Chapter 16 #2
“Thank you, dear.” She wipes under her eyes with manicured fingers.
“Look at me, already needing a touch up. So glad I got that out before I got too buzzed.” Her smile falters, and she looks up at the balcony toward Danny again.
His posture is relaxed, and he’s laughing at something one of the guests said.
“I hope you won’t judge his past behavior too harshly. It’s never his aim to hurt anyone.”
“Judging people harshly is kind of a bad habit of mine,” I admit. “But I’m working on it.”
“Oh, we’re all working on things, dear. I’m working on not getting excited about calling my friends with bad news. It’s just so fun, though.” She frowns. “But I practice my Ho’oponopono and move on.”
“That may be the only self-help technique on earth that I’m not familiar with yet.”
“Oh, it’s an oldie but a goodie—four phrases that can fix just about anything.”
“What are they?”
Tutu’s eyes sparkle. “Ask Danny. He knows them by heart.”
Dinner is amazing, fresh barbecued fish with fruit, salad, and roasted corn. One by one, the relatives stand to toast their matriarch, and I clap politely next to Danny.
He leans in to whisper in my ear, “Did she say anything embarrassing about me?”
“Didn’t have to. Just showed me pictures of you in middle school,” I whisper back.
Danny’s dimple glows in the candlelight. His lips come close to my ear again.
“You didn’t let her have your phone, did you? Trust me—you’ll need to debug it.”
I bump my shoulder to his, urging him to be quiet.
“You’re going to get us into trouble,” I say, my smiling cheeks flushed from both Danny’s mischievousness and the half glass of champagne I’m sipping.
Now I understand why kids sat in the back of the auditorium.
Everything is more fun to talk about when you’re supposed to be paying attention.
Tutu glances in our direction, raising an eyebrow at us. But she doesn’t look angry. More like amused.
“We missed the last train,” I say, checking my watch. “We’ll need a hotel for the night.”
Danny bumps my knee under the table.
“I have a better idea.”
The boathouse is strung with café lights, and inside floats a forty-foot cabin cruiser with teak trim. Danny climbs aboard and offers his hand. I step on gingerly, feeling the boat move gently underfoot. The lake laps lightly at the hull, the sky showing off a million stars.
“I camped here all the time as a teenager,” Danny says, leading me down into the boat’s interior cabin.
He takes two plaid sleeping bags from a glossy wooden cabinet, along with a flask of cinnamon whiskey.
He unrolls the sleeping bags neatly on the special V-shaped mattress that takes up the bow of the boat, and then holds his arm out, inviting me in.
“Yeah, I’m not sure sleeping in a luxury yacht counts as camping,” I tease. “Did you bring cinnamon whiskey with you then too?”
I climb onto the mattress and tug my sleeping bag slightly farther away from his. It’s cozy in the hull of the boat, but there is plenty of room for the two of us. Even Danny can sit completely upright without hitting his head.
He grins. “Bad boy rule number one—always have a flask of whiskey. Keeps out the cold.”
“I hate to break it to you,” I say, stealing the flask and taking a sip, “but only daiquiri drinkers and mean sorority girls consider Fireball a whiskey. Real bad boys drink rye.”
“Sounds like there’s a story there.” Danny leans back against the wall, his eyebrows raised in interest. “Someone you know?”
“Oh, if only there were one,” I say coyly, and Danny grins. “No, I’ve always adhered to a strict ‘no bad boy’ policy. A ‘no bad anything’ policy, really.”
“Tell me.”
“Why do you always want to hear about my life? I’m supposed to be coaching you.”
Danny studies my face. “Let’s just say you hold my interest.”
My cheeks flame. It feels so good, wanting to be known.
“OK,” I say, stretching my legs out in front of me. “So, nothing was in my control as a kid. Not keeping my parents together. Not keeping my house functioning. But I could be good. I could control that. I could be so good, the rest of it wouldn’t matter.
“And so, I was. I woke up before dawn to do calisthenics in my bedroom. I ate vegetables, even for breakfast, and washed and dried my plate and fork. I kept them in my bedroom so they wouldn’t get lost, right on my nightstand.
And I studied everything about living a disciplined life.
Being good made me feel safe. But it alienated me from my peers.
By the time college rolled around, I’d do just about anything to fit in.
So, I skipped the good girl sorority in favor of the mean party girls who publicly circle your flaws with a sharpie.
” I pat my teardrop-tiny breasts, shapeless hips, knobby knees.
Danny isn’t smiling. A deep crease cuts between his brows.
“I thought, after rush, things would get better. But one night, they had me eavesdrop while each of my pledge sisters were brought in blindfolded and interviewed about me. One by one, each sister explained how they didn’t like me.
Couldn’t connect with me.” A lump grows in my throat.
Danny presses his hand to my back. “Ally couldn’t stand those girls. ‘Basic bitches,’ she called them.”
“A good friend.”
I nod. “But she never understood what it felt like, the wanting to belong. She had older sisters,” I explain, “so no matter what happened in her life, she had this safety net of love ready to catch her. It made her fearless. That’s why I joined in the first place. For the sisterhood.”
“So, what happened? Did you quit?”
“The opposite,” I admit. “I tried to win them over by smuggling their cocaine to Whistler for the Greek ski trip. Ended up getting caught at the border, and they all pointed the finger at me.” Even now, goosebumps break out across my skin.
“My dad’s a lawyer, so he made sure I got through it OK, but he was humiliated.
I had to go to the courthouse, explain what happened in front of all his poker buddies.
Pick up trash on the roadside. He retired from practicing law shortly after, and I haven’t been able to speak in public ever since. ”
Danny’s eyes are thoughtful, and his voice is low when he asks, “Why do you think they didn’t feel close to you?”
I blink at him, which does nothing to lessen the burn of tears in my eyes. “Because of the way that I am. My personality,” I say, holding out my arms. Really, he must already know this by now. “I’m like a walking no-fun sign. Nobody wants to hang out with the chaperone.”
Danny bumps the side of his body into mine.
“I want to hang out with the chaperone.”
“Well, that’s just great,” I say, swiftly wiping my eyes, “considering my aforementioned bad-boy policy.”
Danny laughs, then looks down at his hands, which are worrying a loose string on the sleeping bag.
“I’m not a bad boy, Lauren. Not really. The person I hurt most is myself.”
“Well, that we have in common.” I look away. “Your grandmother told me about a secret practice. Something she said fixes everything.”
Danny smiles. “Ah, her Ho’oponopono. When you get into as much trouble as I did, you memorize it pretty quickly.”
“Can you tell me what it means?”
Danny looks up, thinking of how to explain it.
“It’s a cleansing. Basically, you say four phrases out loud and suddenly things become very clear.
Hang-ups, barriers, guilt, obstacles—they all get cleansed away to help you move forward.
It’s a bit like soul-healing magic in that way … if you believe in that kind of thing.”
“Can you teach me?”
“Sure.” He turns so that he’s facing me, his legs crossed. I do the same, so our knees are touching. “OK, repeat after me, and speak to your deepest self.” Danny gazes into my eyes, nods slightly, and begins. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry”
“Please forgive me.”
“Please forgive me.”
“Thank you.”
“Thank you.”
Danny hesitates. “I love you.”
“I … love you.”
My chest rises and falls with effort, like the air is too thick. Before I can overthink it, I reach out and touch his cheek, trailing my finger down to his dimple and across his strong jaw. His eyes close, taking in the sensation like one takes in sunbeams on their face.
When he opens them again, his mouth parts in surprise when he sees what I’m doing.
My fingertips clutch the zipper of the old UFC sweatshirt I borrowed for the night. I unzip it slowly. His breath catches when my breasts peek out into the cool night air. My nipples pinch from the chill as much as my arousal.
Danny swallows, his jaw flexing as he takes me in. “What are you doing?” he asks, his voice low, urgent. Like he needs to verify immediately that this isn’t a dream.
“I’m doing what feels good in the moment. It’s so clear to me now. What you said on the train … you weren’t wrong. I don’t know how to fully enjoy the moment I’m in. Or how to let people in. It’s ruining my life.”
Danny swallows hard. “Lauren …”
“It’s like living behind glass,” I say quickly. “I’m like a doll in a curio cabinet that nobody loves because they think it’s too precious to touch. And I’m the one who built the glass. I need someone to break it.”
His brow is furrowed, but he can’t take his eyes off me. His gaze slides over my body, dragging over my clavicle, up to my lips.
“You can’t want this. I break everything I touch.”
“Good,” I say, grabbing his hand and placing it on my heart. “Then touch me.”
He swallows hard. “What about our rule?”
“We said we wouldn’t fall in love. We didn’t stipulate anything regarding sex.
And I checked your onboarding contract. Nothing explicitly specified nonfraternization.
” I slip the hoodie off my shoulders so that my breasts are free, just shy of where I placed his hand.
“Just another one of your hedonism lessons; that’s all it will be.
But this time, I want you to focus on teaching me how to be comfortable with physical pleasure. ”