spend the weekend, or a whole week—as long as you want.”
The light from a passing car catches his eyes, turning them luminescent green.
“You’re not blaming me to your family when you don’t show up. I took one for the team for you and your social circle.” I shake my head. “Why don’t you want to see your family? Your sister seems nice.”
“Half sister.”
“Right. Look, I hate camping, too, but I think you’re being a little dramatic. Just drink, eat—I made more of those endive things you like—and nod along when Uncle Richard makes questionable comments about his housekeeper.”
That earns me a slight smirk.
“It’s actually Uncle Gino, so watch out.”
“Honestly, even though you just wrecked my life—”
“I was your winning lottery ticket, and instead of cashing it in, you made a shitty scrapbook with it—”
“—I’m looking forward to this weekend.”
“No, you’re not. You’re freaked out. I know you.” He glances at me.
“Fine. I’m thinking positive. I’ve been listening to a manifestation podcast.”
“I’d rather spend a week in Paris with you.”
“Really?” I snort. “Because I’d be dragging you to all the museums and all the pastry shops, and it would be really basic, and we’d have to stand in line at the Hermès store and be in there for like five hours while we wait around for them to decide if I’m worthy enough to get a bag.”
“My sister says if you have a man with you, they’ll just hand you one. Because they know he’s paying. Because they know he’ll do literally everything to leave immediately, up to and including spending a bunch of cash on an overpriced handbag.”
“They have amazing handbags.” I sigh wistfully.
“Since when do you care about designer purses? You never have a fancy handbag. This is the first time I’ve seen that.”
“I want to be the girl with the designer handbag. I’m trying to impress your family.”
“You won’t.” He says it darkly. “They don’t trust any woman who’d want to be with me.”
It might be all the cheese, but I grab his hand briefly on the gear shift.
“Our safe word can be Paris.”
“You could have stopped at that McDonald’s and let me use the bathroom,” I complain loudly as Graham carries all of our bags up the front porch while Lulu jumps around him, doing her best to trip him.
“Lulu, stop it,” I order.
She ignores me.
“I’m signing her up for dog training class, by the way,” Graham informs me.
“It wasn’t me! It’s not my dog.”
“She has your last name.”
“She was an unanticipated castoff from the VP of Client Relations. She came with no home training.”
“You can’t blame all of it on her traumatic puppyhood. I think bad dog momming is at least seventy-five percent of this.” Graham glances at me.
“Maybe it’s all the crappy men I bring in and out of her life who are doing it.”
“What other men?” Graham snarls, grabbing my arm.
I try to tug away. “Maybe ones that will stop and let a girl use the bathroom.”
“What part of ‘we are late’ do you not get?” he growls, dragging me to him, practically lifting me up off the porch…
Right as the front door swings open.
His parents stand there looking horrified.
Graham drops me in surprise.