Her Last Good Deed

Almost seventeen-year-old Lydia Sands is escaping a dangerous situation at home when she chooses to defend herself from an attacker and ends up running from a potential murder charge. Lydia heads for the safe house where she and her mother stayed a few years ago. If anyone can help her now, it’s Bette Abel.

Bette’s mind is failing faster than her heart. Her biggest fear is that she’ll slip and say the wrong thing to the wrong person. The problem is she knows too much about too many people. If she were to mention the extra body buried in the family cemetery the man she loves like a grandson could land in prison. If she reveals the whereabouts of certain women they could end up dead.

Bette decides there’s only one solution. She’ll end her own life before she risks endangering those who have put their trust in her.

If this story sounds like your cup of tea and you’re not already on the list, please consider signing up to be informed of release dates.

I’m excited to share that my short story Trina, is going to be included in the Four Corners Voices Anthology Volume Two!

The first volume was published last fall and won the Colorado book award in the anthology category. According to Chuck Greaves the short story editor, the quality of submissions is even better this time!

I’m honored to have my work showcased.

Trina is a standalone story that takes place at Abel Acres, the setting for my upcoming series about a home for those escaping their abusers. House of Hurt—putting the HER in hero.

Now back to work on book one! Current title: Her Last Good Deed. (I can’t guarantee this won’t change.)

Something sharp poked into the bottom of her foot and Trina swore softly, not wanting to offend the old lady in the kitchen. 

She kicked at the culprit, a chunk of dried mud.

The mud room definitely lived up to its name.

There were more than a dozen pairs of boots and shoes in various sizes, all muddy to one degree or another. The hooks on the wall held enough flannels, zippered hoodies and canvas farm coats to stock a small thrift store.

Trina chose a purple sweatshirt because it wasn’t black or navy or tan like everything else in here. She pulled a black canvas coat over the sweatshirt, stepped her size eight feet into size ten rubber boots, and opened the back door. She was greeted by fifteen degrees of hell hath frozen over.

Morning light sparkled off the icicles dangling from the gutters. Snow covered the hills in every direction. This place was six hours south of Denver by car. It was cold in the city too, but days like this were meant for staying indoors.

Or, if she had to go out, being in the car with the heat on full blast, wearing her calf length lavender down coat. She loved that coat. She missed that coat.

It was a gift from Don. He enjoyed giving her pretty clothes and expensive jewelry and he had good taste. It was one of his better qualities.

What would he think if he could see her now? Bundled up in bulky, ugly clothes that had been worn by God only knew how many other unlucky women, hiding in this dilapidated old farmhouse, trudging through four inches of fresh snow on her way to a goat pen.

A goat pen.

She, a city girl through and through. Trina dreamt of penthouses not henhouses and certainly not goat pens.

If she’d known that one desperate phone call would land her here would she still have made it? At this moment, before coffee and breakfast, with the wind already numbing her face she could not honestly say yes.

Not that anyone was asking.

Her own friends had gone to the wayside one by one since she’d moved in with Don and her disapproving family left it up to her to call them these days. The friends she shared with Don would believe whatever he told them. He could be very persuasive.

Never in her life had she felt so alone.

The people here said they could help her, and she did appreciate it, but it’s not like they weren’t asking anything in return. Chores are required, they said. Trina had expected a bit of light house work, not this. 

She pulled open the gate and entered the pen, hungry goats bleating at her and swarming her legs. So many goats. Black ones, brown ones, white ones, with horns and without. Some big and some small, but no babies—kids as she now knew they were called—were in the next pen with the mama’s.

The ones surrounding her were all begging for food. 

“Yeah, I get it, you’re hungry. So am I.”

Michelle had shown Trina where the food was the day before. A big woman with brown skin, somewhere in her forties, Michelle is the one who had picked Trina up at the mini mart at three a.m. and brought her here. Trina’s car, a gift from Don, had his name on the title, not hers. He wouldn’t have reported it stolen because cops were the last people he’d want to deal with, but even if she’d been in any condition to drive herself, Trina wouldn’t have dared take the Mustang. It would have given him one more reason to track her down. 

She scooped oats out of the bin, hearing Michelle’s explanation.

“They get hay and extra oats to fatten them up.” 

“Why fatten them?” Trina asked.

“They’re meat goats.” 

Trina shuddered.

Michelle laughed.

“I didn’t know people eat goats.”

“People will eat anything if they’re hungry enough. Goat’s not bad, but it is a bit gamey, like venison.”

“Gross. No venison or goat for me.”

“I hate to tell you this,” Michelle smiled in a way that indicated the opposite, “but Bette’s breakfast sausage is made of goat meat.”

No wonder she’d felt queasy after breakfast yesterday. Feeling tricked, Trina had made a mental vow to avoid meat while she was here. 

As she filled the troughs with hay and added the oats, Trina thought again about the lavender coat hanging in her closet. How long until Don got rid of her clothes? Would he let Brit go through her stuff and take what she wanted? A friend of Don’s sister, Brit spent a lot of time at the house and made no secret of coveting everything that belonged to Trina. Including Don.

Trina still had a house key in her purse. She’d go in while Don was at work. She’d clean the place, as it would certainly be a mess, and then she’d order take out–chinese food was his favorite. Dinner would be waiting when he got home. She’d slip right back into her old life as if she’d never left.

Sober, Don would be happy to see her. He’d apologize for losing his temper, and promise that things would be different this time. These were all things he’d said before, but one thing was already different this time—she’d never left before. Now that he knew she had the guts to leave him, he’d realize that it was him who had to change. He’d have to treat her better if he wanted her to stay.

Trina made her way into the birthing pen.

The mama goat and her new kid looked cozy enough, settled in a bed of straw. Wilma F. is what Michelle said her name was. The old lady named her after Wilma Flinstone due to the tuft of red hair that stuck up on her head.

Trina knelt next to the goat and stroked the tuft, smoothing it down. A memory came to her. A conversation between her mother and grandmother about The Flintstones, a prehistoric cartoon family. Her grandma defended the show saying that Fred was flawed, but basically a good person, while Trina’s mother insisted that Fred was a typical bad-tempered, man-boy and Wilma F. could do better.

Trina gave the baby a gentle pet and spoke soothingly to Wilma F.

“It must be nice, not having to deal with the billygoat who knocked you up. You get to rest in peace with your baby.”

Rest in peace.

Maybe not the best choice of words.

Trina pushed her tongue into the space where one of her front teeth used to be. Don owed it to her to fix this. She’d make it a condition of her coming home.

Thoughts far away, Trina headed for the chicken coop.

The smell of sausage hit her the moment she stepped into the kitchen. She brought her hand to her mouth and looked around for a place to vomit. Fortunately it was a false alarm, only a dry heave.

The kitchen has deep double sinks, and no dishwasher. Cast iron pots hang on nails on the wall, down low so Bette can reach them. A tiny white-haired woman in her seventies, Bette, wearing baggy jeans and an old wool sweater with a hole in it, stands at the stove stirring oats. “How’s Wilma this morning?”

“She seemed fine to me.” But what do I know about goats? Or being a new mom?

“This will be her last kid. She’s getting old.”

“What’s considered old in goat years?” Trina asked to be polite, not because she cared.

“She’s ten now and she’ll probably live another five to eight years.” 

“How many babies–kids–has she had?”

“This is number ten.”

“One a year. Sounds like hell to me.”

“She had twins twice.”

“Even worse.” Trina’s hand went to her belly.

Bette noticed. “Feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I’m all right. It’s just that the smell of the sausage is getting to me.”

Bette nodded. “The oatmeal might sit better. It’s ready if you want to serve yourself.”

Trina remembered what Michelle said about using oats to fatten up the goats. Don always noticed when she gained weight, even a couple pounds. There was no way to stop it now so she might as well enjoy the oatmeal. She filled her bowl, added raisins, almonds, cinnamon and honey and sat down at the old battered wooden table.

It looked more like an outdoor table than an indoor one and was long enough to seat six with a bench against the wall. There were messages carved into the table. Right next to her bowl were the words: Thanks Bette, you’re an angel, A.G.

Bette sat across from her. She looked child-sized, but her face was far from youthful. Deep horizontal fault lines stretched from her eyes to her jaw. Her coloring was a permanent brown, the kind you get from living your life too close to the sun. Her eyes were a bright sparkly blue, her short hair as white as a piece of paper.

“I got you an appointment with a dentist to have a bridge put in.”

“A bridge, not implants?”

“I haven’t found a surgeon willing to do implants for free. They’re too expensive.”

Trina flushed, embarrassed to have sounded ungrateful. She was a charity case after all. But a bridge meant having two good teeth whittled down to stubs to support the fake tooth. Implants were more like real teeth. Don could afford implants. If she asked in exactly the right way, and if she took on some of the blame—admitted she shouldn’t have said what she said, especially not when he’d been drinking—would he offer to pay?

If she came back, he’d want her to be pretty again.

“I have a lead on a receptionist job in Albuquerque. It doesn’t pay much but it’s a start.”

Trina thought again of her full closet. “I’ll have to go back and get my clothes.”

Bette frowned, causing the lines that flared out from the sides of her eyes to deepen. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“If I go when he’s at work it’ll be fine.”

“You said before that he comes home at random times during the day.”

“I can’t just leave everything behind.”

“I’d suggest you have a police officer go with you, but you’ve said that isn’t an option.”

“It’s not.” If the cops showed up at his door, if they searched the place, Don would make good on his threat to accuse her of theft. The coats and jewelry were only the tip of the iceberg. Now that she knew the truth of where the gifts—and all his extra income—came from, she wouldn’t be able to lie convincingly. 

Who would believe you? Brit will back my story, not yours, you know that right? She did know it. She knew too much now, that was the problem. If only she’d handled it better when she found out, and not threatened to report him. If, instead of yelling and making him feel bad—men had such fragile egos—she’d assured him that she was content with what he earned working construction. She didn’t need fancy stuff. He was enough. Together, they had everything they needed to live a good life, start a family together. If she’d stayed calm he may have listened to her and she wouldn’t have had to leave.

“I know a place that gives out vouchers for a couple of outfits. Not new, but gently used, good for job interviews and work.”

Trina nodded, barely aware that she’d stopped eating and was absently tracing the letters carved into the wood with her index finger. 

“She’s dead,” Bette said.

“Who?”

“Alana Gavin. A.G.”

Trina pulled her hand away from the letters as if dying were a virus she might catch. “How?”

“A single bullet in the forehead.”

Trina shuddered. “Her man found her?”

“He didn’t have to look for her. She went back on her own.”

“Why?”

“She wanted to give him one more chance for the sake of the kids. They had two boys, seven and nine. They missed their father.”

“I see.”

“So did they. He made them watch.”

“Jesus. Why are you telling me this?”

But she knew. Of course she did. The answer was in Bette’s blue eyes—eyes so intense that it hurt to look into them. Trina lowered her gaze, stared into her oatmeal.

After a moment Trina brought a spoonful to her mouth. It had gone cold, and was getting gluey. An almond got stuck in the raw spot where her tooth used to be. She pushed it out with her tongue, flinching at the pain. The wound needed a bit more time to heal. 

The nausea came roaring back. This time it wasn’t a false alarm. She looked around, frantic.

A trash can appeared in front of her. 

When Trina was finished, Bette pulled the string on the white trash sack, lifted it out of the container and carried it outside.

Trina pushed the oatmeal bowl aside.

Bette came back inside. She opened the cupboard under the sink, retrieved a fresh trash sack, and inserted it in the container.

She washed her hands.

“You mentioned a clinic,” Trina said, one hand on her abdomen.

Bette sat back down at the table. “We can make you an appointment if that’s what you want.”

It wasn’t. Not really.

None of this is what she wanted.

Bette’s wrinkled, brown-spotted hand came to rest on Trina’s smooth, unblemished one. “Whatever you decide, know that you’re not alone.”

It wasn’t true.

Trina knew that she was alone in the same way that everyone is alone, trapped within their one and only body and living their one and only life, for good or for bad.

And yet, at this moment she felt less alone than she had in a long time, and that meant something.

End

Read Chapter One Here:

Read Chapter Eighteen Here:

More than fifty people showed up for Grandma Cotton's birthday party. It was a beautiful sunny day. Ginny was in a particularly good mood. Her father had gotten a job the week before, and moved into the apartment with her mother. They were back to their usual selves, still bickering, but it was different now. The underlying anger was gone. Ginny had witnessed moments of genuine affection between them—something she hadn't seen in a long time.

Ginny was sitting in a lawn chair with a book, watching her cousins play badminton when Bryn came over with baby Logan and sat in the chair next to her. “Did you hear? I’m going to be a nanny for this cute little guy three days a week.”

“I’m only a little jealous,” Ginny said, tickling Logan’s bare toes.

“I’m going back to school to focus on early childhood education,” Bryn said. “Grandma says I can live here rent free as long as I take her grocery shopping once a week and help out with the work around here.”

“Sounds like a good plan.” Ginny wondered if Bryn would follow through with it.

She heard the sound of a motorcycle, still a way off. “Pierce is here. Or he will be in a minute. Jason should be here soon, too.”

“Do you really think this is a good idea?” Bryn asked.

“Jason needs to do this. You said you were okay with it.”

“Remember, I had nothing to do with it.” Bryn got up and moved to the other side of the badminton game. She sat on the grass with Logan on her lap.

Pierce arrived, holding a bag of chips in one hand and a wooden box with black and white squares, in the other. As he walked past the badminton game, a wayward birdie hit the side of his head. He set the chips down, picked up the birdie and tossed it to Angel. She smacked it over the net to Callie who dove for it and missed.

“Rough game,” Pierce said.

Ginny eyed the box and smiled. “Did you bring checkers?”

“No.” Pierce took the seat that Bryn had vacated. “This is a chess set. We’re going to play chess.”

“For real?”

“I can’t believe you asked me that. Yes, for real.”

“You’re not going to get mad when I win, are you?”

Pierce just smiled.

Janelle came over. “Is that Jason’s car?”

Ginny looked. Sure enough, Jason had arrived. “He has something to say to you and dad.”

“This is going to be awkward isn’t it?”

“Yes, but probably more for him than for anyone else. I should have warned Dad, so he doesn't punch him or anything.”

“You know your father wouldn't really—” Janelle frowned. “I’ll go talk to him, just in case.”

“Your dad was going to punch Jason?” Pierce asked.

“He was considering the idea when Jason didn’t show up for the wedding.”

“Understandable,” Pierce said.

Jason was in the yard now, walking toward them. He wore tan shorts that made his legs look skinny, or maybe they were always thin, and she hadn't noticed before, and a short-sleeved button-up shirt. He walked straight to Ginny, his presence generating a few looks and even some whispers from the Cottons who knew who he was.

Pierce clapped him on the shoulder, “You’re a brave man.”

“Thanks.” Jason sent a wistful look in Bryn’s direction. 

Bryn was busy playing with the baby and not looking their way.

“I want to apologize to your parents, and your grandma,” Jason said.

“All right then, let’s get this over with.” Ginny took his arm and walked him across the yard to the barbecue and the table covered with food. Grandma Cotton was setting out some corn on the cob.

“I came to say that I’m sorry for everything.”

Virginia didn’t hesitate. She hugged him. “You’re forgiven. It’s over now, time to move on.”

Ginny’s parents were standing next to the grill. Jason made it quick. He was sorry and wished there was some way he could make up for all the time and work they’d put into the wedding. They both looked uncomfortable.

“Well, the house did need painting,” Walt said, “and the yard hasn’t looked this good in years.”

It was as close to an “apology accepted” as it was going to get.

“We’re glad that you’re doing better,” Janelle said. “You are, aren't you?”

“Yes. I’m planning to move to San Francisco. I think the change would be a good thing.”

“But it’s so far away,” Ginny said.

She felt Pierce’s arm around her shoulder. “It’s not that far. Steele and I have road tripped there on our bikes a couple of times, for the fun of it. We could take a long weekend sometime and visit.”

“Take my daughter out on one of those death traps, and you'll regret it,” Janelle said.

“Don’t worry, Mom, there’s no way I’m getting on the back of that thing.”

“We could also drive a car,” Pierce said.

“I had a dream last night that you sold Walt’s bike and your own too,” Janelle said. “You bought two infant car seats instead.”

“Two?” Pierce asked wide-eyed.

“Two. And they were pink. Do you think it was a premonition?”

“No,” Ginny said, terrified by the thought of having two babies at once.

“Maybe.” Pierce squeezed Ginny’s hand.

“The first batch of burgers is done! Come and get them!” Walt yelled.

Ginny tried to get Jason to stay for food, but he declined. When she realized he was leaving, Grandma Cotton thrust a couple of giant zucchini into his arms.

“Uh, thanks.”

“Give them to your mother. She’ll know what to do with them.”

Ginny walked Jason to his car.

 Jason set the zucchini on the hood. “That went okay, didn’t it?”

“About as well as can be expected.”

“Bryn hasn’t forgiven me.”

“No. She will eventually. Maybe. Even if she doesn't, you can’t be responsible for anyone else’s feelings.”

“Not even when I’ve trampled on them?”

“You need to stop with the guilt Jason. Like my grandma said, it’s time to move on.”

Jason nodded. “That’s what I’m doing. Dr. Vaughn is going to get me in to see a therapist in San Francisco. Peter has friends there that he’ll introduce me to.”

“You have friends here.”

“I like the idea of going somewhere new and making a fresh start. Is that wrong?”

Ginny sighed. “No. Maybe I’m being selfish because I’ll miss you.”

Jason smiled. “You have a boyfriend now. You don't need me.”

“Pierce brought a chess set. He thinks he wants to play me.”

“Be gentle with him, Ginny, and call me later and let me know how it goes.”

“I will. Don’t forget the zucchini.”

Jason took the zucchini off the hood and held one in each hand so that they were facing each other. He spoke in a high-pitched voice, “Where do you suppose this guy is taking us?”

“I don’t know,” he replied, in a deeper voice, moving the larger zucchini as if it were a puppet, “but we need to get out of here before that old lady makes bread out of us!”

Ginny laughed.

Jason set the zucchini on the front seat of his car. He undid the first few buttons on his shirt, and opened it, revealing the writing on the tank top underneath. Gay Pride. 

“What do you think?”

“I like it.” She hugged him hard, her eyes filling with tears.

“No crying, Ginny. I’m going to be okay. I promise.”

“I know you are. These are happy tears.”

****

It was well after dinner when Pierce insisted on setting the chess board up on the porch.

A couple of moves in Ginny said, “You’ve been reading up on openings.”

“Yep,” Pierce said.

“You've been studying haven't you?” she asked, several moves later.

“You said you couldn’t date a guy who doesn’t know how to play chess.”

“I didn’t think you’d take that seriously.”

Pierce just smiled.

Halfway through, Ginny started to get worried. Not wanting him to know it, she put on her poker face. “You don't think you're going to win, do you?”

Pierce reached across the table and took her hand. “There’s something I should tell you before we finish this game.”

“What’s that?”

“I love you,” he said, looking deeply into her eyes.

“Oh.” Ginny got the warm tingly feeling. She’d been thinking it, feeling it, and now she said the words out loud. “I love you too.”

“Good,” he released her hand and went back to studying the board.

“Wait, what does that have to do with our game?”

Pierce looked up. “I love you, but I always play to win.”

The End  

I hope you enjoyed the story! It was a fun one to write. I’ve been sharing my fiction here for a year now and it’s been a good experience. I’m deep into the next story—a series I plan to call House of Hurt. More on this next time. I’m realizing that for me to do my best work I must follow Stephen King’s advice and write the first draft ‘with the door closed’—meaning I need to get the story clear in my own mind before I let others read it.

So Love and Lies Lit will look a bit different in 2025. I’ll still be sending newsletters on a schedule but they’ll be short and sweet and every other week! Contents will vary, but I’m thinking some micro fiction, micro memoir, inspiring quotes and a book rec or two.

Happy Reading!

read Chapter One Here:

Read Chapter Seventeen Here:

Pierce was in the middle of a virtual chess game on Thursday evening when Steele came down the stairs with popcorn and beer. Pierce set the computer on the coffee table and took a beer.

“You’re such a nerd,” Steele said, glancing at the screen as he sat down. “I just got off the phone with Dad. Princess has cancer. It’s progressed too far for surgery.”

“The rat’s a goner?”

“Yep. She's in pain, and the vet is recommending she be put down.”

“What does Charmaine say about that?”

“Dad says she’s pretty upset.”

“I’m sure.”

“They’re going to do it Monday.”

Pierce reached for a handful of popcorn, but his hand stopped halfway there. “We should do something for her.”

“The dog or Charmaine?”

“We should have them over on Saturday.”

“Who?”

“Our family. You know, Charmaine, Princess, Dad.” 

“You want to have Dad over?” 

Pierce ignored his incredulous tone. “I’ll barbecue. We’ll have steak, baked potatoes, and corn on the cob.”

“Steak isn’t on their diet. Neither are potatoes. It’ll have to be chicken or fish, and a salad or some other vegetable.”

“How about salmon and asparagus and some good bread?”

“No bread, not for them anyway. We can have it. While we’re at it, why don’t we have all our cute photos of Princess printed out? We could blow them up to life size and decorate the living room with them.”

Pierce smiled. “I have a photo of her teeth marks on my arm. Should we put that up too?”

“Hell yes.”

Pierce thought of something else he could do for Charmaine. He picked up his phone and sent a text to Ginny. I need a pet urn.

Her reply came within seconds. Why?           

Princess has cancer. They’re going to have her put to sleep.

Oh no. Charmaine must be devastated.

She is. Can you talk?              

His phone rang.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“We're having a get-together at my place tomorrow after work to say our last goodbyes to Princess, and I'd like to give her the urn then.”

“What a nice gesture. My dad makes some with a heart-shaped picture frame on the front.”

“That sounds like her style. We're busy at work, like always, but I thought I could drive out to your parent’s place on my lunch break. That is if someone will be there.”

“I can call and make sure my dad will be home, or I could pick it up myself and save you the trip.”

“That would be great if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t. I’ll go on Saturday and drop the urn off at the shop.”

“Or you could bring it to my house later, and stay for dinner. We're grilling salmon. You could say goodbye to Princess. She liked you.”

“Um, I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Okay. Either way, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Sure. All right.”

When Pierce hung up, Steele was smiling. “For a minute there I thought you were doing this for Charmaine.”

“I am. But if it gets Ginny here, that’s a bonus.”

“A bonus?”

It was a lot more than that. At the moment, it felt like everything.

****

On the way to her Mom’s apartment on Saturday, Ginny saw a woman standing on the exit ramp holding a sign. She had the look of a Hollywood actress past her prime—big sunglasses and big, bleached blonde hair. Her sign read: 2 honest to steal, 2 ugly to strip.

Ginny slowed down and dug into her purse with her free hand. She got out her wallet and pulled out her only bill, a ten. She held it out the window. The woman jogged over. High on her cheek was a greenish- yellow bruise.

“Thanks, Darling. Appreciate it.”

The bill was gone before Ginny could even tell her that she liked her sign.

When she got to her mother’s apartment, the living room looked exactly as it had the last time. The white walls were still bare. The painting of the horse and the barn was still leaning against the wall, waiting to belong somewhere. There were still boxes piled up in one corner.

In the kitchen, her mother poured iced tea and lemonade. They sat on a tiny patio that reeked of the neighbor’s cigarettes, their conversation occasionally interrupted by the same neighbor sticking her head out the back door to yell at her kids, who were playing on the lawn.

“Bryn has taken over the guest bedroom. I’m afraid she’s going to do what your father did after he lost the business. I know it's only been six days, and she’s hurt and humiliated, but I’m afraid she’s going to hide out there and let Virginia take care of her.”

“Bryn will be fine. She’ll bounce right back and move on to the next guy, and the next job,” Ginny said.

“Have you talked to her?”

“No. We argued, and haven't talked since.”

“Put that stick down, or I'm going to whip your butt with it!” screamed the neighbor lady.

“You should talk to her.”

It was the last thing Ginny felt like doing. “I might have to. I'm going to Grandma's to pick out an urn for Pierce's parent's dog. She has cancer, and it's not operable, so they have to put her to sleep.”

“Oh, that’s too bad. I was under the impression that you weren’t seeing him anymore, that something happened.”

“I suppose Bryn told you all about it.”

“Bryn didn’t tell me anything.”

“Oh.”

“It’s obvious that something happened.”

“I don't want to talk about it.”

Janelle nodded. “I hate to see you fighting with your sister, especially now. Bryn could use your support right now.”

Ginny watched the neighbor boy wrestle his brother to the grass while trying to pry a football out of his hands. “This wasn’t all Jason’s fault you know.”

“It’s never all one person’s fault when things go wrong. Spreading the blame doesn't change a thing or do anyone a bit of good.”

Afraid that her mom was going to start talking about her marriage, say that it was over, Ginny stood up. “I've got to go.”

“Avoid the bacon. Your father is heading for a heart attack eating Virginia’s BLTs for lunch every Saturday.”

Ginny nodded, and went back inside. While putting her glass in the dishwasher, she noticed the hand-carved box sitting on the kitchen counter, next to a full box of kitchen pans. She traced her finger over the letters carved on the lid. W.C. and J.C. forever. It was quite possibly the most romantic thing her father had ever done. That it was one of the few items her mother had unpacked meant something, didn’t it?

When Janelle walked in, Ginny pulled her hand away.

“Funny how things work out, isn’t it?” Janelle wiped away a tear. “I never imagined this happening to us.”

Ginny gave her mom a good long hug.

****

When she got to Grandma Cotton’s house, Ginny followed the smell of bacon to the kitchen, where she found her grandmother making BLTs. Walt and Bryn were waiting for theirs.

“Hungry?” Virginia asked.

Three strips of bacon on white toast smeared with full- fat mayo were not on her healthy foods list. Oh, what the hell. “Yes.”

“Giving up on your diet?” Bryn asked.

“It’s not a diet it’s a—”

“—lifestyle change. Yeah, I know.” Bryn rolled her eyes.

Ignoring her, Ginny turned to her dad. “I need an urn.”

He looked up from the comics. “Yeah? What size?”

“The smallest. It’s for a Chihuahua-Pomeranian mix. One of those with a heart shaped cut- out for a photo would be great.”

He was already on his feet. “I've got a couple of those in the smallest size. I'll get them, and you can choose. Who is it for?”

Ginny glanced at Bryn, who was focused on the newspaper, and wished that she wasn’t in the room. “Pierce’s stepmother’s dog has cancer and has to be put to sleep.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.” He went out the door.

“You're not still seeing that guy?” Bryn asked.

Ginny shrugged.

“After what he did? Really?”

“He said he was sorry.”

“So what? Jason is sorry too, and it doesn't change a damned thing.”

“We didn’t even know each other when he made that stupid bet. Of course, you and Jason barely knew each other when he proposed. It was a terrible idea from the beginning. I was totally against it.”

“You never once came right out and said it, though, did you?”

Had she? Ginny quickly dismissed the thought. “You wouldn't have listened even if I had.”

“I’m your sister. You should have tried harder to convince me.”

“So it was my job to prevent you from getting hurt while you were intentionally trying to hurt me? You knew how I felt about Jason and you still went for him. How much more selfish could you be?”

“Let me ask you this. Did you ever once come right out and tell Jason how you felt?”

“What does that have to do with it?”

“Everything. It has everything to do with it. If you’re too much of a chicken to go for the guy you want, then you don’t deserve to have him. Love is not for wimps.”

“You’re right,” Ginny said, surprising herself.

Bryn stared at her as if she couldn't believe what she’d just heard.

“You're right. I should have told Jason how I felt a long time ago. If he'd told me he didn't feel the same way, I could have moved on. I could have been having real experiences instead of living in a fantasy world, but I'm not the only one who has been trying to take the easy route. Instead of waiting for Prince Charming to come along and take care of you, you should start looking for a job that you want to do, or go back to school if that's what needs to happen, but do something with your life, Bryn. Make a decision and stick with it for once.”

Bryn started to retort, but Walt came back inside, and she put the newspaper in front of her face instead.

Walt set three small boxes on the table.

“They’re all so pretty,” Ginny said, admiring each in turn.

“What’s the dog’s name?” he asked.

“Princess. Her owner certainly treated her like one.”

“This one is my favorite for a female,” Walt said, tracing one finger over the intricate floral design. “It took a lot of time to get it right. I'd planned to charge a bit more for it, but I'll give your friend a deal since he gave me one for the work he did on my bike.”

“He did?”

“Yep. I like Pierce. He seems like a good guy.”

Bryn snorted.

Ginny ignored her. “He is a good guy.”

“Lunch is ready,” Grandma Cotton said.

After she'd eaten, Ginny sent Pierce a text. What time is dinner? I’ll bring fruit salad.

Pierce’s reply arrived immediately. We’re eating at 6:30. I’ll be home around 5:30. You can come over anytime after that.

****

Ginny got to Pierce's house early. He wasn't home yet. It was too warm to wait in the car, so she got out and sat on the front steps. She had on a new outfit: a sleeveless coral blouse and a print skirt that she worried was too short for the occasion. Thinking of Charmaine, always dressed to show off every asset, she decided she probably didn't need to worry about his parents judging her in that way.

Five minutes into her wait, Ginny had to pee. It was probably a nervous pee, as she’d gone before she left the house. Another five minutes and her foot began to jiggle. The situation was quickly becoming urgent.

Pierce would be here any minute, so there was nothing to worry about.

Ten minutes later, there was, undoubtedly, something to worry about. It was too late now to drive to the nearest store or restaurant to use the bathroom. Driving would be quite uncomfortable, not to mention risky. If traffic was backed up, or there was an accident, Ginny might have an accident inside the car.

In desperation, Ginny searched the area around the front door for a spare key. Nothing. She checked the back door. It was locked. At this rate, she'd be peeing in the yard. Ginny imagined Pierce catching her squatting in his backyard and giggled. Laughing at this point was dangerous.

She checked Pierce's bedroom window. It was open an inch. Oh, thank goodness. It was bigger than the bathroom window at Grandma Cotton's and closer to the ground. This would be a breeze. Ginny tossed her purse in first, aiming for the bed. It missed and slid to the floor. There was nothing breakable in it, so it was no big deal. Next, she threw in her grocery bag, which held the urn and ingredients for a fruit salad. It landed perfectly in the center of the bed. Ginny put one leg through the window and then the other and dropped to the floor. She ran into the bathroom.

She was washing her hands when she heard someone in the bedroom. In her haste, she hadn’t closed the bathroom door all the way. Pierce stood in the doorway, looking confused.

“Hi?”

“I, um, had to go and you weren’t here. I couldn't wait. The doors were locked, but the window was open.”  

Pierce laughed. Ginny laughed too. For a moment, they laughed together. In the same instant, they stopped laughing and stood there looking at each other. Ginny spoke first. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry? I thought I was the one who had something to be sorry for.”

Ginny reached out and touched his cheek. “I’m sorry I slapped you.”

He covered her hand. “I’m sorry I gave you a reason to slap me.”

“I should have given you a chance to explain first.”

“And then slapped me?”

“I was furious, and hurt, but what I did was wrong too---more wrong actually. From the beginning, my plan was to date a guy who would make Jason jealous so that he’d realize he was in love with me. That guy was going to be Steele because he seemed like someone who doesn't take dating seriously, but you switched on me, and I got to know you, and you weren’t like I first imagined you’d be. I fell for you. That’s why it hurt so much.”

“That first night, after you left mad, I wanted to ask you if we could forget about the whole one- time thing, and go out for real.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Afraid you’d say no, I guess.”

“And you called me a chicken?”

“Pathetic I know.”

Ginny moved into his arms. “I would have said yes.”

“You mean we could have avoided all the game playing stuff?”

“I liked the game.”

“Me too. Of course, we could play other games. Instead of husband and wife, I could be the boss, and you could be the secretary---”

“That is so cliché. Not to mention sexist.”

“Okay, scratch that. You can be the boss, and I’ll be your personal assistant. I’ll bring you coffee, shine your shoes, kiss your feet, and anything else you order me to kiss.”

“That’s better. Much better. Now kiss me damn it.”

He did. Once the kissing started, Ginny didn't want it to stop. Soon they were on the bed. Ginny felt something hard and round beneath her back but ignored it.   

It was impossible to ignore the sound of someone in the room a moment later, though she wanted to. She turned and saw Caleb standing beside the bed.

“Daddy says it’s dinnertime.”

Reluctantly, they both sat up. Ginny discovered that the lump she’d been lying on was a peach. She took it out of the sack and held it up. “Oops.”

Pierce laughed.

Caleb smacked Pierce on the leg. “Daddy says you cook."

“All right, I will, but I’m going to take a quick shower first.”

“Do you want to help me make fruit salad?” Ginny asked Caleb.

“Yes.” He put her tiny hand in hers, and they went upstairs together.

Steele was in the kitchen.

“Her is here again,” Caleb said.

“Yes, she is, and do you know what that means?”

Caleb shook his head.

“It means Uncle Pierce won’t be so grumpy.”

Caleb giggled. “Pierce grumpy.”

“He has been,” Steele said, smiling at Ginny.

She smiled back.

****

Charmaine held Princess in her lap all through dinner. The rat lay there listlessly emitting pathetic little growls when anyone came near. Pierce did feel sorry for the dog, though mostly he felt sympathy for Charmaine. After they'd finished eating, they gathered in the living room.

“Does anyone have a story about Princess they’d like to share?” David asked.

“I have one,” Steele said. “I took Princess outside once, on a cold, rainy day and she kept lifting her feet like she didn’t want to touch the wet grass. She took two steps away from the back door and peed next to the step. I knew then that she truly is a princess.”

Ginny giggled.

“Ginny and I have something for you.” Pierce handed the sack to Charmaine.

She pulled out the urn. An odd look crossed her face. Pierce thought it might be confusion. “It's an urn. For the ashes.”

Charmaine burst into tears. David took her in his arms and held her, making soothing noises. After a moment, Charmaine got control of herself and hugged Pierce and Ginny, assuring them that the urn was beautiful and thoughtful and perfect and she didn’t mean to cry, but it made it all real.

The evening ended with hugging and David clapping Pierce on the shoulder, saying “It was a nice gift.”

Finally, they were all gone, and Caleb was throwing a fit, something to do with wanting to play trucks in the pit and Steele saying no, it was bedtime, and Pierce took Ginny by the hand and led her downstairs to the relative quiet of his sitting room.

“You think my family is crazy, don’t you?”

“Yes.” Ginny wrapped her arms around him. “They’re every bit as crazy as mine, and that’s saying something.”

“Yes, it is.” He kissed her. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too. Should we play a game tonight? The one where I'm the boss maybe?”

“Can we just be us tonight?”

“Yes. That sounds nice. Real nice.”

****

“Ginny, that’s your phone.”                                       

Ginny opened her eyes. Waking up in Pierce’s bed to the sound of her phone ringing brought on a feeling of déjà vu. No wedding today meant there was no reason for urgent phone calls. Whatever it was could wait. She snuggled closer to Pierce. Her phone went quiet.

Pierce’s hand found its way under the borrowed T-shirt. 

“Last night was amazing.” Ginny adjusted her position to give him better access to her breasts and any other place he might want to touch. “I think we should do this every day.”

“Every day not every other day?” He asked, with a little smile.

“Yes.”

Ginny’s phone rang again. She groaned. “Make it stop.”

Pierce reached over her and picked up the phone. “It's your mom.”

Ginny sighed and took the phone. “Hello?”

“Your dad was in an accident.”

Ginny shot upright. “What? Is he okay?”

“I don't know anything yet. Bryn called 911. She and Virginia are at the hospital already, and I'm on my way there now.”

“I’m on my way, too.” Ginny jumped out of bed and started pulling on her clothes. “My dad, accident, hospital.”

“I’ll drive,” Pierce said.

There wasn’t much traffic. Pierce got them to the hospital in record time. Ginny called Bryn and got directions to the waiting room where she found Grandma Cotton, Janelle, and Bryn, all standing rather than sitting.

“Oh no, not Chuck Norris,” Janelle said.

Ginny followed her gaze, expecting to see the actor standing in the room with them, but saw only Pierce. The shirt he’d hastily pulled on was the one with Chuck Norris on it.

“Sorry,” Pierce said, looking at his shirt as if it, or he, was to blame for the accident.

“It’s just like my dream. He crashed on that damned motorcycle,” Janelle said. “I knew this was going to happen. Didn’t I say it?”

“He didn’t crash, he fell over,” Bryn said. “He didn’t even get out of the driveway.”

“Thank goodness he wasn’t on the highway,” Janelle said.

“The man has always had terrible balance,” Grandma Cotton said. “He didn’t learn how to ride a bike until he was nine and he never was good at it.”

“If all he did was fall over in the driveway he can’t be hurt too badly can he?” Ginny asked.

“He said he couldn't see,” Bryn said. “He said everything went blurry and he couldn't move his left arm. He must have broken it, and hit his head hard.”

“He was wearing a helmet wasn’t he?” Pierce asked.

“Yes,” Bryn said. “I called 911 immediately. I can't believe how long it took them to get here.”

“I thought they were pretty fast,” Grandma Cotton said, “considering we're five miles from the highway. It took much longer when I called them for Ernie. Of course, it was already too late when they arrived.”

Ginny put her arm around her grandmother.

The door opened, and a doctor came in. He was an older gentleman with a deeply lined face and white hair that was in sharp contrast to his tanned skin. Ginny wondered if he spent too much time on the golf course. Wasn’t he worried about skin cancer? How could she be thinking about such unimportant things at a time like this? She should focus on what the doctor was saying. Stroke—he said the word stroke. Her dad hadn't fallen over due to poor balance. He'd had a stroke. A stroke like Grandpa Ernie had. Her legs turned to marshmallow. No, the doctor had said a mini-stroke, which was different from what happened to Grandpa Ernie.

“What does that mean? Mini-stroke?” Ginny asked.

“It means he's lucky. There won't be any lasting damage to his brain. His eyesight is already returning to normal, and the numbness in his arm is wearing off. It could have been much worse. I'm going to recommend medication, exercise, and dietary changes.”

“No more BLTs,” Ginny said, realizing a second too late that she probably shouldn't have said this out loud.

“Haven’t I been saying that all along?” Janelle sent an accusing look at Grandma Cotton, who glared defiantly back.

“You have,” Ginny said. “But sometimes, Mom, being kind is more important than being right.”

Janelle opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Afraid she’d hurt her mom’s feelings, Ginny started to apologize, but Janelle was already walking out of the room. Ginny followed her. Bryn and Virginia were close behind as they made their way into Walt’s room.

Her father looked old lying in the hospital bed. He quickly sat up. “I'm fine. No croaking frogs. No need for all this fuss.”

Janelle reached him first. Ginny thought her mom was about to go into lecture mode. Instead, she put her arms around him. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

For a second or two Walt's body remained stiff. And then he was holding his wife. They held onto each other for a long time. When they finally separated, they both had tears in their eyes. Something had changed between them. Ginny could feel it. She didn't know if it was a major change, or a minor one, temporary or permanent.   

(Next week is the conclusion of Playing House!)

Read Chapter One Here:

Read Chapter Sixteen Here:

David, Charmaine, and Princess showed up at dinnertime with enough Chinese takeout for ten people. Steele would appreciate it when he got home.

“What happened to your head?” David asked, eyeing the bandage.

“I tripped and hit the corner of an end table,” Pierce said.

“Drunk, I suppose.”

Pierce felt every muscle tense up. “Wrong. I was sober.”  

“Don't even think about arguing, you two,” Charmaine said. “You're upsetting Princess, and that's the last thing she needs right now. She's been a bit under the weather. Besides, we're here for a reason. And we need to eat this food before it gets cold. Where's your friend?”

“He’s Ginny's friend, and he's downstairs watching TV. Staring at the television, anyway. He doesn't want to eat and hasn't said more than a few words since he got here.”

Charmaine made soothing noises at the dog. “Princess and I are going to invite your friend to eat with us.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? Having the rat yip at him could make any guy want to jump off a—” seeing the look on his dad’s face, Pierce didn’t finish. “Sorry, I know it’s nothing to joke about.”

“Humor can be useful in stressful situations,” David said with a serious expression. “It helps to ease the tension.”

It figured that his father could turn a bad joke into therapy.

“What’s Ginny’s friend’s name?” David asked, after a moment.

“Jason.” Pierce had explained the situation on the phone earlier.

“Why do you think he was on that cliff?” David asked.

“I don't know.” Pierce took four plates out of the cupboard. The smell of food had made him realize he was hungry. “I don't really know the guy.”

“What’s your first instinct?”

Pierce felt sure that if he spoke his thoughts out loud, they'd end up being wrong. He went ahead with it anyway. “He's gay, and in denial.”

David stroked his beard. Pierce knew that look. David hadn't even met his patient yet, and the wheels were already turning. When he was ten or eleven Pierce had overheard his father telling a relative that people are not, as had been suggested, like puzzles. The mind is far more complicated than that. Even if you can find all the pieces, and put them together correctly, they'll never match the picture on the box. Pierce hadn’t understood what his dad meant, which he guessed was why he'd always remembered it. When he was a teenager, he'd decided that it had partly been his dad's ego talking that day. David Vaughn didn't want anyone thinking that what he did was less than brilliant.

Charmaine came back upstairs with Jason. The poor guy hadn't had a chance against Charmaine and Princess. The four of them sat down at the table as if it were a social visit. David and Charmaine did most of the talking. Charmaine got Jason to smile, by saying that Princess didn't hate him, like she did every other man on the planet, including David.

After dinner, Pierce asked Charmaine to go with him to get Jason’s car. This would leave David alone with Jason.

“I’m sure your dad will help your friend,” Charmaine said when they were in the car.

“He’s Ginny’s friend and how can you be sure? He’s not God, just a psychiatrist.”

Charmaine sighed deeply. “You’re not that different from your father, you know. You’re both stubborn when you think you’re right and you’re both always sure that you’re right.”

“Don't try to analyze me. I get enough of that from Dad and Steele.” Seeing the look on her face, he immediately apologized. “I'm sorry. It's been a bad day.”

“I’m sure.”

“There’s more to it than Jason and the cliff.” Pierce found himself spilling his guts, telling Charmaine about the bet. He ended with, “I’m afraid Ginny will never talk to me again.”

“I can't say I'd blame her. If I were Ginny, I'd have kicked you in the nuts.”

Pierce rubbed his cheek, thinking that this day could have been much worse. “I never intended to hurt Ginny.”

“It must have been humiliating for her, especially finding out that other people knew.”

“No one was supposed to know. Do you think if I explained that to her, she'd forgive me?”

Charmaine reached over and patted his knee. “No, probably not.”

So much for getting comforting, motherly advice. Princess gathered enough energy to nip at him. He figured he deserved it.

****

Unable to get a response from Jason, Ginny had been forced to go through Pierce. It was after eight o’clock in the evening when Pierce called to say that his father had left, but Jason was still there. She informed him that she was coming over, and didn’t wait for him to reply.

When she got there, Steele answered the door.

“Ginny, hi.”

She glared at him. “I’m here to see Jason.”

He didn’t move aside. “I owe you an apology.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, waiting.

“The whole bet thing was my idea. Pierce didn’t want anything to do with it. He wouldn't take the money.”

“So, he's less of a jerk than you are? Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“He's crazy about you, Ginny.”

Ginny refused to be swayed. “Where’s Jason?”

“Upstairs. We were about to drive him home. He says he hasn’t slept in days and he’s not in any condition to drive himself.”

Ginny climbed the stairs. She found Jason and Pierce in the kitchen. Jason was holding his jacket over one arm. His white shirt was un-tucked, and he'd dribbled some liquid down the front. His pant legs were dirty, his face pale and there were shadows beneath his eyes.

Without so much as a glance at Pierce, Ginny gave Jason a quick hard hug. “I'm taking you home.”

“What about my car?” Jason asked.

“I’ll drive your car over if someone gives me a ride home,” Pierce said.

Ginny guessed he meant for her to be that someone. “Don't look at me. I’m not taking you anywhere.”

“You know, you’re not the only one with a reason to be mad. You hauled off and hit me without even asking for an explanation.”

“The evidence is right there in plain sight.” She pointed to the magnetic letters that spelled BET.

Pierce swiped his hand across the refrigerator door, skewing the letters. “I didn't even know you then. It's not what this was about, and you know it.”

Ginny wanted to believe him, but how could she be sure? She took hold of Jason’s arm and dragged him out of the house.

“What was that about?” Jason asked when they were outside.

“Nothing.” Ginny got into the car, started the engine and tore out of the driveway while Jason was still doing up his seatbelt.

“I guess this isn’t a good time for me to tell you that I like Pierce.”

“No.” Ginny pressed on the gas pedal.

“Ginny, that was a stop sign,” Jason said, a moment later.

“What?”

“A stop sign. You blew through it.”

“Oh. Sorry.” She slowed down and took a deep breath. She should be focusing on Jason now. “Did you talk to Dr. Vaughn?”

“Yes.”

“Did it help?”

“I don't know yet.” Jason leaned back and closed his eyes. “I’m going to meet with him again when he can find a time to squeeze me in. He did give me something to help me sleep tonight. It’s been days. Even last night—you’d think the alcohol would have done the trick, but it didn’t. My mind wouldn't shut down. It still won’t. I need to talk to Bryn and my mom.”

“Tomorrow, after you’ve slept, then you can start dealing with---”

“---the aftermath of my implosion?”

“Yeah, that.”

After a moment, Jason asked how his mother had seemed.

“Worried, like everyone else. I told her that you were talking to a professional and she didn’t find that very comforting.”

“She doesn't trust those people. I know I should call her, but she'll want to send our pastor over, and I can't talk to him either.”

“I’ll call her and let her know you’re home. I’ll say you’re sleeping.”

“Thank you.”

When they got to Jason’s house, Peter was sitting in the living room watching television and reading a health magazine. He lowered the magazine. “What’s going on?”

“I didn’t get married today.”

“Oh.” He seemed to be waiting for more of an explanation. When none came, he shrugged and went back to reading.

While Jason was in the bathroom getting ready for bed, Ginny sat on his bed to call Evelyn. She kept it brief and didn’t even feel guilty for the lie. Jason came in dressed in pajamas.

“I told your mom that you’re home but the doctor gave you something to sleep, and it knocked you out and you’ll call her tomorrow.”

“Thank you.” He got into bed and pulled up the blanket.

Ginny lay down beside him, on top of the blanket. “I’m not leaving until you’re asleep.”

He nodded. “Can you turn out the light?”

Ginny reached over and turned off the lamp.

“I talked to Dr. Vaughn for a couple of hours. I told him things I’ve never told anyone else.”

“It must have felt good to get it all out.”

“You'd think so, but right now I feel like my skull is broken open, the contents of my brain spread out for someone else to try and make sense of. It's kind of terrifying. I feel like there's no going back. Everything has changed, and it's going to keep changing, and in the long run, this will be a good thing, but it's going to take awhile to get there. Does that make sense?”

“Yes. I feel a little like that too, the no going back part, I mean. I wish I could go back to before I met Pierce. Even with the good parts, it isn’t worth feeling this way. It isn’t.”

“What was this bet about?”

“I shouldn’t be telling you my problems. I should be listening to you.”

“You always listen to me. It’s your turn. Tell me what happened.”

Ginny sighed. “Bryn and her friends know about it, why not you, too?”

Jason waited silently.

“You know—or maybe you don't know, we've never actually discussed it—but I'd never been with anyone, partly because of the whole anxiety thing and, and other reasons. I decided it was time, because…” Ginny let out a deep breath. “To be honest, I've been envious of you and Bryn. I wanted someone too. Nothing went smoothly with Pierce. Sometimes we clashed, and other times it felt like it was turning into something real and wonderful, and last night it finally happened and that sure felt real. Then today Bryn told me that Tanner told her that Pierce and his brother had a bet about me, that he couldn't, you know, which he did, so he won.”

“Damn.”

“Yes. Exactly.”

“It was a lousy thing to do.”

“Unforgivable.”

After a minute Jason said, “It did sound like he was sorry and he regretted it.”

“Don't tell me you think I should forgive him?”

“I'm not exactly in a position to be giving life advice. I'm a mess, in case you haven't noticed.”

“I shouldn't be laying all this on you, not now. You should try to sleep.”

For a long while, they were quiet. The sun finished its descent, and the room grew dark. Ginny realized how tired she was, mentally and physically drained. Just when she was sure that Jason was drifting off to sleep, he started talking, his voice softer than usual.

“I was seven when my brother died. They said it was SIDS, no one's fault or anything. I was too young to understand that of course. I remember that my mom started sleeping on the twin bed in his room, which was right next to my room. Some nights my dad would go in there, and they'd have terrible fights. At first, all I understood was that he wanted something and she refused to give it to him. Sometimes he'd give up and go back to his own room. Other nights she'd give in. The worst nights were when she didn't give in, and he didn't give up. He took what he wanted. I'd hear her crying afterward, sometimes for hours. In the morning, she’d have bruises.”

“Oh Jason, that’s horrible.”

“The next day my mom and I would pray together. We’d pray for the demons that got into him to leave forever. Not until I was in middle school did I think about the demons having names like Jack and Jim.”

“Whiskey?”

“He was always drunk when he abused us.”

“He hurt you too?” She felt sick at the thought.

“Mostly it was verbal, calling me a momma's boy for wanting to protect my mother. Sometimes he'd knock me around. He said it was to toughen me up, and if I cried he'd call me a sissy. I was terrified of him. I used to beg my mom to leave him. Her answer was always to pray about it. We'd pray for him to treat us right. When we'd pray, she'd make me promise things. That I'd never drink, never hurt a woman, and never be like him. When things were at their worst, I used to pray for my dad to die. Then when he got sick…”

“You blamed yourself.”

“I knew it was the booze that killed him, but on another level, I wasn’t so sure. I spent a lot of time at church, praying to be forgiven.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“There were other things too, that I needed to be forgiven for. Church was my safe place. I've always found comfort in rules. Sex outside of marriage is immoral, so I didn't do it—that simple. I buried my sexual side pretty deep. It turns out, that's not healthy.”

“No.” Ginny was crying now, crying for the little boy he’d been, and the damaged man he’d become.

She put her arms around him, and for a few minutes, they cried together.

“There’s more, Ginny.”

The words were so soft she barely heard him. Sleep was bearing down on him, and that was a good thing.

“It can wait until tomorrow.” Ginny turned onto her side and closed her eyes.

****

Sunday morning arrived with a glorious pink sunrise. Pierce would have preferred to sleep through the sunrise, but he'd woken up after only a few hours, and knew that he was done sleeping for the night. He drank one cup of coffee after another, while mentally composing more than a dozen different apologies to Ginny, all of which sucked.

He didn’t know how long he’d been up when Steele joined him.

“Jason's car is still here, and I have his keys. If you want to follow me over there, I'll drop it off.”

“Yeah, all right,” Steele said.

When Pierce pulled up in front of Jason's house, he took the only parking spot left on the block. It was right in front of Ginny’s car. She’d spent the night here. The sick feeling in his gut wasn’t just from too much coffee.

He got out of the car.

“Is that Ginny’s car?” Steele asked through the driver’s side window.

“Yeah.”

Steele started to say something, shook his head, and started again, “I think I see a parking spot on the next block.”

“I’ll find you,” Pierce said.

He walked to the front door. What if he’d gotten it all wrong and Ginny was the reason that Jason hadn't wanted to marry Bryn? What if Jason was in love with Ginny? He should drop the keys on the mat, turn around and leave right now. There was no sense in talking to her, seeing the guilt on her face. If Ginny loved Jason, he'd only be making a fool of himself. He should turn around and go.

But he didn’t. He stood glued to the spot, staring at the front door. Idiot, he’d been such an idiot.

Pierce didn’t realize that there was someone behind him until she spoke.

“Ginny’s here?” Bryn said.

“Yep.”

“And they’re not answering the door?”

“I haven’t knocked.”

Bryn reached her hand under the front step and pulled out a key. “We’ll surprise them, won’t we?”

He noticed that her hand shook as she inserted the key into the lock and opened the door. There was no one in the living room. Pierce followed Bryn to a closed bedroom door.

Bryn shoved open the door and stormed in. “Wake up.”

Ginny sat up quickly. She was fully dressed, her hair a tangled mess, her eyes puffy, expression confused. She blinked. “Why are you here?”

“Why am I here? Why are you here?” Bryn said. “No, don't answer. I know why. It’s only obvious. You think you’re the only one virtuous enough for Jason. You want him for yourself, you always have.”

Ginny jumped off the bed and flew at her sister. “You knew that I was in love with Jason and you still went for him? How could you do that to me?”

Guilt flickered in Bryn’s eyes. “If Jason had wanted you, you’d have been together a long time ago.”

“And if he’d wanted you, he’d have shown up yesterday.”

“Oh, he wanted me all right. Tell them, Jason. Tell them how you couldn't wait even one more day, how you begged for it.”

“Stop!” Jason stood beside the bed, his hands on the sides of his head as if he intended to pull his hair out. “Just stop. Please. Both of you.”

The other bedroom door opened and Jason’s roommate appeared, wearing only white briefs.

“What the fuck is all the yelling about?”

For a few seconds, no one moved or made a sound.

“Sorry, Peter,” Jason said.

Peter turned and went back to his room.

Ginny shot Pierce a look so loaded with emotion it might as well have been a slap---and stormed right past him.

“Talk to me,” Bryn said to Jason. “I deserve an explanation.”

Pierce followed Ginny out. He didn’t try to catch up with her. He’d seen what he needed to see. If Ginny didn’t care about him, she wouldn't have looked so damned hurt. He had to find a way to fix this.  

****

Ginny walked around her neighborhood all afternoon, looking at everything and seeing nothing, her thoughts spinning. She went through her two favorite clothing stores, flipping through the racks with no intention of buying anything, before settling down on a hard stool in the self- help section of the bookstore.

She’d admitted it in front of Jason, admitted being in love with him. It felt strange to have that out in the open after all these years. And Bryn, she’d known how Ginny felt about Jason, known it all along. Bryn’s words were stuck in Ginny’s mind. You thought you were the only one virtuous enough for Jason.

Was it true? She'd always assumed Jason would want it to be his bride's first time too. Naturally, he'd want to explore the physical side of love together. But was Jason the only reason Ginny had waited? Or had she just been terrified of ever feeling the way she did right now?

As she skimmed a book about overcoming anxiety, one sentence stood out from the rest. Ginny slowed down, absorbing the words, until it finally sunk in. All of her problems could be summed up with one word. Fear. She’d let it rule her life.

How could she ever be truly happy if she couldn't change this one thing? She had to start working on herself. Right now. Ginny put the book back on the shelf and stood up. She took two steps before changing her mind and pulling the book back out. There were others here that might be helpful too. Without checking the prices, Ginny carried three books to the checkout.

On the walk home her phone rang. Jason. Ginny wasn’t ready to talk to him. She let it ring. Almost immediately, she received a text.

I’m so sorry Ginny if I hurt you. I didn’t realize—no, that's not true. On one level I knew you had romantic feelings for me, but I kept the knowledge buried, along with all the other things I didn't know how to deal with. I couldn't risk losing you. I needed you too much. You’re my lifeline, always have been.

Damn him. She didn’t want to be anyone’s lifeline, didn’t want the responsibility. Seething more with every step, she walked faster. Jason had known that she loved him. Buried or not, he’d known it, and he’d kept right on acting as if it weren’t true. She had every right to be angry with him.

A few blocks from home, barely aware of her surroundings, she started texting. Two girls were playing hopscotch on the sidewalk. Ginny stepped off the sidewalk to avoid their game. Her shin collided with something hard. A fire hydrant.  

“You shouldn't walk, and text,” one of the girls said.

The other one giggled.

Her shin hurt like hell. Ginny refused to rub it or limp in front of the girls. She picked up the pace. When she got to her house, she sat on the porch to finish her text. Don’t worry about me. I’m over you, I promise.

She hit send and then examined her shin. It was red, and a little piece of skin had come off, but it didn't look nearly as bad as it felt.

It turned out to be a beautiful day. This was the weather they should have had yesterday, for the wedding that hadn’t happened.

Ginny opened the first book and set out to change her life.

While she read, she kept her phone on her lap, expecting it to ring. A phone call from her mother, or grandma wanting to know if she would be coming over today to do her laundry or have dinner, would be nice though she had no intention of going either place today. Laundry could wait. Or maybe Pierce would call to apologize properly and beg her to forgive him. Not that she would, but it would be nice if he tried.

After reading a chapter, she checked her phone to be sure it was working. It appeared to be. So why hadn't Jason responded? Maybe he didn't think that it required a response.

What was he doing? She imagined him standing on that cliff. What had been going through his mind? What was he thinking right now? Where was the anger she’d felt earlier? She tried conjuring it up, but it was gone. Ginny carried her books upstairs. It was dinnertime. She opened the cupboards, stared at the contents, and closed them again. She picked up her phone, and called Jason.

He answered right away, not bothering with hello, just talking as if he’d been waiting for her to call since he’d received her text.

“I’m sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen.”

“I know.”

“I kept telling myself that once Bryn and I were married everything would be fine, and I would feel the way I was supposed to feel. I finally realized I couldn't go through with it. Now Bryn hates me.”

“I’m sure she doesn't hate you.”

“No, she does. Those were her exact words. She hates me. Because of what happened the night before, she thinks that all I wanted from her was sex.”

“She’s stupid if she thinks that.”

Jason didn’t answer.

“Jason?”

“I kept telling myself that I was waiting for marriage, but that wasn’t the real reason. I didn’t know if I could do it.”

“It?”

“Have sex with a woman.”

Ginny sucked in a breath. It took a few seconds for his words to sink in. Of course, the “other Jason” was a gay man. Hadn't she known that ever since he'd told her about his alter ego? “So, did you do it?”

“Sort of. I wasn't exactly successful, but I think Bryn was too drunk to notice. I used her, and that was wrong.”

“Yes. That was wrong.”

“I didn’t start out to deceive her. When we were together, I felt different, like I could be someone different. I wanted to be the person Bryn thought I was.”

“You can’t take all the blame, Jason. Bryn wasn’t honest with you either. She didn’t even tell you about losing her job, did she?”

“She lost her job?”

“Fired. She didn't want you to know.”

“That doesn't make me feel better. I was an idiot for thinking we could make it work. I don't want to be this other person, Ginny.”

“I don't think you have a choice. Pretending and hiding from everything that scares you doesn't work. I know. You're just going to have to face it and deal with it head-on.”

“You make it sound simple.”

“It is simple. Not easy, of course, but simple and necessary. You have to get tougher, we both do.”

“Tougher? That’s what my dad thought. He tried to beat it out of me.”

“I didn’t mean that kind of tough.”

“My mom tried to pray it away and Pastor John, he tried too. I had counseling sessions with him when I was a teenager. He thought he could change me. I wanted so badly for it to work that I convinced myself I was better.”

“When are you going to see Dr. Vaughn again?”

“He’s going to fit me in sometime this week.”

“Good. That’s great.”

“We’ll see.”

For a long moment, they were silent.

“I’m going to hang up now,” Jason said. “I need to stop thinking about all this and do nothing for a while.”

“Do you need me to come over?”

“No.”

“Are you sure? I’ll come over right now.”

“No, you don't have to do that. I’m alright. Really.”

“Okay. Call if you need me.”

As she set down the phone, it occurred to Ginny that the pattern never changed. Always it had been Jason who needed, and she who provided. She'd been the one who listened, the one he leaned on. She'd been so busy giving, had worked so hard to be the person he needed her to be, that she'd never considered what she'd needed from him, never asked for anything in return, only kept on hoping that eventually, he'd give back.

Ginny thought of her parents. It had always seemed like her mother was the one trying to improve their marriage. She used to read books about relationships, and plan once a month date nights that Walt would usually find an excuse to get out of. She’d done the pursuing while Walt had retreated. A man couldn't retreat any farther than his mother’s kitchen, could he? No wonder her mom had given up. Relationships were just too hard.

 ****

On Tuesday afternoon, Ginny received a text from Pierce. My dad has an appointment available today for Jason, but he’s not answering his phone. Any ideas?

She'd talked to Jason the night before, and he'd seemed all right, sort of. Her first instinct was to leave work right away to check on him. Unfortunately, she had clients coming in half an hour to sign papers on an upscale condo. Postponing wasn't an option. Asking her boss to take over for her was a last resort, something she’d only do in an emergency. Did this qualify? She hoped not.

Jason might not be at home. He might not have his phone on. He was supposed to be off this week. What if he'd decided to go to work instead? It seemed like a long shot, considering his state of mind. Who would know? Ginny sent Hank a text. He responded within minutes. No, Jason was not at work. She asked him for Peter's number and then sent Peter a text asking if Jason had been there when he left for work. Five long minutes passed before she got his response. Yes, Jason had been at home this morning.

Was he still home? Maybe he'd gone to see his mom. This seemed unlikely. Maybe his phone had died, and he hadn't bothered to charge it. Maybe he didn't want to talk to anyone. These things seemed most likely. But what if he'd gone in search of a higher cliff?

Should she drop everything and go over there right now? She’d have to take the bus. No way would she get there and back in time for the signing. What if she was worrying for nothing and he was fine? What would she tell her boss? Sorry, false alarm? She’d have to find someone else to check on him. Who was close and could leave work easily?

Pierce. Instead of texting, she dialed his number. He answered immediately.

“Jason’s not answering me either. I’d go over there, but I can’t leave work right now. Is there any chance that you can check on him?”

“Sure.”

The answer came so fast it took her by surprise. “You will?”

“I’ll go over there now and let you know as soon as I know.”

“Thank you.” 

****

Jason’s car was parked in front of his house. Pierce rang the doorbell a couple of times. When there was no response, he knocked. Still nothing. Pierce remembered the key that Bryn had used. He reached under the porch step. After a minute or two of fumbling around, he found it and let himself in. He went straight to Jason’s room, pounded on the door and heard a muffled groan. He opened the door.

Jason was in bed, covered with a sheet. He pulled out his earplugs. “Why are you in my room again?”

“You weren’t answering the door.”

“I was sleeping.”

Jason’s phone was on the nightstand. The cord was plugged into a nearby socket, but the other end was an inch away from the phone. Pierce walked over and picked it up. It was, indeed, dead. He plugged it in. “If you don’t want people barging into your house to check on you, you should keep this charged, and answer it when it rings.”

“Maybe I don't want to talk to anyone.”

“Yeah well, people want to talk to you. Ginny’s worried. My dad is too. He can squeeze you in today at four o’clock.” Pierce walked over to the window and drew open the curtains letting in the bright sunlight. “I’m here to make sure you go.”

Jason groaned and covered his face with his arm. “I can’t.”

“I don’t need to be a psychiatrist to know you’re feeling sorry for yourself.” Pierce sat down on the end of the bed. “I can relate. My life pretty much sucks right now too, but at least I got out of bed and took a shower and went to work and shit.”

“I’m sure your life doesn't suck nearly as much as mine does,” Jason said. “Everyone hates me.”

“Ginny doesn't.”

“She’s the only one.”

“I’d be happy to trade you places. I could deal with everyone else hating me if Ginny loved me.” He hadn’t meant to say the L word, but there it was. 

Jason sat up, rubbed a hand over his eyes. “You do care about her?”

“I'm here, aren't I? She had clients and couldn't leave, so she sent me to check on you. If something happened to you, she'd fall apart. She loves you.”

“She’s over me. She loves you.”

“Did she say that?”

“Not in those words, but I know she does.”

Pierce had suspected this was true but liked having Jason confirm it. He sat on the edge of the bed, took out his phone and sent Ginny a text: Jason’s okay. “So what do you think I should do? Should I show up at her door with roses?”

“That won't work with Ginny. She needs to know you’re serious and not playing games.”

“How do I tell her that? I mean so she’ll believe me?”

Jason shrugged. “I don't know.”

“That’s not helpful.” Pierce’s phone buzzed. Ginny had responded to his text with a smiley face. It seemed like a good sign. “I’m sending my dad a text to let him know you’ll be there at four o’clock.”

Jason nodded. “I guess I should thank you. Not just for this. For Saturday and your dad and everything.”

“If you feel like paying me back, you could put in a good word for me with Ginny.”

“I can do that,” Jason said.

****

On Thursday evening, Ginny had Jason over for dinner. On the phone, he’d said that he was feeling a little better after the second talk with Dr. Vaughn. He looked a bit better, but still too thin.

“Are you getting closer to understanding the other Jason?”

“A little. He’s complicated.”

“I wouldn't have expected anything less from you.” Ginny waited, thinking he'd say more. When he didn't, she asked, “How is your mom doing?”

“Dying again. It’s all my fault of course.”

“She’s not in the hospital is she?”

“No, this time it’s her soul that’s been crushed by my doubts about God and my unwillingness to get married and provide her with grandchildren. I told her I couldn't marry Bryn. I didn’t tell her that I can’t marry any woman, but she knows the truth, just as my dad did. She knows, but she’ll never accept it.”

“So what are you going to do?”

Jason sighed. “The only thing that will work with my mom is, Don’t ask, don’t tell. We’ll go on pretending because the alternative is worse.”

It didn’t seem right, wasn’t right, but Ginny knew he couldn't cut all ties with his mother. That really would kill her. “I’m sorry Jason.”

He nodded.

She handed him a plate with a large helping of stir-fry, and they sat down at the table to eat.

“I talked to Peter last night. He told me his story, how his dad rejected him, but his mom was great. He’s going back to San Francisco in another month. I’m thinking about transferring there, too.”

“And leave all your friends?”

“It would be a chance to start fresh, where no one knows me. In a new city, I can be myself if I can figure out who that is.”

“I don't know, Jason. It would be hard, especially at first. You’d get lonely.”

“Come with me, then.” Jason perked up. “We could be roommates. Think about it Ginny. We could try out a new city together. It would be fun.”

“It kind of does sound fun, but I like Portland, and I wouldn't want to be so far from my family, especially not now with my parents having problems. It might be a good idea for you, but don't rush into anything.”

“My lease is up in September. Is that enough time for me to think about it?”  

“Maybe.”

After a moment Jason said, “You knew all along that it wouldn't work out with Bryn and me. What made you think that?”

“At first I thought it was kind of like you and Bryn were pretending. You both wanted to get married, I got that, but I didn’t think that you knew each other well enough for it to work. It seemed like you were different together, not your real selves. Does that make sense?”

Jason nodded. 

“There are no shortcuts. I know because that's what I tried to do with Pierce, hurry things along. I thought I knew him. I didn't. I was stupid.”

“I don't think you were stupid. Pierce cares about you, Ginny.”

“You think so?”

“I know he does. We talked.”

Ginny wasn’t sure how she felt about the two of them talking about her. “You don't think he was using me to win a bet?”

“No. Do you? For real?”

Ginny had thought about this a lot. “He said he was sorry. I know he meant it. I’m just afraid that everyone will think I’m an idiot if I forgive him.”

“You should do what feels right and not worry about what other people think.”

“So easy to say, so hard to do.”

“Tell me about it.”

(Happy New Year!)

Read Chapter One Here:

Read Chapter Fifteen Here:

Ginny awakened to her phone ringing. She picked it up off Pierce’s nightstand and saw that it was her mom. “Hello?”

“I need you to stop on the way over and pick up some yellow mustard.”

“Yellow mustard?”

“We need it for the meat and cheese tray.”

“But that’s finger food. Why do we need condiments?”

“In case someone wants to combine the meat and cheese with the mini slices of bread and make a sandwich.”

Ginny knew that tone of voice. Trying to talk reason to her mother now would be futile. “Okay.”

“And toilet paper. Your grandmother insists that we have plenty, but there are going to be a lot of people here and the last thing we want is to run out of—”

“Okay, Mom. I’ll get it.”

“The good kind, not the soft stuff that comes apart.”

“Got it.”

“What time are you going to get here?”

Go home, shower, stop at the store, drive over to Jason’s house and demand to know who this “other Jason” was and try to stop the wedding.

“I don't know, a couple of hours.”

“Hurry, we could use your help here.”

“Okay.” Ginny set the phone down. She felt Pierce’s hand on her shoulder and rolled over to face him.

His eyes were open but still sleepy. “Hey.”

“Hi. How’s your head?”

“The pain is unbearable. I don’t think I can get out of bed. You’re going to have to stay here and take care of me all day.”

Ginny smiled. “I wish I could skip the wedding, and spend the whole day with you, but my mother will hunt me down if I don't bring the mustard.”

“Mustard?”

“And toilet paper.”

Ginny’s phone rang.

“You don't have to answer.”

“Any other day and I’d ignore it.” Ginny rolled over and picked up her phone. It was Bryn.

“I took my engagement ring off to go in the hot tub last night, and I forgot it. It's in the bathroom at Pierce's house. You have to drive over there and get it for me.”

Annoyed at Bryn's demanding tone, Ginny started to ask her what she'd been doing in the hot tub in the first place, but thought better of it. This was her sister's wedding day, and she was not going to do anything to mess it up; except, possibly, talk the groom out of saying I do. “I’ll bring it. So how are you two feeling this morning? You both had a lot to drink.”

“I’m okay, better than Jason is anyway. I’m on my way to Grandma’s now to get ready. Jason begged me to let him sleep for another hour or two, poor guy.”

This was good news. It gave Ginny time to talk to Jason before the wedding.

Ginny ended the call and turned to Pierce, “I have to go.”

“I’ll see you at your parent’s house then.”

“Yes.” She didn’t add that if she had it her way, there wouldn't be a wedding.

****

“Ginny spent the night,” Steele said.

It wasn’t a question, so Pierce didn’t bother with an answer. He poured a cup of coffee to go with his cereal—the kind with mini marshmallows—and sat down at the table.

“How’s your head?”

“Fine.”

“Stitches?”

“A few. Tanner is an asshole, you know that right?”

“Yeah, but, you should know, Bryn only moved Tanner’s hand when you were watching. She was probably afraid you'd tell Ginny. When they were in the hot tub, she was flirting and teasing him.”

“She said no, that’s all I needed to hear.”

“Fair enough. Anyway, I’m done with him.”

“Good.”

Steele nodded toward the fifty dollar bill on the refrigerator. “So?”

“You lost.” Pierce took the bill that Steele had won from him off the refrigerator, leaving behind the letters that spelled BET.

“I guess that means I owe you,” Steele said.

“No way am I taking your money.”

Steele grinned. “Works for me.” 

****

When she got to the Cotton farm carrying toilet paper, mustard, and toothpicks, as well as her dress, Ginny looked for Jason's car. It wasn't there. She'd gone home first to shower, and by the time she'd gotten to Jason's place, he'd already left. He should be here by now. He must have stopped somewhere along the way.

Ginny had been rethinking her plan all the way here. Trying to talk the groom out of getting married hours before the wedding was probably a bad idea, especially since the bride was her sister. It would be better if Bryn called off the wedding. But what exactly should she say to Bryn? How could Ginny explain that Jason was confused about some part of himself, but Ginny didn't know exactly what the problem was, or what it might mean to Bryn and her future with Jason?

With a twenty-four- pack of toilet paper under one arm, Ginny started across the lawn toward the house. Halfway there, she came across her dad, who was staring up at the clouds.

“It's going to rain. The big question is, when?”

“Maybe it’ll hold off until after the wedding,” Ginny said, without a shred of conviction.

“Maybe,” Walt said, with an equal amount of doubt.

It hit her that he looked different. “You shaved off your beard and got a haircut. No, tell me, you didn’t--”

Walt turned around. His ponytail was gone.

“You did. I don't believe it. After all these years. It was Bryn’s idea, wasn’t it?”

“No, it was my idea.”

“But Dad, you’ve had long hair for twenty years.”

“Thirty-one. I decided it was time for a change.”

Ginny had liked his hair long. It had been a part of him for so long. But the new cut did look nice, and she told him so. 

Next, Ginny brought the items to her mother, who told her that Bryn was in the guest bedroom getting ready. Ginny found her sister sitting on the bed, wearing sweats and a T-shirt, last night’s makeup smeared under her eyes. She held a large coffee mug with the words I Hate Mornings on it.

“Do you have it?”

Ginny hung her dress in the closet, dropped her bag on the bed and took the engagement ring out of her pocket. She dropped it into Bryn’s hand. “I can’t believe you left this at Pierce’s house. Didn’t Jason notice that you weren’t wearing it?”

“No, Jason had other things on his mind last night. In case you didn’t notice, he’s very ready to be married.”

Ginny sighed heavily. She sat on the edge of the bed. “It may have seemed that way, but you should know, he’s having doubts.”

“Doubts? What are you talking about?”

Ginny took a deep breath. “Last night Jason admitted that he wasn’t sure if he was making the right decision.”

“So he’s got pre-wedding jitters? Who doesn't?”

“It wasn’t the first time he’s expressed doubts.”

“And yet you waited until this moment to tell me?”

“Uh…”

“I don't believe this. This is my fucking wedding day, and you're trying to ruin it.”

“I’m trying to save you from a terrible mistake.”

“I knew you were jealous of Jason and me, but this is ridiculous.”

“I am not jealous.”

Janelle burst into the room. “This is no time for you girls to be sitting around chatting. There’s work to do. Ginny come with me, we need to put out more chairs.”

Ginny didn’t hesitate to follow her mother out of the room. What a giant, stupid mistake this had been. She should have known that Bryn wouldn't listen to her. Now her sister thought she was jealous. Of course, she had been jealous. Extremely jealous. But she wasn't anymore. She wished she could undo the last five minutes.

Ginny helped her parents set up for the wedding. She watched the sky for rain and the road for Jason’s car. Her stomach was a tangle of nerves and guilt. Jason not showing up would be disastrous, and yet, every minute that he didn't arrive she felt relief. In the long run, it might be better if he didn't show up, but that wasn't Jason's style. Jason did what he was supposed to do. He'd be here, and he'd have an explanation. She was not going to call him, no matter how badly she wanted to.

Aunt Maureen and Uncle Vic pulled in and parked behind Ginny’s car. Vic wore a black suit. Ginny recognized it as the same one he’d worn to Grandpa Cotton’s funeral the year before. It seemed appropriate.

Maureen lifted an eyebrow at Ginny’s sweats. “Shouldn't you be getting dressed?”

“I have a little time.”

Another car pulled up. Jason’s mother got out. Jason was not with her.

“I’d better get ready.” Ginny made for the house at a jog and nearly ran over her mother, who had changed into a sunny yellow dress.

“Do you know why Jason isn’t here?”

“No.”

“Bryn says he’s not answering his phone and she’s so worried and nervous that she’s making herself sick.” 

Ginny knew it wasn’t only nerves making Bryn sick. She wished there was some way to get her dress out of the guest bedroom without having to see Bryn again. There wasn’t. Carissa had arrived to do Bryn’s hair. She answered when Ginny knocked, pulled Ginny inside and locked the door behind her.

On a chair in the middle of the room, makeup finished, hair half curled, Bryn looked far from the happy bride. “You'd better be here to tell me that Jason has arrived.”

Ginny shook her head.

“When I left this morning he said he was going to sleep a little longer and then shower and drive out here. Maybe he slept through the alarm.”

“He’s not sleeping,” Ginny said.

“How do you know?” Bryn asked.

“His car wasn’t there when…um, earlier.”

“What do you mean earlier?”

“I, uh, I stopped by there on the way here, and his car wasn’t there. I just assumed that he was on his way here.”

“Why did you go over there?” Bryn asked. “What did you say to him, Ginny?”

“Nothing.”

“You told him I got fired, didn’t you?”

“No.”

“Then you admit that you knew?”

“Yes, but I didn’t tell him. I probably should have, since you certainly had no intention of telling him.”

“You said something about Tanner. Pierce told you that he—it wasn’t my fault. I was pushing him away.”

“That’s what Pierce said.” Ginny wondered now if it was true. 

“He's running,” Carissa said. “This proves that Jason's no better than the rest of them. If you don't fall for them, you can't get hurt. Fuck men, but never trust them is my motto.”

“You’re wrong,” Ginny said. “All men are not like that. Jason isn’t, and neither is Pierce.”

The look that shot between Carissa and Bryn sent Ginny’s stomach sliding toward the floor. “What?”

“You have to tell her,” Carissa said.

“Tell me what?” Ginny asked.

“I didn't want to be the one to tell you,” Bryn said. “Unlike you, I don't want to hurt my sister.”

“Just tell me, damn it.”

“Fine. Pierce was using you. Steele made a bet with him that he couldn't, you know, take your virginity.”

“Fifty bucks seems low to me, considering how long you’ve held onto it,” Carissa said.

“No,” Ginny said. “I don't believe it. Pierce wouldn't do that.”

“I heard it from Tanner. He said that’s what the money on the refrigerator is for,” Bryn said.

You don't want to know. That’s what Pierce had said when she’d asked him about it.

“Assholes,” Carissa said.

Janelle pounded on the door, demanding to be let in. Carissa opened it, and Janelle burst into the room talking, “I just remembered, I had the accident dream again last night, the one with Chuck Norris in it. I didn’t see your father this time. It was only Chuck, an ambulance, and a pond full of croaking frogs. What if it was Jason who got into an accident?”

“That would explain why he’s not here.” Bryn looked downright hopeful.

“Oh my God Bryn, do you ever think about anyone besides yourself?”

They all stared at Ginny as if she were the one who had said something wrong. Ginny grabbed her bag and went into the connected bathroom. She locked the door to the bedroom and the one to the hallway. A wave of dizziness came over her. She sank to the floor and put her head between her knees.

It had all been an act. Pierce didn’t want her. He’d been pretending all along to win a bet. She'd been played. She was the butt of a joke, and everyone knew about it. Pierce and his brother were probably laughing at her, at this very moment.

The first itchy red blotch appeared on her left arm. Within minutes, there were more. Ginny got up off the floor and looked in the mirror. There was one on her cheek now. It was so red and puffy it looked like someone had hit her.

There was a knock on the bathroom door. Ginny called out for whoever it was to use the upstairs bathroom. She couldn't be seen like this. Everyone would ask questions. She couldn't go out there, and she couldn’t stay in here. There was only one way out of this—through the bathroom window. She’d sneak around the side of the house with the trees for cover, run to her car and drive home.

Ginny climbed into the claw foot bathtub and then onto the edge of the tub. It wasn’t a big window. With her bag around her neck, she hoisted herself onto the windowsill, so that her head and torso were out the window, her lower half still inside. What now? Fall on her face? This wasn’t going to work. Feet first was the only way. She tried again. The first foot was easy, the second a bit trickier. She had to hold onto the sides of the window to keep from falling back into the tub and possibly breaking her skull. Once she was sitting on the sill with her legs outside and her torso inside, she had to bend her back limbo style to get through. This was a challenge for Ginny, as she’d never been particularly flexible. She pushed off from the sill and hoped for the best.

“Ow, ow ow,” she cried, holding her boobs, which had nearly been scraped off by the window.

At least she was out. Now all she had to do was get to her car without being seen.

“Hi, Ginny.”

It was Cousin Angel. Ginny held a finger to her lips, “Pretend you didn’t see me, okay?”

The girl’s eyes widened. Not waiting for assurances, Ginny snuck around the back of the house and along the side. She saw that her car had been blocked in.

Damn, damn, damn. Why hadn't she thought to park on the street? Because she hadn't planned to make her escape before the wedding began. Another car pulled in. She watched Hank and Britney get out. Did they know about the bet, too? If Britney didn't, she soon would. Ginny imagined her telling Hank all about it. The two of them would feel sorry for poor Ginny. She couldn't face them, not now.

The barn, she decided. She would hide in the barn until this was all over with.

****

Pierce found the Cotton house at ten minutes to one. It was pouring. Some people were sitting in their cars, and others were huddled beneath a white tent, trying unsuccessfully to hide from the rain. He heard someone yell for help. A strong gust of wind had caused the tent to tip dangerously. Pierce got out of the car and ran across the yard to where Walt was holding one leg of the tent. He grabbed onto another leg just in time to keep the whole thing from toppling.

Walt ordered the others to carry the food inside before all was lost. Pierce kept hold of the tent as the inhabitants scrambled to move everything. As soon as the tent was cleared out, the wind stopped.

“Picked a hell of a day for a wedding,” Walt said.

“Pretty crazy,” Pierce agreed.

A woman in a yellow dress darted across the lawn, one hand on her head in a hopeless attempt to keep her hair in place. “We have a problem.”

“No kidding,” Walt said.

From the way the woman glared at Walt, Pierce guessed that she had to be Ginny’s mother.

“The downstairs bathroom is locked, but no one is answering when we knock. We think Ginny was the last person to go in there and we can’t find her anywhere.” 

Pierce had a sudden vision of Ginny sprawled out on his bathroom floor. What if she’d had a panic attack and fainted?

He started toward the house. The living room was jammed full of people. Pierce heard someone ask if anyone had seen the groom yet. No one had. He got directions to the bathroom. A young girl with white-blonde hair and pale blue eyes stood in front of the door with her legs tightly crossed. “It’s locked, but there’s no one in there.”

He tried the doorknob and called Ginny’s name. There was no answer. Walt came up behind him.

“If Ginny is in there she’s not answering,” Pierce said. “Do you want me to break down the door?”

“We might have to,” Walt said.

“If you lift me up, I could go in through the window,” the girl said.

“The window. Good thinking Angel, but it’s probably locked,” Walt said.

“It’s not. Ginny left it open when she climbed out of it.”

“Ginny climbed out the window?” Pierce asked.

“Yes, a while ago. Can you please lift me through it? I have to go now.”

Why would Ginny go out the window?

“There’s another bathroom upstairs,” Walt said.

“The toilet is plugged up,” Angel said.

“Oh shit,” Walt said.

“Yes, that too. It's on the floor. It's so gross.”

Walt looked from the bathroom door to the ceiling as if he couldn't decide which disaster to tackle first.

“You get the toilet,” Pierce said. “I’ll take care of this.”

“Thanks.” Walt dashed off.

Angel tugged on Pierce’s sleeve, “The window, please.”

Pierce went out the back door with the girl. The raincloud had moved out from in front of the sun, allowing a bright ray to beam down. “Did you happen to see which way Ginny went after she climbed out the window?”

Angel pointed toward the barn.

Pierce lifted her into the window feet first. When she'd assured him that she'd landed safely, he jogged to the barn. He found Ginny in a corner, sitting on a hay bale, her knees drawn to her chest. Her face was red and blotchy with hives. She'd been crying. His first instinct was to take her in his arms and fix whatever was wrong, but then it occurred to him that she might be crying over Jason getting married.

Ginny jumped to her feet. A second too late, Pierce realized that she was furious---at him. There was no time to avoid the slap coming his way.

“Congratulations on winning the bet, asshole.”

Pierce put one hand to his face, stunned.

“Yeah, I know all about it. Tanner told Bryn.”

Kill Tanner.

“What did you do, give your brother regular updates? Tell him how far you got after every date? Laugh about my anxiety issues?”

“No, of course not. You know it wasn’t like that, Ginny.”

“Do I? Do you have any idea how it made me feel when Bryn told me that you bet on my virginity?”

“Yes. I have an idea.” Pierce felt his anger rise. “You must have felt used. Well, guess what Ginny? That’s exactly how I felt when you admitted your feelings for Jason. Not to mention your dumb goal, which is no worse than my bet.”

Ginny’s expression hardened. “So we both got what we wanted. I guess that makes us even, doesn't it?”

Pierce rubbed his cheek, “I guess so.”

Ginny strode past him toward the house.

Pierce didn't waste any time getting to his car. For the first mile or two, it was anger driving. Ginny may have gotten what she wanted, but he certainly hadn't. His face stung. She should have at least asked him about the bet first, and not assumed that it was true, especially considering the unreliable source. It was true, sure, but she still should have let him explain, and given him a chance to apologize.

A green Accord turned off a side road, pulling out right in front of him. Pierce pressed hard on the brake and swore loudly. He recognized the What Would Jesus Do bumper sticker and realized that he’d found the groom---driving in the opposite direction of the wedding. What the hell?

A mile down the road Jason made a turn. According to the sign, the road led to a boat dock. Jason was heading for the river. Why? Pierce followed, taking the turn a little too fast. The country road was long and winding. He came around a curve and found the road blocked by a loose horse. Two teenage girls were trying to catch it. In the minutes it took them to get the skittish horse out of the road, Jason's car disappeared.

Pierce kept going in the same direction. It started raining again. He followed the road until it ended at a small dock. The only car was Jason’s. Jason wasn’t in it. Pierce walked to the edge of the river and peered out at the brown water. There was nothing out there, aside from a canoe, but it was a long way off. It was a rocky beach. On the left, a few hundred yards down, the beach ended abruptly. Cliffs extended over the water. He looked up and caught a glimpse of a man dressed in black. It was Jason, and he was standing on the edge of a cliff. It wasn’t likely that he was there to take in the view.

Steep steps led from the beach to the top of the cliff. Pierce started up the steps at a run. When he reached the top, he found Jason in jumping position. Jason turned, looked right at Pierce, and then looked back out at the water. An image of Jason's broken body lying on the rocks came to him. Pierce thought of Ginny, of what it would do to her. Out of breath, heart pounding, he slowed his pace. Running toward a potential jumper could backfire. He had to stay calm.

Jason stood perfectly still, not bothering to wipe the rain off his face. “It looks higher from the ground.”

“You think so?” Pierce kept his voice steady.

“I’d have to take a running leap to reach the water. It’s probably too shallow. Feet first and I might break both legs. A belly flop might cause internal damage, broken pelvis, seriously damaged face, but not necessarily death.”

“I have to agree. It would be a real bitch to screw this up. You could end up paralyzed and then someone would have to take care of you, probably your mother.”

“Don't say that, please, don't even say that.” Jason took one step back from the edge.

Pierce felt his heart rate slow. “I take it you don’t want to get married today?”

“I do want to get married. I’ve always wanted to get married.”

“Okay, so that means you don’t want to marry Bryn?” Pierce asked.

Jason shook his head. “I have to tell her, but I can’t. I keep driving to the house, but every time, I turn around before I get there, and end up back here.”

“How many times have you been here today?”

“Three.”

Holy crap.

Jason’s face had turned dangerously pale. “I can’t go there and face everyone. I can’t do it.”

“So don’t.”

“I have to.”

Jason looked like he might throw up. Or faint. Or make a running leap.

“No, you don’t. You don’t have to do anything. Come on, let’s go.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know, a tavern maybe. We’ll play a few rounds of pool and get good and drunk.”

Jason put one hand over his midsection. “I can’t. I’ve got a hangover.”

“Okay then, I’ll take you home.”

“I can’t go home, they’ll find me there.”

The rain became a downpour. “We’ll go to my house and watch baseball or something.”

Jason didn’t move.

“You’re ruining your tux and your shiny shoes.” Pierce gave Jason’s foot a little kick. “Come on, let’s go.”

Jason looked down at the rocks for a second, shook his head a little and then turned and started for the stairs.

Pierce let out a breath of relief.

“You can follow me,” Pierce said when they’d reached their cars.

Jason fumbled with his keys, dropped them in the sand, and then picked them up again. His hands were trembling so badly that it took him two more tries to unlock his car door. His phone was on the seat. He picked it up, glanced at the screen, and then dropped it as if he’d been shocked. “I have eighteen new messages.”

The look on his face was sheer panic.

Pierce picked up Jason's phone and put it in his pocket. He took the keys right out of Jason's hand, closed the car door and locked it. “I'll drive. We can come back for your car later.”

Pierce expected Jason to argue. He would have. Instead, Jason got into the passenger seat of Pierce’s car, leaned his head back and closed his eyes, one hand over his midsection. The guy needed psychological help. Pierce didn’t know what most people would do, other than call an emergency hotline, but for him the answer was simple. He’d have to call the last person he wanted to ask a favor of.

Unfortunately, Saturday afternoon was the one time of the week when his dad turned off his phone and took a break from work. David would likely be golfing, or out somewhere with Charmaine. He might not get the message until evening. In the meantime, Jason was in no condition to be left alone.

****

Ginny dressed for the wedding even though it was well after one and there was no sign of Jason. The guests were packed into the house, restless and whispering amongst themselves. Some were genuinely worried. Others, she guessed, were anxious to hear a good story, the kind they could tell their coworkers about on Monday. So far, no one had left. It was raining out, and the house was crammed full, their combined body heat making it steamy. Evelyn sat in a corner, ankles crossed, hands tightly clasped together. Pastor John stood beside her chair, one hand on her shoulder.

Afraid of accidentally making eye contact with either of them, or anyone else, Ginny squeezed her way into the kitchen, and right into the middle of her parent’s argument.

Walt wanted to start feeding people. Janelle insisted that they wait.

“We’ll start the ceremony as soon as he shows up. We can’t do that if everyone is eating.”

“And if he doesn't show up? People will start leaving, and we'll be stuck with all this food. We can't let it go to waste.”

Ginny’s phone rang. She was holding it in her hand in the hope that Jason would call, and the sound made her jump. Her parents looked at her expectantly. She glanced at the screen. It was Pierce.

“It’s not Jason.” Needing privacy for this call, Ginny stepped into the pantry, turned on the light switch that hung from the ceiling by a string, and closed the door so hard that a couple of cans fell off the shelves. “I have nothing to say to you.”

“I found Jason.”

Something in his voice sent fear coursing through her. “Where?”

“Standing on the edge of a cliff.”

“What?”

“He’s okay. He’s at my house.”

“Get him on the phone.”

“He doesn't want to talk to anyone right now.”

“If he's having a breakdown he needs help. I'm coming over, and I'm bringing Pastor John with me.”

“Ginny, don’t do that. I left my dad a message. As soon as he gets it, he’ll come over. He’ll be able to help Jason.”

“How can you be sure?”

“This is the kind of stuff he does. Trust me on this.”

“Trust you?”

“On this. Please. You’re going to have to tell everyone that the wedding is off.”

It was sinking in now. Ginny’s head was spinning. She reached for the shelf to steady herself, and knocked down a container of mixed nuts. “What do you mean by cliff?”

“About ten miles from your parent’s house there’s a boat dock and a cliff.”

Jason must be freaking out, afraid of getting married, but also afraid of hurting Bryn. “He wasn't going to jump was he?”

“I don't know. I don’t think so. My dad is trying to call me back now. I have to go.”

Ginny stepped out of the pantry. Her parents were still bickering. “Jason’s not coming.”

They both stopped talking mid-sentence.

“Pierce found him at the river, on the cliff. He was so upset that he was thinking about…”

“Walt, she’s white as a sheet!”

The floor was moving and for a second Ginny thought it was an earthquake, just what they needed right now. Then she realized that she, not the floor, was moving. In the next second, her dad’s arms were around her, holding her up. Her mom brought over a chair. Her dad lowered her into it. Ginny leaned over, elbows on knees, face in her hands.

Her mother brought her a glass of water. After a moment, the fainting feeling passed, and she took a long drink.

“What do you mean he was on a cliff?” Walt asked.

“You know, down the road from here, above the river.”

“That’s more of an embankment than a cliff.”

“What if he’d jumped?” Ginny said.

“He might have broken his ankles,” Walt said.

“Who is going to tell Bryn?” Ginny asked.

“Tell Bryn what?” Grandma Cotton asked as she walked into the kitchen.

“The groom bailed,” Walt said. “I thought the kid was a bit of a pansy anyway, and this just proves it.”

“I can’t believe you’re going to resort to name calling at a time like this,” Janelle said.

“He doesn't have the courage to come here and tell her in person, that makes him a pansy.”

“Who is a pansy?” asked Uncle Vic as he entered the room.

“The groom,” Walt said. “I might have to punch him.”

“As if that will solve anything,” Janelle said.

In another minute, the news would spread through the house, and Bryn might hear it from some random cousin. Not wanting that to happen Ginny stood up. Her legs still felt like jelly. She ignored her mother’s suggestion that she sit, and went straight to the guest bedroom. Carissa let her in, and quickly closed and locked the door behind her.

“Jason isn’t coming.”

“What?”

“He’s freaking out, having a nervous breakdown.”

“Asshole,” Carissa said.

“Jason is not an asshole,” Ginny said. “He has problems.”

“It figures you’d defend him, even now, when he’s doing this to me,” Bryn said.

There was a hard knock on the door. It was Grandma Cotton. She went straight to Bryn and put her arms around her. Bryn broke down in sobs. Ginny walked out.

(Enjoy the holidays!)

Read Chapter Fourteen Here:

When Ginny arrived at Jason’s for the bachelor party on Friday, Peter answered the door. For once he didn’t look like he’d been working out. He wore black, skinny jeans, a tight white T-shirt that accentuated his biceps, and a chain with a peace symbol.

“You look nice tonight,” Ginny said.

“Thanks. I have a date.”

“You’re not staying for the party?”

“My date was planned before Jason changed the day of the party. No way am I canceling on Ken. I’m not sure about this shirt. Do you think it looks all right?”

“Hm. It looks good on you and everything, but if you’re going somewhere nice, a button-up might be better.”

“You’re right.” Peter went off to his bedroom to change.

Jason was in the kitchen putting crackers on a tray, lining them up perfectly. “I should have planned more for tonight. Food and beer and a couple of games, doesn't seem like enough. I hope people don't get bored.”

Ginny set a plate of chocolate chip cookies on the counter. “It’ll be fine.”

Peter reappeared wearing a light blue silk shirt that was every bit as tight as the white one but looked more dressed up. “Better?”

“Yes.”

“What was wrong with the white shirt?” Jason asked.

“This one looks classier don’t you think?” Peter asked.

“You didn't say you were going for classy. You said you were going for hot,” Jason said.

“Can’t I have both?”

“I think the blue one is both,” Ginny said.

“My vote is for the white one,” Jason said.

Peter darted out of the room.

“Why is he listening to you over me?” Ginny asked. “You’ve never been a clothes guy.”

“I could be.”

Someone knocked on the door.

“That must be Ken.”  

Ken was a bit older, late-thirties or early forties and quite attractive. He introduced himself, shook Ginny's hand and then Jason's.

“I hear you’re getting married tomorrow. Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” Jason started to wipe his hand on his jeans, then abruptly stopped.

Ken’s hand had been warm and dry. If someone was sweating, it was Jason.

Peter came in wearing the white shirt. He smiled at his date and went to get his jacket from the back of a chair. He grabbed it with a flourish and his wallet and keys spilled out.

“Oops.” Peter quickly knelt down to pick them up.

A moment later the two were gone. Ginny and Jason looked at each other. They both laughed though Ginny had no idea what was funny.

In the kitchen, Jason poured himself a shot of cinnamon flavored whiskey.

“Since when do you drink the hard stuff?”

“It's my bachelor party. I'm supposed to get drunk.”

“Says who?”

“Society. It’s an unofficial rule. Besides, I enjoy the company of my friends in small doses, one or two at a time. A few drinks will make this easier."

“So why have a party at all?”

“It's what people do. You get married, you have a bachelor party. Your wife gets pregnant, you have a baby shower. The kid turns one, you have a party and let him stick his fingers in the cake and get frosting all over his face, and everyone takes pictures. Seventeen years later you have another big birthday party because he’s an adult now, no more putting his fingers in the cake. Then you send him off to college so he can get a good job and find a nice girl and have a bachelor party and make you a grandfather, and send you to a retirement home where you wait for death.”

Ginny stared at him for a good long moment. “Why do I feel depressed all of a sudden?”

Jason poured another shot and handed it to her.

Ginny downed it. “That's good. I don't think it helped though.”

He filled her shot glass a second time and held it out to her. Ginny shook her head. “No thanks. I got drunk last weekend, and I don't think I'll be feeling the urge to do it again for a long time.”

Jason took the shot himself. “Is Pierce coming?”

“Yes. What’s Bryn doing tonight?” Ginny asked.

He shrugged. “Hanging out with Carissa.”

Someone knocked on the door. It was Hank. He took the beer Jason offered, ate a cookie, and complemented Ginny on how delicious it was. After ten minutes of pleasant conversation, Britney showed up. She wore an ultra-feminine sundress. When introduced to Hank, she smiled sweetly and seemed almost shy.

Others arrived, including Pierce. It was still a relatively small group. They ate, drank, talked and played board games. Pierced whispered to Ginny about it being the tamest bachelor party in the history of bachelor parties, but he seemed to be having fun, probably because he kept winning the games.   

Later, Ginny noticed that Hank and Britney had gravitated to the kitchen, where they were talking exclusively to each other. Hank seemed taller tonight, or maybe it was Britney's lack of height that made it appear that way. Britney giggled at something Hank said, and he smiled. Ginny caught Jason's eye and saw that he, too, was watching them.

“I guess you never know, do you?” Jason said.

It was still early when Pierce announced that he was heading home.

“Already? I thought you might want to come over for a while.” My period is over!

“We're busy at work. I’m going to get up early tomorrow and put in a few hours before the wedding. It's at one, right?”

“At one, yes.” Ginny walked him outside. She accepted a chaste kiss goodnight, all the while wondering if she'd done something wrong. Why didn't he want to come over? Could he be that tired? Ginny felt a sudden urge to sniff her armpits just to be sure she hadn't forgotten her deodorant that morning. Nope, she smelled okay.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she called after him.   

****

When he got home, Pierce found Steele, Carissa, Bryn and Tanner in the living room, drinking. Bryn, her eyes bright from alcohol, was sitting close to Tanner. His arm was around her shoulders.

“Aren’t you getting married tomorrow?” Pierce asked.

“At one o’clock, and you’re all invited.” Bryn moved Tanner’s arm.

“She’s enjoying her last night as a free woman,” Tanner put his arm back around her shoulder. “Her fiancé probably has a hot naked woman giving him a lap dance at this very moment.”

“No, he doesn’t,” Pierce said. “There are no strippers at Jason’s party.”

“No strippers? What kind of a bachelor party is that?”

“A tame one.” Bryn casually lifted Tanner's arm off of her shoulders and set it firmly on his leg. “But that's what I'd expect from Jason.”

“Did you tell them that Jason is a virgin?” Carissa asked as she cracked open a diet soda.

“No, and I wasn’t planning to,” Bryn said.

“She’s marrying a virgin,” Carissa said as if this needed to be repeated.

“For real?” Tanner asked.

“Yes, for real,” Bryn said. “Jason has strong moral values. He believes that waiting for marriage is the right thing to do.”

“How do you know he isn’t lying?” Tanner asked.

“If you knew Jason, you wouldn’t even ask that question,” Bryn said. “He would never lie about something so serious.”

“The guy is a saint,” Pierce said. Or gay.

“Well, I sure as hell wouldn’t want to marry a saint.” Carissa slid one hand along Steele’s thigh.

“He’s not a saint,” Bryn said. “But he knows how to treat women with respect. He’s sweet and considerate and nice. Nice guys are hard to find.”

“I’m a nice guy.” Tanner put his hand on Bryn’s leg.

“You’re a dick,” Pierce said. “Take a hint and keep your hands off her.”

Tanner's body jerked forward as if he wanted a fight. Pierce had no illusions that he could take the guy on his own. Tanner must know whose side Steele would be on. Maybe that’s why he shrugged it off. Or maybe, he was still hoping to get somewhere with Bryn and didn't see the point of ruining his chances by fighting.

Bryn lifted Tanner’s hand with thumb and forefinger, as if it were a dirty sock, and set it on his leg. “Stay.”

“What do you want to get married for anyway?” Tanner asked.

“I'm going to have a baby and stay home with her and---”

“---not have to work,” Carissa said. “You’re just looking for a man to support you so you won’t have to cut hair or waitress.”

“I want to be a mom.” Bryn’s lips curved into a pout. “It’s something that I know I’ll be good at. I’m going to stay home and take care of my kids. My grandma did it, and she had seven kids.”

Carissa shuddered.

“I take it you don’t like kids,” Steele said.

“Kids are alright, as long as they're someone else's,” Carissa said.

Pierce wondered when Steele was going to quit wasting his time with women like Carissa. He should be looking for someone who would be a mother to Caleb.

“The hot tub should be ready now,” Steele said.

“Oh good. I even remembered to bring a swimsuit,” Bryn said.

“We’re wearing suits?” Tanner said. “That’s no fun.”

“I’m going to bed. Try to keep the noise down.” Pierce didn’t expect a response and didn’t get one.

When he got into bed, Pierce could hear the hot tub bubbling, soft voices, and an occasional giggle. He wished he’d stayed at Jason’s party and gone home with Ginny. It was that damned goal of hers that had held him back. Logic was telling him that one day wouldn't make a difference. Ginny’s feelings for Jason weren’t going to change the moment he married her sister. Still, he’d feel better waiting until after the wedding to sleep with her.

****

Pierce was awakened by the sounds of sex. His bedroom was right below Steele's. He flipped on his light and reached into his nightstand drawer for earplugs.

“Oh God, oh God I’m coming…”

“Oh, Sweet Jesus Carissa, come already so I can get some sleep.” Pierce muttered.

He had one earplug in when he heard the word “don't.” It wasn't Carissa's voice. It sounded like Bryn. If Steele and Carissa were in the bedroom, then Bryn must be alone with Tanner. Shit. Pierce got out of bed, pulled on a pair of shorts, and went upstairs.

Tanner and Bryn were on the sofa. Her bikini top was half off, one small breast exposed. Tanner’s hands were all over her. It didn’t look like she was fighting him real hard, but the alcohol likely had something to do with it.

“Is this the only way you can get laid? Go after girls who are too drunk to say no?”

Tanner jumped to his feet. Pierce knew he was in trouble, but no way in hell was he going to back down to the bastard.

****

Hank and Britney were sitting at the table, still immersed in private conversation. Ginny was the only other guest left, and she was sitting on the sofa next to Jason.

“Can you make the walls stop spinning?” Jason asked.

“No, but I can keep it from getting worse.” She took the glass out of his hand. “You don't want to be hung over on your wedding day.”

“That wouldn't be fair to Bryn, would it?”

“No.”

“I’m scared, Ginny.”

“If you’re afraid of your wedding night, don't be,” Ginny said, thinking of Bryn’s plan to make sure Jason enjoyed it. “I’m sure it will be fine.”

“What if the wrong Jason is winning?”

Ginny got a sinking feeling in her chest. She was about to ask him what he meant when Hank and Britney came into the living room and said their goodbyes.

“They like each other,” Jason said.

Ginny wasn’t about to let him change the subject. “Talk to me. Tell me who this other Jason is.”

He shook his head. “He’s nobody, a figment of my imagination.”

“If you have imaginary people living in your mind, that's a problem. Seriously, you need to get help to deal with whatever, or whoever is causing you to lose weight and sleep. What's scaring me is I'm getting the feeling that this figment doesn't want to get married tomorrow."

“He doesn't, but I do. I’m going to win this one, Ginny.”

“You need a psychiatrist, you know that right?”

Jason leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

“Seriously Jason. You can’t marry Bryn unless you’re sure. It wouldn't be fair to her, or to you.”

He didn’t answer. Ginny heard a car pull up out front, followed by footsteps and voices outside the front door and assumed that Peter must be home.

The door opened and Bryn, Carissa, and Pierce walked in. Pierce? What the heck?

Jason stood up, wobbling slightly. Bryn went right to him. “Is the party over?”

“It doesn't have to be.” Jason put his arms around Bryn and began kissing her passionately.

“We're on our way to the emergency room,” Carissa said. “Bryn wanted us to drop her off here, and it's sort of on the way.”

Carissa's makeup was smeared, her blouse inside out. Pierce wore shorts, flip-flops, and a T-shirt. There was something stuck to the back of his head. Ginny recognized it. “Why are you wearing big boy pants on your head?”

“The towel kept falling off. And they’re more absorbent.”

Ginny saw the blood on the back of his shirt. “What happened?”

“He got into a fight with Tanner,” Carissa said. “Since I’m the only sober one, I’m taking him to get stitched up.”

Bryn and Jason, who were kissing and groping each other as if they were alone, went into the bedroom and closed the door firmly behind them.

Ginny grabbed her purse and sweater. “I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“Thank you,” Pierce said.

“Great! I'm done here,” Carissa said.

Once in the car, Ginny asked Pierce what caused the fight.

“Tanner was messing with Bryn. As you probably noticed, she’s drunk.”

“He hit you in the back of the head?”

“No. He swung, I ducked. Unfortunately, I tripped and hit my head on the end table.”

“Oh. Well, thanks for defending my sister.”

“You’re welcome.”

When they got to the emergency room, the line was surprisingly long.

“Popular place,” Pierce said.

The older couple directly in front of them showed no signs of injury. Neither did the young woman in front of the older couple. Shouldn't the person who was bleeding get treated first?

The line moved at a snail's pace until it was their turn to check in. Next, they moved to the waiting area and sat across from a very young mother holding an infant. Ginny could see at a glance that the baby was feverish, and seemed to be too sick to cry. The girl rocked and soothed him, her own eyes filled with fear. Ginny was glad when the baby was the next one called.

When it was Pierce's turn, they went into a small, curtained room where the nurse, an older woman with a no-nonsense manner, cleaned the wound quickly and efficiently. A few minutes later a young doctor with black hair and brown skin swooped into the room, moving and talking like he'd had one too many energy drinks.

“I saw you come in and I figured a diaper on the head couldn't be good.”

“They’re big boy pants,” Ginny said.

“It looks like this big boy has a boo boo.”

Ginny giggled. Pierce did not look amused.

The doctor slipped on a pair of gloves and looked at the back of Pierce's head. “Good thing my mother taught me to sew because you're going to need a bit of needlework. So, how did it happen?”

“I tripped and hit my head on the coffee table.”

“Tripped?” he repeated as if he didn’t believe it.

“Yes,” Pierce said. “Tripped.”

“Okay then. I’m going to numb the area before I stitch it up. This will sting a bit.”

When the needle went in, Pierce closed his eyes and inhaled sharply.

The doctor left the room while they waited for the injured area to get numb.

Ginny went to Pierce and stood between his knees. She kissed him. His hands came to rest on her waist drawing her closer. They were still kissing when the doctor reappeared.

Ginny quickly stepped back, but he was smiling. “You go right ahead and keep the patient distracted while I get to work.”

When it was done, Ginny drove Pierce home. She went inside, down the stairs, through the sitting room, and into the bedroom with him. The bed was unmade, and the blanket was thrown back in invitation. How silly it seemed now, that the sight of this bed had once given her a panic attack. When Pierce started taking off his bloody shirt, she helped, slowly easing it past his bandage. Dried blood formed a trail down the center of his back and under the waistband of his shorts.

“You have blood on your back. I'm going to wash it for you.” Ginny ushered him into the bathroom. She wet a washcloth, put a little soap on it and wiped down his back. She rinsed the cloth and then wet it again to get the soap off. Water dripped down his back, getting his shorts wet.

“Sorry.” Ginny tried to dry the back of his shorts with a hand towel.

Pierce pushed his shorts down and off, leaving the boxer briefs on. He turned towards her. She planted a soft kiss in the place where his neck met up with his shoulder. His skin was hot. Ginny pressed close, running her hands over his back. “Let’s play House, no rules this time.”

“Ginny…”

“We haven't touched each other all week, and we're desperate to.” She put her arms around his neck.

“Ouch.”

Ginny pulled her hands back. “Your stitches, sorry. I wasn’t thinking. You’re hurt. You probably can’t…”

“I can,” he said quickly. “But I’m not sure…”

“I'm sure for both of us.” Ginny touched her fingertips to the middle of his chest and trailed them down his body until she reached his abdomen. When she tried to go lower, he caught her hand. A dozen emotions flickered across his face. She didn't understand a single one. “Is something wrong?”

He seemed to be contemplating something. After a few seconds, he shook his head and released her hand. “No.”

They moved to the bed, kissing, touching, and pleasing. Ginny was more than ready when Pierce went for the box on his nightstand.

“I’ve never done this before,” he said when the condom was in place.

“You’ve never used a condom?”

“No, not that. I’ve never been with someone who has never done this before.”

“Oh. Does it make a difference?”

“I think it does. I wanted to try it with you on top first, so that if it hurts you can stop, but I can't lie on my back because of the stitches.”

Ginny liked the idea of him planning this moment with her comfort in mind. “I’m sure it’ll be fine however you want to do it.”

“If it hurts, or if you want me to stop, let me know.”

****

Afterward, lying in the dark, Pierce asked, “How you doing?”

“Good.”

“You’re not disappointed?”

“No. How’s your head?”

“It hurts. How’s your…you know.”

“Hurts, but not too much.” Ginny snuggled close, wanting to be held.

Pierce obliged.

It occurred to her that the actual act couldn't possibly have lived up to the fantasy she'd indulged in for so long. It wouldn't have, even if it had been her wedding night. Still, being with Pierce felt right. He cared about her and wanted to be with her. She felt the same about him. No matter how things turn out, she was glad it happened this way.

Happy Holidays Everyone!

Read Chapter One Here:

On Monday, Ginny found it hard to focus on work. All she could think about was Pierce. Friends. The word still stung. But they were together now, and she wasn't going to do anything to mess it up.

The workday was nearly over. She hadn’t gotten much done and was worrying about it when she got a text from Britney inviting her out for beer and burgers at the brewery. Ginny responded that she couldn't go because of her goal to fit into the dress. Britney suggested they get salads at the vegetarian place near Ginny’s apartment. Ginny agreed out of curiosity. She had no idea why Bryn's roommate wanted to get together with her. She hoped it didn't have anything to do with Britney's interest in Steele.

Ginny rode her bike to the restaurant after work. Britney had arrived ahead of her and was waiting in a booth. She jumped right in talking about the bachelorette party and how drunk everyone had gotten, including herself. She mentioned how attractive Pierce was but didn't say one word about how upset she'd been over Steele liking Carissa. Next, she told Ginny about the woman they'd found to rent Bryn's room.

Bryn planned to move some of her stuff to Jason’s place before the wedding. Her furniture would be brought to Grandma Cotton’s to store for now. Peter would only be in Portland for a couple more months before he transferred back to San Francisco, so the three of them would be roommates for a while. Bryn and Jason would be spending the first few days of their marriage on the coast. Hawaii would come later.

Ginny was halfway through her salad, thinking that Britney must just want someone to talk to when Britney mentioned Hank. “You said he was only okay looking but nice.”

“Yes, he seemed nice.”

“Since you’re not interested, would you mind maybe asking Jason to set me up with him?”

Ah, that’s what this was about. Ginny couldn't picture the two together. Hank, she figured, wouldn't be exciting enough for Britney, and Britney would be too much of a party girl for Hank. Ginny couldn't think of a nice way to say this. “Uh, sure, I can mention it at chess club tomorrow night, or you could ask Bryn to ask Jason.”

“Bryn's mad at me, which is stupid because I was mad at her first. Don't you hate it when you get mad at someone, and they turn everything around and make you the bad guy?”

“Uh…”

“Jason is a nice guy. He deserves honesty, don’t you think?”

“Of course.”

“I don't know him like you do, not well enough to call him and tell him something that isn't any of my business, but he's your friend, and Bryn is your sister, so you should know what's going on.”

“What are you talking about? No, don't tell me.” Ginny put her hands over her ears. “If this is going to put me in an awkward position, I don't want to know.”

“You're right, totally right. Let's pretend I never said a word.”

“Let's do that.” Ginny lowered her hands and took another bite of her salad. All kinds of unpleasant thoughts went through her mind. If Bryn was doing something bad, the kind of thing that might make Jason change his mind about marrying her, then didn't he have a right to know? As his best friend wasn't it her responsibility to tell him? But Bryn wouldn't do anything too bad. Not unless she'd been drinking. “How bad is this thing that you know?”

Britney shrugged. “I’d be mad if I were him.”

“Just mad? It’s not grounds for calling off the wedding or anything?”

“Probably not. It’s not like she cheated on him or anything like that.”

“Well, then I don’t want to know.”

“Okay then. I won’t say any more about it.”

A minute or two passed in silence.

“Did you know that Steele has a boat?” Britney asked.

“Sure. I’ve seen it in the driveway.”

“He took Carissa out on it yesterday. I don't care or anything. The hot guys are all players anyway.”

“Steele might be, but Pierce isn’t.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Pretty sure.”

“Well, I’m determined to find a nice guy. Tanner, he’s got the body, his biceps are like cantaloupes, but he’s the worst kind of a jerk. I guess he was hitting on Bryn yesterday even though—”

“Yesterday?”

Ginny saw the “oops” written on Britney’s face.

“You mean Bryn was out boating too? Bryn always works on Sunday, that's why she couldn't help with getting the yard ready for the wedding.” Ginny remembered Bryn's story about the woman with the pink hamburger and the oxygen tank, and it hit her, “She got fired, didn't she?”

“You didn’t hear it from me,” Britney said.

“She hasn’t told Jason, has she?”

“She doesn't plan on telling him until after the wedding.”

“What? She can’t do that.”

“Exactly what I was saying.”

“He needs to know.”

“Don't tell him I told you, okay? I have to live with Bryn for the rest of the week, and she gets mean when she’s mad.”

This was true. “This has to come out. I won’t mention you because you didn’t actually tell me. I figured it out.”

“Right,” Britney looked relieved.

“I’ll see Jason at chess club tomorrow.”

“You’ll ask him about introducing me to Hank, right?”

“Sure.”

****

When Jason suggested a Voodoo run after chess club, Ginny agreed. This time, she insisted on driving. They talked about Ginny's parents. Jason was worried that the stress of the wedding was contributing to their relationship problems. She assured him that the wedding had nothing to do with her parents’ problems.

The line for doughnuts was, as usual, long. It was a warm night and still light out.

“Is Bryn working tonight?” Ginny asked.

“Yes. She had to ask for all of next week off so we can go to the beach for a few days after the wedding. Her boss wouldn't give her this week off as well.”

Lies, all of it. Ginny bit her lip to keep from saying this aloud. “I had dinner with Britney yesterday.”

“Really? I didn’t know you two were friends.”

“We’re not really. Britney’s okay I guess, but she did have a motive.”

“Yeah?”

“She asked me about Hank. I told her he seemed decent and now she wants to meet him. I said I’d ask you about it.”

“But Hank’s gay, remember?”           

Ginny giggled. “And Peter isn’t.”

“That's right. Seriously, though, Britney doesn't seem like Hank's type.”

“That was my first thought too. Of course, I never imagined you and Bryn together either.”

“Me neither. As for Britney meeting Hank, he’ll be at my party. I’ll just invite Britney.”

“You do know that most men don't invite women to their bachelor parties unless they’re expecting them to get naked?”

Jason smiled. “I told Bryn she could come too, but she said that would be weird and I should have my own party. It’s so strange to think—” he shook his head and didn’t finish.

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s just that marriage is so permanent.”    

“Tell my parents that.”

“Sorry, I forgot.”

Ginny sighed. “In a way it is permanent. You can get divorced, but then you’ll always be divorced and never just be single again.”

“Exactly.”

“I think that’s why so many people live together first.”        

“My mother would disown me if I shacked up with someone.”

The teenagers they’d seen last time they were here were making their way down the line asking for money again. The older boy with the Mohawk had a hole in the knee of his jeans. The girl with the long blonde hair had dirt on her skirt, and a daisy tucked behind her ear. They smelled like marijuana. The blonde paused in front of Jason, pleading with big brown eyes.

Jason reached into his pocket and pulled out a ten dollar bill.

“Thanks, Man.”

A boy's voice. The blond kid in the skirt was not a girl, as she’d assumed.

When the kids were out of hearing range, Ginny asked, “Did you know that was a boy?”

Jason shrugged, not making eye contact, “I don't know why I did that. They’ll probably buy pot with it.”

Ginny nodded. She’d been thinking the same thing.

When it was their turn, Jason got several doughnuts including a Voodoo Doll for Bryn. Ginny ordered two Dirty Old Bastards.

“You must be off your diet,” Jason said.

“It’s a lifestyle change, not a diet and I haven’t given up on it. There’s nothing wrong with an occasional treat. I’m not going to starve myself to wear a stupid dress.”

“Sorry.” Jason held his hands up in surrender. “It’s just that you don’t usually get two.”

“Oh, that’s what you meant. One of these is for Pierce.”

“Ah. How is that going?”

“Good.”

“Are you going to bring him to my party?”

“I hadn't thought about it. I guess I could. It might be awkward since he wouldn't know anyone.”

Jason gave her shoulder a little nudge. “Is he too cool for your nerdy chess club friends?”

“Our friends aren't nerdy. Well, most of them aren't, and no, that's not it. I don't know. Maybe I will invite him.”

“You should.”

Jason was quiet on the drive back to the parking lot where they'd left his car. When they arrived, he didn't get out right away. “Can I ask you a weird question?”

“Have I ever said no to that?”

“That’s what I love about you.”

For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. Ginny was used to Jason taking his time to gather his thoughts, but she was anxious to bring Pierce his doughnut. “So ask already.”

“I have a feeling it’s going to sound weirder out loud than it does in my head.”

“Weirder than you asking me if I’ve ever gone looking for the answers to life in a bookstore?” 

“Maybe. I don't know. Okay, here it is. Have you ever felt like there are two people inside of you, two very different people who want opposite things?”

“Yes, all the time.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Really? What do you do about it?”

“It depends on which version of me is winning at the moment. Seriously, I know I’m not two people, just one confused person who doesn't always know what she wants. I think it’s a matter of combining them into a person you can both live with.”

“What if the two people living in your mind are so opposite that they can’t be combined?”

“Well, then I’d say you have a big problem. Jason if this is about marrying Bryn…”

“I’m getting married. I’ve already decided that. A family is what I want. It’s what Bryn wants. I need to find a way to get rid of this other person.”

“Does Pastor John perform exorcisms?” Ginny was trying to be funny, but Jason didn’t laugh.

“If he was a priest and we were Catholic, I’m sure he’d give it a try. He’s been doing his best to help me for years.”

“Maybe you're talking to the wrong person. A psychologist might be better able to help you deal with whatever, or whoever is in here.” She tapped his temple with her index finger.

“Maybe. I shouldn't lay all this on you, but you’re the only one I can talk to.”

And yet he hadn't told her anything. “You scare me sometimes.”

“I’m fine. Everything is fine.”

“Jason…”

He got out of the car. “I’ll see you Friday.”

****

Pierce was sitting on the sofa with his feet on the coffee table, his computer on his lap and a plateful of nachos beside him when he heard a knock on the front door. He wasn’t expecting anyone and didn’t want to be interrupted. He ignored it, knowing that Steele would answer. On the screen was a chess game. He’d learned how to analyze the board and look many moves ahead. Already he knew that this game would end in a draw. Not what he’d been hoping for, but still an improvement over where he’d been when he’d started studying the game a few weeks ago.

He heard Steele open the door, heard voices and footsteps on the stairs. Ginny appeared. She held a small white paper sack.

“I sent you a text that I was on my way over with a surprise. Didn’t you get it?”

“No, my phone is charging in the other room. I was concentrating.” He clicked out of the screen he was on and set the computer on the coffee table.

“I’m interrupting something. I’m sorry.”

“Don't be.” He moved what was left of the nachos to the table to make room for her.

“I didn’t know you wore glasses.”

“I prefer contacts, but my eyes were hurting, probably from staring at a screen for too long. They look dorky, don't they?”

“No, they look fine.”

She was only being polite. He eyed the bag. “What’s that?”

“A Dirty Old Bastard, just for you.” She eyed his plate. “You’re probably not hungry.”

“You don’t have to be hungry to eat a doughnut.” He took it and kissed her cheek. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She bit into hers. “A person could go into sugar shock eating one of these.”

“But it’s good, right?”

“It's good. So I talked to Bryn's friend Britney, and she told me that Bryn partied with your brothers on Sunday.”

“She did.”

“I also heard that she got fired from her job and doesn't want anyone to know.”

“I heard that too.”

“She told you?”

“Not me personally, but that’s what I heard.” Pierce saw no reason to explain that Carissa had mentioned it in front of Steele and Tanner, and Bryn had gotten mad at her, and then begged them not to tell him so that he wouldn't tell Ginny. Of course, Steele had told him.

“Knowing puts me in an awkward position. I was tempted to tell Jason tonight, but if Bryn figured out that I’m the one who told him, she’d be furious with me. I already feel like I’m caught between them. Jason tells me stuff and asks me not to tell Bryn.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“Something is going on with him. I don't know what exactly, but I know he's not ready to get married. Neither is Bryn. This marriage is a major catastrophe about to happen. Should I try to stop it?”

“They’re both adults. It’s not your responsibility to keep them from making a mistake.”

“Not even when I know things that neither of them does?”

“You’re too close to the situation to be an objective third party.”

“Meaning?”

“Your motives will be questioned.”

“By who?”

By me. Pierce knew better than to say this out loud. It was safest to avoid the question. “Do you want to be responsible for breaking them up? Even if you're right, and they're making a huge mistake, it's likely that one or both of them won't see you as the one who saved them. They'll be angry. If it's your sister, well, siblings are for life. No offense, but it doesn't seem like you two are close as it is. Why make it worse?”

Ginny sighed. “I don’t know, maybe you’re right. I should stay out of it. I only have one more week to get through. Not even a whole week. If I don’t talk to either of them until the wedding---but there's the bachelor party on Friday. Maybe I should pretend I’m sick and skip it.”

“You can’t do that. Jason is your best friend. You have to go.”

“But what if I say something I shouldn't say?”

“Do you want me to go with you? He did invite me.”

“That would be great.”

Pierce wasn’t entirely sure that she meant it, but when Ginny snuggled up to him, he decided to believe that she did. There were only three days left until the bachelor party, four until the wedding, and five until it was all over with. Then Ginny would stop obsessing over Jason and focus on being with him. At least he hoped that’s what would happen.

                                                         ****

After work on Wednesday, Ginny drove to Bryn's apartment. A plan had been brewing all day. If she could get Bryn to confess that she'd been fired, that might be a way to start a serious conversation. Instead of getting mad at Bryn, Ginny would be sympathetic. She'd find a way to bring up her concerns about Jason, without betraying his trust, and this would get Bryn to open up and admit that she too had noticed that Jason's state of mind wasn't exactly stable. Bryn would see that postponing the wedding was the only logical thing to do.

Ginny hadn’t called Bryn first to tell her that she was coming over. This was part of her plan. She was relieved to see Bryn’s car in the parking lot. Bryn answered the door with a surprised, possibly guilty expression. Ginny plowed right past her and entered the room talking, “I’m returning the turquoise dress. It doesn't fit. I can’t make it fit. I’m not going to your wedding with my boobs spilling out.”

“Okay, okay, calm down already. I’m not unreasonable, you know.”

“Since when? I’ve been starving myself for weeks.”

“And you look great. Seriously you do. It's no big deal. I mean, it is kind of silly to have bridesmaids when there are no groomsmen anyway.”

“You just realized that?”

“I still think it would look good in the photos, but whatever, wear the red dress if you want. It looks good on you.”

“Thank you. I will.” Ginny took a deep breath to make it seem as if she were having a mini panic attack and needed to calm down. “Why aren't you at work anyway? I stopped by, and they said you were off today.”

“I got Rachel to work for me. She’s such a sweetie, said she’d take my shift so I could have another day to get ready for the wedding.”

Liar! Ginny took another deep breath, in a genuine effort to slow her heart rate.

“Sit down, relax,” Bryn said. “If you’re this worked up over my wedding I can’t imagine how you’ll be when it’s your turn.”

Ginny shoved aside two magazines, a hair clip, and an empty chip bag and sat on the sofa. It didn’t look like anyone had cleaned since the bachelorette party. Bryn went into the kitchen and came back with two diet sodas. Ginny broke her own rule against artificial sweeteners and cracked open the can.

“If Carissa comes in, stash it under the coffee table,” Bryn said. “She flips out when we take her soda without asking, and these are her last two.”

Ginny wished that Bryn had told her that a second sooner. She wouldn't have risked it. “Are you going to help Grandma Cotton and Dad get everything ready for Saturday?”

“I was there most of the day, got home a little bit ago. The yard looks great. We borrowed chairs from Jason’s church. Mom is picking up the food on Saturday morning. It’s mostly trays of finger food, nothing fancy. Jason’s mom ordered the cake and is bringing it over on Friday evening. Everything is set.”

“And Jason, he’s not nervous?”

“I wouldn't say that. The guy worries as much as you do. You should have seen his face when I showed him the negligee I plan to wear on our wedding night. He blushed. It was so cute. Want to know what he said?”

“Not particularly, no.”

“He’s afraid of disappointing me. I told him not to worry about me. The first time will be all about him.”

A pleasant memory of Naked House flashed through her mind, and Ginny found herself hoping that Jason would enjoy his wedding night. She was marveling at the lack of jealousy in her reaction when Bryn's phone rang.

“Guess who?” Bryn smiled, “He must have known I was talking about him.”

For the next five minutes, Ginny listened to Bryn talk to Jason. She told him all about her day at Grandma Cotton’s, assuring him that everything was going as planned. Her big worry was her parents. They’d never intentionally do anything to ruin her big day but would they be able to hide the tension between them?

The two were still talking when the front door opened. Ginny went to stash the soda under the coffee table, saw that it was only Britney, and took another sip instead.

“Hi.” Britney glanced from Ginny to Bryn and back again with a concerned expression.

“I came over to tell Bryn that I’m not wearing the turquoise dress. I’m wearing my red one. Bryn was just telling me that Rachel worked her shift today so that she could help my parents get everything ready for the wedding.”

“Well, that was sure nice of Rachel.” Britney rolled her eyes for Ginny’s benefit and then eyed the soda. “That’s not the last one, is it?”

“Um…”

“Carissa is going to be pissed.”

The front door opened.

“Oh shoot.” Ginny slipped the can of diet soda between the sofa cushions, using her thighs to keep it in place.

Carissa breezed in talking. “Some days I love my job, and some days I hate my job. Anyone care to guess which kind of day this was?”

No one did. She griped about a customer all the way into the kitchen and came out with fire in her eyes. She went straight to Bryn. “Is that my last soda?”

“I have to go, Jason. I love you too. Call me later. If I don't answer, it means Carissa killed me.”

“You didn't take my last can, did you?”

“There was one left I swear.” Bryn’s gaze flickered to Ginny and back to Carissa.

“Way to throw me under the bus, Sis.”

“Ginny is a guest. She doesn't know any better. You do.” Carissa took the soda out of Bryn’s hand, sat down on the sofa and took a drink. “At least it’s still cold.”

The jostling of the sofa cushion caused cold soda to slosh out of the can and soak Ginny’s crotch. She gasped and tried to pass it off as a cough. So far her brilliant plan to get a confession out of Bryn was failing. After listening to Bryn on the phone, and hearing the excitement in her voice when she talked to Jason, Ginny couldn't do it. She couldn't tell Bryn that Jason was having doubts. Pierce was right. She had to stay out of it.

(I think this photo would make a good cover!)

Ginny lay in bed, though it was well after eleven in the morning, wondering if blackouts were the mind's way of protecting drunks from all the stupid things they'd said and done the night before. She wished it had happened to her. But no, she remembered every detail. She'd told Pierce how she felt about Jason, and about her goal. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He’d been mad. No, hurt, which was even worse. She’d ruined everything. And she liked him, really liked him. Last night, when he’d walked onto that dance floor and given the blond guy a look of dismissal, she’d known what she wanted and it wasn’t Jason.

Ginny's phone buzzed with an incoming text. She vaguely remembered hearing it ringing and buzzing earlier, interrupting her dreams but not waking her up completely. It might be Pierce. On the other hand, it might not be Pierce. He might never call or text again. Ginny buried deeper beneath the comforter and did an inventory of her body. Her head hurt. Her feet hurt. Her pride hurt. Her stomach felt a bit funky, but not barf-bad. Her abdomen hurt with the familiar pain of cramps, not what she needed today on top of everything else. Ginny sat up slowly, groaning at the pain in her head. On the floor at her feet lay Carissa’s mini skirt. It wasn't Ginny's usual style, but she'd looked good in that outfit. If she hadn't had so many drinks last night, Pierce might still be here, snuggled up beside her.

Her phone rang. She was disappointed to see that it was Bryn. “Hello?”

“Finally. Did you get my texts?”

“I haven’t had a chance to read them.”

“You're not going to believe what Mom's doing, now of all times. It's going to ruin everything.”

“What?”

“She moved out.”

“Are you kidding? When?”

“Today. I guess she put money down on an apartment earlier this week and told Dad she was moving, with or without him.”

“Ultimatums will never work with Dad. He's too stubborn.”

“I’m not sure she wanted it to work. It’s no secret she doesn’t want to live with Grandma anymore. I don't think she wants to live with Dad either. I can’t believe she would do this now, right before my wedding. It’s going to ruin everything.”

“Mom and Dad are splitting up, and all you can think about is your wedding?”

“Don't you dare try to lay a guilt trip on me. The timing is terrible. You can’t tell me that you wouldn’t be upset if you were the one getting married in a week and everything was going wrong.”

Ginny felt a stab of guilt in her mid-section, and the last thing she needed was more pain in her mid-section, real or emotional. “I'm sorry. You're right. This is bad timing. You and Jason have enough to worry about.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I meant with the wedding and everything,” Ginny said quickly.

“I just hope the wedding goes more smoothly than last night did. Things got ugly after you left.”

“What happened?”

“We met Steele, and Britney freaked out because he liked Carissa. She is such a drama queen when she drinks. I had to drag her out of the ladies room. She kept going on about how the good-looking guys never like her. I finally convinced her that there are a whole lot of other good-looking guys out there.”

“I can’t say I’m sorry I missed that.”

“It gets worse. Steele’s friend showed up, and he kept hitting on me, and that pissed Britney off even more, which is stupid because he wasn't nice or anything though he did have a nice body. Totally buff.”

“Was it Tanner?”

“I didn’t catch his name.”

“Weird teeth, swears a lot, real crude.”

“Yeah, that was him. Anyway, Steele invited us all back to his house to hot tub. Carissa was all for it. Britney ended up back in the ladies room crying. I told Carissa we needed to take Britney home, but she wanted to drop Britney off, and the two of us go to Steele's house. I said no, and Carissa got pissed off and said she'd go by herself, but then Britney puked in the car on the ride home, and Carissa spent like an hour cleaning it up because she was afraid she'd never get the smell out and it would ruin her car. By then the bar was closed, and she was not in the mood to get laid anyway, so she went to bed.”

“Wow.”

“I'm so glad to be done with dating. Marriage sounds like sheer bliss compared to the single life.”

“Bliss might be a bit of an exaggeration.”

“I almost forgot. Jason is moving his little party to next weekend. His mom had an incident with her heart last night. She’s fine and everything, but they kept her overnight at the hospital. Jason didn’t tell me last night because he didn’t want to ruin the party. Isn’t that sweet?”

“Uh…”

“He asked me to go with him to pick her up from the hospital. He’s real worried. I read once that you can tell a lot about a man by how he treats his mother.”

What did it say about Jason that he stormed out of Evelyn’s hospital room yesterday?

“When we were in the ladies room last night Britney admitted that she envies me,” Bryn said, “She thinks I'm lucky to have found such a nice guy. Carissa thinks I'm crazy for getting married so young. She thinks it won't last, thinks Jason is too straight-laced for me and that he'll expect me to go to church every Sunday and stay home with him every night, and never party or go out with my friends, but I'm sick of the party scene. I just want everything to be easy. Is that too much to ask?”

“I don't know. Probably. Did Mom really move out?”

“Yes. I don’t blame her for being fed up. It isn’t right that Dad puts Grandma’s needs ahead of Mom’s. She works all day, corrects papers in the evening, and makes the money that pays the bills that piled up when the business went under. Dad spends a lot of time piddling around.”

“That’s not true. Dad does a lot. No way could Grandma manage without him there. She’d have to sell the place.”

“I don’t want that any more than you do, but I’d hate to see mom and dad get divorced over this.”

“Me too. I’m going to call Mom right now.”

“Okay, I’ll talk to you later.”

Ginny checked her other messages. Her mother, who had never gotten the hang of texting, had left a voice message. Hi Sweetheart, I’m just calling to let you know that your dad and I are taking a break from each other. I’m moving to the Avalon Apartments on Second Street, next to the old butcher shop, though I guess you probably don’t remember when it was the butcher’s since you were just a baby then, or maybe not even born, I don’t recall. I’ll be in apartment number six on the first floor. Uncle Chad is here to help me move, so I have to go. My phone is about to die, but you can call me later once it's charged, that is if I can find the charger. I seem to have misplaced it, and I can't ask your dad if he's seen it because he's not talking to me. Okay, I better go now. Love you.

Ginny called her mom. It went straight to voicemail. She started a pot of coffee, put a slice of wheat bread into the toaster and swallowed a couple of Ibuprofen for her headache.

Next, she read a text from Jason.

They’re letting my mom go home today. I’m moving my party to next Saturday. How are you feeling? I hear you got a bit tipsy.

Ginny replied: A little, but I’m fine. I’m going to see my mom. Call later if you feel like it, and then went into the kitchen. The backs of both heels hurt from blisters. Bryn’s pumps had been half a size too small. She ate a single piece of toast and five minutes later still couldn't decide if it had made her feel better or worse. She picked up her phone, and went through her messages again, just to be sure that she hadn’t missed a new text from Pierce. Nope. Nothing. How mad was he? If only she hadn’t told him about her goal. The word sabotage went through her mind. She wondered if maybe the alcohol was not entirely to blame.

Ginny started to call Pierce but changed her mind. He deserved a face-to-face apology. After that, she’d visit her mother.

****

Pierce had been working for a couple of hours when Steele brought him coffee from the shop next door. They stood out front in the sunshine to take a break.

“What happened with Ginny last night?” Steele asked.

Pierce shrugged.

“Not what you were hoping would happen that much is obvious.”

Knowing that his brother would keep asking until he told him, Pierce decided to get it over with. “I found out what she was waiting for, or rather who she was waiting for.”

“Uh-oh. This doesn't sound good.”

“She’s in love with the guy her sister is about to marry.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah.”

For a moment, neither spoke. Steele nodded toward the street. “Is that Ginny's car?”

It was. Ginny got out of her car and started toward him. She wore faded jeans and a pink T-shirt. Her hair was in a ponytail. Pierce was so focused on Ginny he barely noticed when Steele went back inside.

Ginny stopped a few feet from him. Her face was pale. She probably wasn't feeling well today. She was a lightweight, which wasn't a bad thing.

“I’m sorry about last night. I drank too much, acted silly and said things I shouldn't have said.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, determined not to show her any sympathy. “I asked you if there was a specific reason why you waited. You could have told me then that you were waiting for Jason. Instead, you lied during Truth or Dare poker.”

“I didn’t lie. I have been waiting for the right guy.”

“You didn’t mention that the right guy had a name. That’s a lie by omission.”

“The right guy does have a name. I was beginning to think it was Pierce, but if you can't forgive one stupid little omission, then I'm probably wrong about that too.” Ginny turned around and stomped off toward her car.

When Pierce caught up with her, she was already opening the driver's side door. “What are you doing? You can't say something like that and then run away.”

“I’m not running away. I’m leaving. Like you did last night.”

He put his hand on her shoulder, “Ginny…”

She turned around. Tears. Damn.

“It's been a terrible morning. Everything is a mess. I don't feel good, my parents are splitting up, and I think I’m still, unconsciously, trying to sabotage this uh, this thing with us.”

“Thing?”

“I don't know what to call what we’re doing, but I don’t want it to end like this.” She wiped her eyes with her fingers.

His plan to play tough dissolved. He put his arms around her. She melted into him. For a few minutes, he just held her.

“Did you say your parents are breaking up?”

She nodded. “My mom moved into an apartment. I can’t believe she would do that, especially now, a week before the wedding. Bryn is freaking out, of course. I’m going to talk to my mom. They can’t get divorced. They just can’t.”

“Maybe the split is temporary.”

“Do you think so?”

He didn’t, not really, but now that he’d said it there was no going back. “I don't know your parents, but they’ve been married a long time, maybe it’s just the stress. You said your dad lost his business. Living with your grandma has got to be hard, and with the wedding…”

“You're probably right. It's probably just stress. I need to talk to my mom.” She stepped back. “Don’t forget, I owe you a home cooked meal.”

“You don't have to pay up.”

“I lost the bet about Jason’s text. It’s only fair. And I want to. How about tomorrow night?” 

“Okay. Sure.”

“Call me, and we’ll figure out what time.”

When she’d gone, Pierce walked back into the shop.

“What happened?” Steele asked.

“I’m not sure.”

“What do you mean you’re not sure? Are you still going out?”

Pierce shrugged. “I think so.”

Steele shook his head. “Ginny's either going to ditch you or have you thoroughly whipped in no time. Either way, you're screwed.”

Pierce didn’t argue. He took a sip of his now cold coffee and went over the whole scene in his mind. Did Ginny really think he might be her right guy, or was she just saying that because no way was she going to get Jason? He wasn’t going to be made a fool of, not again.

****

Ginny lowered the visor above the driver’s seat, peering into the mirror to assess the damage. Her face was a mess, as expected. Her eyes were red and her cheeks flushed and blotchy. Her mother would know she’d been crying. There was no way to hide it. She had a right to cry. This wasn’t supposed to happen, not to her family. She got out of the car.

The Avalon apartments were nothing special, despite the flower boxes on every tiny balcony trying to say otherwise. Janelle's apartment was at ground level. The welcome mat must have been left by the last tenant. Under a yellow smiley face were the words: Have a Nice Day. Ginny wished that her shoes were muddy so that she could defile the damned thing. Unfortunately, the sun had been shining for two straight days, and the ground was dry. She stomped on it once anyway to make herself feel better.

The window was open, and Ginny could hear her mother singing along to a love song from the seventies. It wasn't a happy song. That, at least, felt right. She rang the doorbell.

Janelle opened the door wearing her housework clothes; old cotton shorts and a T-shirt that had become too big since she’d lost weight. She wore her dyed brown hair in a ponytail. The skin beneath her eyes was dark and puffy. “I guess you found the place okay.”

Ginny nodded as she stepped inside. The white walls smelled like fresh paint. The light carpet looked well -scrubbed though there were still a few stains. Her parent’s furniture and their boxes of random belongings seemed even more out of place here than they had in Grandma Cotton’s basement. The painting of the red barn and the horse was propped up against a blank wall, waiting to be hung. On the floor in the corner, her dad’s first carved box poked out the top of a cardboard box being held together with duct tape.

“It's not fancy,” Janelle said. “It actually reminds me of the first place your dad and I lived, only that apartment was on the third floor. I still remember how much I dreaded those stairs when I was pregnant with you. You were a big baby. My hips were never the same again. Not that I obsessed over it. Oh, Sweetheart. I'm sorry. You're upset, and here I am babbling on.”

Ginny brushed away a tear. She wanted her mom to say this wasn’t happening, or at the very least hug her, and tell her it was going to be okay.

“I was about to eat lunch. Are you hungry?”

“I don’t know.” Ginny followed her mom into the kitchen where the family’s old table filled the tiny dining space. There were boxes of kitchen utensils on the table and one cleared spot where Janelle had set a plate and cup.

Janelle moved a box from the table to the floor to make room for Ginny. “I’m having a hummus, tomato and cucumber sandwich. I’d be happy to make you one.”

Ginny shook her head, and stayed standing.

Janelle sat down in front of her half-eaten sandwich. “Your sister said that things got a bit wild last night.”

“I left early and missed most of the craziness. Bryn called this morning to tell me about it, and about you and dad. She’s pretty upset.”

“I know. I’m sorry about the timing, but this has been building up for a long time. Sit down Ginny, please. Let me try and explain.”

Ginny didn’t want to sit at the family table in a strange place. She stayed standing.

Janelle sighed. “I hope you girls can understand that the last thing I’d ever want is to hurt you. This is something that your dad and I have to work through on our own.”

Work through sounded a whole lot better than get divorced, but it wasn’t a good enough answer. “How can you work on a problem when you’re not even in the same house?”

“The house is part of the problem.”

“You mean Grandma is the problem?”

Janelle sighed again. “It’s not as simple as that. I’m not blaming your grandmother. I’m saying that the situation has to change. Trying to talk things out hasn’t worked. When you try the same thing over and over again and nothing changes, you’re forced to try something different.”

Her mother sounded tired, discouraged, and determined, all at once. Ginny sat down. She watched Janelle take a bite of her sandwich.

“You look hungry,” Janelle said.

“I think I’m hungry, but I’m not sure if food will make me feel better or worse.”

“You can start with half a sandwich and then decide if you want more.”

“Okay.”

While Janelle fixed her a sandwich, Ginny told her about the bachelorette party and drinking too much. “I left early, with Pierce, and everything would have been fine, but I slipped and said something I shouldn't have said. Now Pierce thinks I wasn't being honest with him, which is true, at least it was at first, but now I'm not sure. Why is it that when things are going well, I find a way to mess it up?”

“I don’t know Sweetheart, but you haven’t known him very long. If it’s meant to be, it will work out.”

Ginny didn't find this particularly helpful. She started on the sandwich. Half was all she could manage. Her cramps had worsened, so she lay down on the sofa to wait it out. Janelle pulled a DVD out of a box.

“What you need today, what we both need, is comfort.”

Comfort came in the form of The Princess Diaries and the sequel. It was nice to see someone getting their happy ending.

Ginny kept her phone close for the rest of the day hoping that Pierce would call or at least text. He didn’t.

At eight-thirty, already in bed for the night, she sent him a text asking if six o'clock would work for dinner on Sunday. He gave a one-word answer. Yes.

 There was no exclamation mark, or smiley face, or anything else to indicate that things were okay between them. It seemed silly now that she'd made a goal to have sex before Jason did, even sillier than sending Pierce that text in the first place.

****

When she arrived at the Cotton farm on Sunday, Ginny found her grandmother on a ladder ten feet above the ground, painting the side of the house.

Ginny stood at the base of the ladder, shielding her eyes from the bright sun. “Uh, Grandma, shouldn’t Dad being doing that?”

“Don't be ridiculous. The man has terrible balance. Always has. Besides, he has plenty of other things to do. What your mother calls, “puttering” is also called farm work. When Walt is no longer here to keep up with things, I’ll have to sell this place and move into town.”

“Is that what you want?”

“No, but it has to happen eventually. I can't expect my son to live here forever and keep doing his father's old jobs. Walt needs to find a paying job. I do wonder, though, how your mother can complain about me having old fashioned views about gender roles and then get her panties in a bunch because she has to be the main breadwinner in the family. It's not as if your dad is planting his butt in front of the tele—what are you giggling about?”

“Sorry, it’s not funny, except for the panties in a bunch part.”

“Doesn't anyone use that expression anymore?”

“Not much,” Ginny said, not willing to admit that it was hearing her grandmother say it that had made her laugh. “I just wish everything would go back to normal.”

“Normal is nothing but a setting on the dryer. I saw that one on Facebook.”

Ginny smiled. “Are you planning to paint the whole house?”

“I want to get this side done before the wedding. This is what everyone will see.”

There were trees on the other side of the house.

Ginny didn’t see her dad’s truck or his motorcycle. “What’s Dad doing?”

“He went to the store to pick up more paintbrushes. He’s also taking his motorcycle to your friend’s shop for a new clutch.”

“Getting it ready to sell, I hope.”

“That’s what he says, but without your mother here to recite statistics on motorcycle deaths per year, he might have a little fun with it first.” Grandma Cotton climbed down off the ladder. “I’m glad you’re here. He’s feeling down about your mother. If you ask my opinion, women expect too much from their men these days. Men are simple creatures. They're willing to put in a good day's work, and in return, they should be rewarded with a good meal and a warm body at the end of the day.”

“I hope they’re not that simple,” Ginny said. “I like to think there’s more to a man than work, food, and sex.”

“There is. They need to have a bit of fun once in a while too, and not get nagged about every little thing. The trouble is women want men to read their minds and know what they want, listen to idle chitchat and be romantic.”

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting decent conversation and a little affection, is there?” Ginny asked.

“Cotton men are not touchy-feely types.”

Grandma Cotton was not ready to give an inch. She’d never admit that any of this was Walt’s fault. Janelle was always the bad guy. No wonder her mother needed to escape.

“I’m going to put my clothes in the washer and then come help you,” Ginny said.

“Good. Your sister is working today. Your dad and I could use another pair of hands.”

Ginny had just finished putting her clothes in the dryer when her dad got home. He greeted her with a rare hug and then started right in talking about whipping the yard into shape for Bryn’s big day. He didn’t mention her mother, but the hug told Ginny that he was thinking about her, feeling far more than he’d ever say out loud. 

****

Spaghetti with handmade meatballs, garlic bread, red wine and salad with full-fat dressing—Ginny had gone all out, even lit candles as if they were in a fancy restaurant. This was only going to make it harder for Pierce to tell her what he'd come here to say.

“This is delicious,” Pierce said.

“Thank you,” Ginny said.

For a couple of minutes, neither spoke. He noticed that Ginny was sitting up straighter than usual, focusing on every bite as if she were afraid the food would fall off of her fork.

“I hear my dad brought his motorcycle to your shop today.”

Pierce nodded. “We talked. He told me about losing his business and asked if he could put up a flyer for his pet urns on our bulletin board.”

“He did?”

“Yeah, I told him it was fine.”

“Don't be in any big hurry to fix his bike. Motorcycles are dangerous, and he's too old to ride.”

“I know plenty of men older than your dad who ride and enjoy it.”

“And how many men do you know who’ve been in accidents?”

“Too many. I’ve known two people who died on motorcycles, one man, and one woman. I’d known Billy since middle school. He was a good friend.”

“I’m sorry,” Ginny said. “That’s terrible. I don't understand why someone would choose to do something so dangerous.”

“Life without risk isn't truly living.”

“Dying isn’t living, either.”

“I get what you’re saying Ginny, but try to see it from your dad’s point of view. The man lost his business, he lost his house, and now he's losing his wife. You can bet he's not feeling too good about himself. Having the women in his life tell him to give up his motorcycle, so that he won't get hurt, isn't going to help.”

“Because it means we love him and don’t want him dead?”

“No, because it’ll make him feel---” he cut himself off afraid that she wouldn't get it, or worse, that she would, and she’d make fun of him for saying it.

“Feel what?”

Pierce shook his head.

“Come on. I want to know what you were going to say.”

Less like a man is what he wanted to say. “Riding is his fun. A guy’s got to have some fun.”

“Well, I wish he’d find a less dangerous form of fun.”

When they'd finished eating, they moved to the sofa. Ginny's hand came to rest on his leg. He knew it was time to stop procrastinating and tell her what he'd come here to say. “So uh, there's something I need to tell you.”

“Okay.” She already looked leery.

“I told you about Desiree. I didn’t tell you about Trina. I think I should so that you’ll understand.”

“Understand what?”

“That’s what I’m going to explain.”

Ginny moved her hand from his leg. “Go on.”

“Trina and I went out for four months. I thought it was for real. I brought her to dinner at my dad’s house for our birthday. She uh, well there’s no reason to give you the details. She liked my dad—or more likely, his mansion and his Mercedes—and she made a play for him. It seems she thought he might be ready to replace Charmaine with someone younger.”

“You’re kidding. That’s awful.”

“I didn’t believe my dad at first. I didn’t want to believe it. I said things I couldn't take back, screwed things up between us even worse than they already were.”

“No wonder you and your dad have problems.”

He hadn’t started this to talk about his dad. Pierce took a deep breath. “Here’s the thing. It’s kind of a pattern with me, getting with women who have ulterior motives. When I saw your text asking for one night, I knew I should say no, but I didn’t.”

“You’re comparing me to Desiree and Trina?”

“No, you're not like either of them except for the wanting something part. That first night, I got the feeling that maybe you were looking for more than sex, and that's why I kept seeing you. Now that I know how you feel about Jason…”

“I’m over Jason.”

Hearing the edge in her voice, he proceeded cautiously. “You've known Jason for a long time. You've only known me for a few weeks. You can't be sure that you're over him. I think we should take things slow, be friends first and see how that goes.”

“Friends?” Ginny’s voice rose dangerously high.

“By friend I mean—”

“Do you think I don’t know what friend means? I am the queen of friend! It means we can hang out and be buddies without commitment, or without any of that sexual stuff because you don't like me in that way. I don't need another male friend. Either we're together, or we're not. If we’re not then you need to leave.”

He didn’t want to leave. He wanted her to understand. He wanted her to stop talking. He kissed her.

Pierce felt Ginny's hands on his shoulders, and for a second he thought she was pushing him away, and maybe she was, but then her arms were around his neck, and she was kissing him with a fierceness that stunned him. He could feel the emotions coursing through her; anger and frustration, lust, and maybe even the other L word.

Pierce forgot everything else, even what brought this on, because the passion was all that mattered. It wasn't long before they were lying down. Her hands were on him, and he loved having her hands on him almost as much as he loved touching her. He had one hand under her shirt and was mentally cursing her bra, thinking there should be a law about bra hooks--- they should always be in the front--- when she pulled away and looked in his eyes.

“Friends?” Ginny said, with what seemed to be a combination of hurt, disbelief, and disgust.

“I didn’t mean it the way you think,” he lied, his hand still on her breast.

“Then what was that little speech all about?”

Pierce sighed. “I don't want to play games or be part of your goal. I don't want to be your second choice. If we’re going to be together, it has to be for real.”

“That’s what I want too.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He kissed her again. It started out soft, but the urgency quickly returned. He was going for the button on her pants when she moved his hand away.

“I’m sorry. I can’t. It’s, you know, my period.”

“Oh. Are you sure? I don't mean are you sure of course you’re sure, I just mean…” What the hell did he mean? He was babbling like an idiot.

“It’s…it would be…no.” Ginny was breathing hard, and her cheeks were flushed, and he knew that 'no' hadn't come easy.

(This photo is relevant to the chapter I swear!)

Ginny exchanged several texts with Jason on Friday. He’d gone to work and claimed to be feeling a little better. Pastor John had invited him to dinner that night. He wasn’t sure if he was going or not. Ginny tried to convince him that he should. When Jason asked her not to mention any of this to Bryn, Ginny assured him that of course she wouldn't, and then felt guilty for agreeing so readily. She didn’t feel good about keeping things from her sister.

Normally, she would have dove into her work and forgotten everything else, but it was a slow afternoon, no client appointments, just paperwork that she couldn't seem to focus on. Thinking about the bachelorette party didn't help. She'd driven to work today instead of taking the bus so that she could go straight to Bryn's apartment afterward. When her cell phone rang, she was surprised to see that it was Jason. They didn't usually call each other at work, only sent texts. She answered.

“My mom is in the hospital.”

“Oh no, what happened?”

“She was at church volunteering when she started having chest pains. I’m on my way to the hospital now.” 

“Have you told Bryn yet?”

“I don't want to ruin Bryn’s party if it turns out to be a false alarm.”

She started to say that Bryn would want to be with him at a time like this, but then it hit her, she was the one Jason had called because she was the one he needed right now. “What hospital?”

“Ginny, you don’t have to come.”

No way was she going to let him deal with this by himself. “What hospital?”

He told her.

“I’ll call you when I get there.”

Ginny told her boss that she had to leave a little early due to a family emergency, which wasn’t exactly a lie. Jason was only a week away from being her brother-in-law. She was out of the building in ten minutes, and at the hospital in thirty-five. She found Jason in the hospital lobby, tugging on the waistband of his pants, which were sliding down. Ginny walked right into his arms. Something sharp poked her hip. She pushed him away. “What is that?”

“Oh, sorry. It’s Jesus.” Jason pulled a crucifix out of his pocket.

“What the heck is he doing in your pants?”

“My mom asked me to bring it. I felt conspicuous carrying him through the hospital.” 

“I think he would have been a little less conspicuous in your hand, than in your pants. Do you know what room she’s in?”

“Yes.” Jason started toward the elevators.

When they reached Evelyn's door, Jason stared at it, not making any move to open it. Ginny opened it and nudged him forward. Evelyn looked tiny under the white sheet. Jason went to her, took her hand.

“How are you feeling, Mom?”

“In need of comfort.”

Jason handed her the cross. She held it close to her chest and began whispering prayers. For a whisper, the words were strategically loud. She prayed to God to let her live long enough to see her son married, and her grandchildren born. After a few minutes of this, Evelyn put the cross back in his hands. “Set it on the table please.”

“I hoped you’d bring Bryn.” Evelyn barely glanced at Ginny.

Ginny guessed that she was still in the doghouse for her antics with Peter.

“She couldn't get away from work,” Jason said.

A lie, so smooth that even Ginny would have believed it if she hadn’t already known the truth.

There was a knock on the door, followed by the appearance of a doctor. She introduced herself as Dr. Ping, shook Jason's hand and explained that Evelyn hadn't had a heart attack, but her heartbeat was irregular. There was talk of more tests and keeping her overnight for observation. It certainly sounded real to Ginny, not some ploy of Evelyn's to get attention.

When the doctor was gone, Evelyn closed her eyes, holding tightly to Jason’s hand. “You’re all I have in this world. I’ve failed you.”

“Don't say that, Mom.”

“I tried my best to protect you, but it wasn’t enough. Remember how we prayed and prayed—”

“Don't.” Jason pulled his hand away and strode out of the room.

Stunned, Ginny didn’t know what to do. Evelyn’s eyes were closed. She began to pray again. Nothing, there was nothing she could do. Ginny stepped out of the room and found Jason pacing in the hallway.

“What are doing? You can’t walk out on your mother.”

“Sometimes I just can't…I can't listen to her. Come on I'll walk you to your car.”

They walked down the hallway in silence and got into the elevator. Ginny waited for Jason to say something. Instead, he stared at the flyer on the elevator door. It was a number for a hotline to call in cases of domestic abuse. The elevator came to a stop. They walked through the lobby and into the parking lot.

“Are you all right?” Ginny asked when they reached her car.

“Don't tell Bryn about this, okay? Please?”

Ginny wasn’t sure what it was that he didn’t want her to tell Bryn. That his mother was in the hospital or that he’d just walked out on her? It didn’t matter, she decided. Things could not continue this way. “It isn’t fair of you to ask me to keep secrets from my sister, Jason. If there’s something going on with you that you’re not telling me—no, don’t tell me. Tell Bryn. Talk to her.”

He scratched his head, avoiding eye contact. “There’s nothing to tell. I don’t want her to worry, that’s all.”

He was lying. Why? She didn't want to know. It was better this way. She told herself this all the way to Bryn's apartment. Still, she didn't believe it.

The door to the apartment was open. The place was cleaner than she’d ever seen it. Bryn stood in the middle of the living room, surrounded by a small group of her friends, telling a story. Her back was to Ginny. She was holding her arms out to her sides for emphasis. “I’m not exaggerating, this woman was at least three hundred pounds, reeked of cigarettes, and was demanding to talk to the person in charge, which happened to be me at the moment because the night manager was late. You should have heard this woman going off. ‘I didn't pay nine bucks for a freaking hamburger—' Bryn made a puffing sound, ‘to die of freaking E— puff, puff—coli, because your idiot cook served me freaking pink meat.'"

“The lobby was packed, people were staring, and a couple who were waiting to be seated got up and left. I wanted to get rid of her fast, so I told her we'd get her a new burger free of charge. The bitch says, ‘I don't want another freaking burger. I want to talk to a manager—' So, I said the night manager would be here in a few minutes, and told her to take a seat, and what does she say? ‘I don't want a freaking seat. If I freaking—puff—get sick, I'm calling my freaking lawyer.' That's when I lost it. I turned to the hostess and said, ‘Why don't you bring this nice woman a cool drink and an oxygen tank?'”

Several people giggled.

“Did you really say that?” Britney asked.

“I did,” Bryn said. “Of course she said she was going to call the manager and report me.”

“You are so fired,” Carissa said.

“I’m not worried, customers who say that hardly ever do it.”

“I agree with Carissa,” Ginny said. 

Bryn spun around. Her eyes were already glossy from alcohol. “My boss loves me. I’ll tell her how awful that woman was, and she’ll be on my side.”

Ginny started to tell Bryn that she was living in a fantasy world if she thought her boss found her indispensable but bit her tongue. She did not want a repeat of the bridal shower. Arguing with Bryn beforehand had led to payback for Ginny later. “I brought your favorite cookies.”

Bryn lifted the foil off the plate, “Yum, I love oatmeal raisin. Thanks, Sis. So did you bring a lot of bills for Tex?”

“I am not sticking money in a strange man’s G-string.”

“Of course you are. You have to. It’s part of the fun. Tonight, everyone is going to have a blast, even you.”

Even you? Did she think that Ginny didn’t know how to have fun?

“I probably won't join in, but not because I don't want to. As soon as he gets close, my heart will start pounding like crazy. Imagine how embarrassing it would be if I fainted in front of everyone.”

“I’m not going to let that happen.”

Bryn took the cookies from Ginny’s hand, set them on the table with the crackers and cheese, picked up a pitcher and a plastic margarita glass and poured. “We have half an hour before Tex arrives, plenty of time to get you seriously relaxed.”

“I don't think getting drunk is the answer.”

“That’s because you’ve never tried it. You need to loosen up. You’re way too uptight.”

Ginny started to object to the word uptight, changed her mind, and instead took a sip. And then a full drink. “This is good.”

Bryn smiled.

“I’m just going to have one drink. There are probably a million calories in here.”

“You don't need to worry about calories. You look fine,” Bryn said.

“I’m trying to fit into the dress you picked out, remember?”

“Oh yeah. Well, you’ll just have to be extra careful from tomorrow until the wedding. Or you could drink so much that you throw it up later.”

She didn’t appear to be kidding. “No way am I going to drink that much.”

Ginny chatted with Callie and Britney for awhile and nibbled on crackers without cheese or dip. The moment she’d finished her margarita Carissa was there with the pitcher, refilling her glass. Ginny was feeling pretty good by the time Britney, who had been looking out the window every two minutes, announced, “Oh my God, Tex is here, and he's even hotter in real life!”

Carissa had already arranged folding chairs in a half circle around the room. While Tex got things set up for his show, everyone stood around the table eating and talking and pretending they weren't gawking. The man was worth gawking at: red flannel shirt with the sleeves cut off, big biceps, leather chaps, cowboy hat, and a gorgeous face. When he smiled his perfect white teeth gleamed.

Carissa came around and filled everyone’s glasses one more time before they took their places. Ginny sat on a folding chair, holding her drink in front of her like a shield.

Callie, who sat on Ginny’s left side, whispered, “I hope these breast pads hold up. If I start leaking, I’ll die of embarrassment.” 

Bryn got the seat of honor, a chair in the middle of the room. Her cheeks were bright red, and she was beaming. When the music started, Tex gave her his full attention. He danced around her, and in front of her, thrusting out his hips. She clearly loved every minute of it. When Tex tore off his shirt, they all cheered as if he’d scored the winning touchdown. His chest was smooth, his muscles well defined. Ginny wondered how many hours a week he had to spend in the weight room to get a body like that. She imagined him lying on a table with his chest covered in wax strips. Ginny covered her mouth with her free hand so that no one would hear her giggle.

Tex left Bryn to dance around the room with practiced moves.

Callie leaned in close and whispered, “Here it comes, he’s about to strip down to his banana hammock.”

The chaps came off in one swift, perfectly choreographed movement. There it was, a white G-string covering his—banana? Ginny laughed. Not a little giggle but a full-on laugh. Everyone was staring. Tears began to pour down her face. She wanted to stop, but couldn't.

Callie, giggling, grabbed Ginny by the arm and pulled her to her feet. “Sorry everyone, this is my fault.”

Ginny didn’t object to being dragged out of the room and into the bathroom. Callie sat her on the toilet lid. “You’ve got to get it under control Ginny. We’re missing the best part.”

“You mean the banana hammock?”

They both burst into fresh giggles. Ginny gasped for air. Finally, with great effort, she managed to stop laughing. She took a long drink of her margarita.

Callie took the drink out of her hand. “I think you’ve had more than enough.”

“It wasn’t the margarita,” Ginny said. “It was the whole banana hammock thing.”

“At least his G-string wasn’t yellow.”

Ginny giggled.

“Do not start again,” Callie said in a bossy mom voice. “Take deep breaths Ginny, slow, deep breaths.”

Ginny took a deep breath. And then another. She hiccupped. “Am I the only woman on the planet who thinks penises are funny?”

“Probably not, but you’re the only one I know who has ever admitted it.” Callie stood in front of the mirror adjusting her breast pads. “Damn, I’m leaking already. Nursing is the most natural and beautiful thing in the world, but right now I feel like a freaking dairy cow.”

“I’m sorry,” Ginny said, and this time she didn’t giggle.

“Here,” Callie handed Ginny a washcloth. “Your mascara is smeared. Wash your face we’re going back out there and enjoy the rest of the show, okay?”

“Maybe I should stay in here until it’s over.”

“No. Come on, we’re going back out.”

In the living room, Tex and his erect banana, which, thankfully, was still in its hammock, were performing for Carissa, humping the air and then moving between her thighs while the others cheered. Ginny had a strong suspicion that this stripper was not gay, but what did she know of such things? More than she’d known before yesterday, but not much more.

Carissa put a bill in the little velvet pouch attached to Tex’s G-string. Tex kissed her cheek and moved on. He was in front of Britney now, giving her the same treatment.

“I’m sitting out,” Callie said, adjusting her breast pad again, and giving Ginny a little push. “You should go sit down and take your turn.”

Ginny shook her head. “There's only one guy I want to play house with, and he wouldn't be caught dead in a G-string.”

“Play what with?”

“Never mind.” Ginny backed into the kitchen and stood behind the table, well out of reach of the bobbing banana, but with a full view of the show going on in the living room. Callie went with her. They tried not to giggle too much. 

When the show was over, and Tex had packed up his props and left, Bryn came over to Ginny and Callie with her hands on her hips. “I can’t believe you two. What was all that about?”

“It was my fault,” Callie said. “I made her laugh. Things got out of control.”

“You missed all the fun,” Bryn said. “Well, not all the fun, just the best part. Who wants to go dancing?”

“I do,” Ginny said.

“You can’t go to a club dressed like that,” Bryn said.

Ginny was still in her work clothes, a light green top, and tan pants. She’d planned to change after work but hadn’t had time after the trip to the hospital. “Maybe I could borrow something?”

“I’m sure I have something that will fit you,” Britney said.

Callie went home to feed her baby. Ginny let Britney dress her in something more appropriate.

Twenty minutes later they were ready to go out. Ginny wore a short skirt that Carissa said was too big for her, a tight, low- cut blouse borrowed from Britney, and a pair of Bryn's heels. Carissa helped her with her makeup. When it was done, Ginny called Pierce and told him where they were going. He said he’d meet her there, and Steele was coming too. When Ginny told everyone, Britney got excited by the prospect of meeting Pierce’s twin.

“Come on girls, let’s go!” Carissa said. “It’s party time and I don’t know about you all but Tex has put me in the mood for a man, and, when Carissa wants a man, she gets one.”

“With that dress it shouldn’t be a problem,” Bryn said.

Carissa wore a skin-tight white dress that barely covered her butt. She smoothed her hands over her slender hips and licked her lips. “Somewhere out there is a hot guy who has no idea how lucky he's about to get.”

Ginny wondered what the rest of them would be doing while Carissa was doing some lucky guy, as Carissa had agreed to drive, but it wasn’t a big worry. She was going to see Pierce, and the moment that was all that mattered.

****

The club was packed. Pierce was scanning the room for Ginny when Steele nudged his arm to get his attention. “Black girl with long legs.”

Pierce looked. She was about six feet tall, every inch supermodel gorgeous.

“Out of your league,” Pierce said.

“No one is out of my league.” Steele indicated a redhead in a skintight white dress. “Or her.”

Pierce watched the redhead for a moment, because she was hot, and then looked around for Ginny, the only woman he wanted to go home with tonight. He spotted Ginny on the dance floor with a tall, skinny, blond guy. She looked good in a tight shirt, short skirt, and high heels but dancing was clearly not her thing. Ginny barely moved her feet, either because the dance floor was too crowded, or because the shoes weren't comfortable. She didn't move her arms much either, and when she did, it was out of rhythm. He thought it was cute.

The song ended. A few people left the dance floor, including the redhead in the white dress. Steele followed her with his eyes, no doubt plotting his strategy. Ginny stayed on the dance floor. A slow song started. When Pierce saw the blond put his hands on Ginny’s hips, he made his way over.

Ginny's face lit up when she saw him, and she immediately stepped away from the blond, bumping into the guy behind her. The blond guy was focused on Ginny's chest, understandable considering how tight her shirt was. He reached for her arm to steady her, just as Pierce reached for her other arm. There was irritation in the other guy's eyes, but when Ginny wrapped her arms around Pierce's neck, and molded her body to his, the blond just shrugged and walked off the dance floor.

Pierce put his arms around Ginny. She smelled like strawberries and tequila. 

When the song ended, Ginny took his hand and led him to a table in a far corner. It was already occupied by two women. He guessed which one was Bryn, before Ginny introduced them. She was pretty, but a bit on the skinny side. Remembering the deck of cards Ginny had thrown at his chest, he made a mental note to tread carefully where Ginny’s sister was concerned. Britney was a short, cute, brunette with brown skin and curves in all the right places. He’d have been interested, if not for Ginny. Britney looked him over so thoroughly that he figured she didn’t know that he was seeing Ginny or didn’t care. It could be the alcohol. All three were clearly buzzed.

Ginny grabbed a drink off the table, took a sip, and held it out to him. “It’s a tequila sunrise and it’s really good. Try it.”

Pierce took a sip. It seemed a bit weak to him, but that was probably a good thing considering she’d had plenty already.

He noticed Britney giving Ginny a nudge.

Ginny pulled him back a step and put her mouth next to his ear. “I told Britney that you have a twin brother. She wants to meet him.”

Ah, now the intensity of Britney’s stare made sense. She was imagining what his brother would look like.

Pierce motioned to the dance floor. “He’s out there somewhere. So how was Tex?”

Britney giggled.

Ginny turned away, her already pink cheeks darkening a shade.

“She didn’t let the guy get anywhere near her,” Bryn said. “When he stripped to his G-string Ginny went into hysterics. She laughed so hard I thought she’d wet her pants. She probably gave the poor guy a complex.”

“Ginny, what did we talk about? You weren’t going to do that again.”

“I couldn't help it. My cousin called it a banana hammock.”

“Don’t tell me she’s done that to someone else.” Bryn looked directly at Pierce’s crotch.

“It wasn’t my fault,” Ginny said, burying her face in his shoulder.

“How many drinks have you had?” Pierce asked.

Ginny shook her head.

“My fault,” Bryn said. “She was being prudish about the stripper so I figured a couple of drinks would help her loosen up.”

Prudish? Liking Bryn too much wasn’t going to be an issue for him.

Ginny’s hand moved from his shoulder to the middle of his chest. “I don’t want to dance anymore. These shoes are too small. I’m getting a blister. Will you take me home?”

“Yes.”

Bryn and Britney made a few half-hearted objections to Ginny leaving so early, but Ginny insisted that she was ready to go. Pierce found Steele and told him that he was taking Ginny home. Steele would have to take a cab home unless he found another way.

In the car, Ginny talked too fast, telling him about Jason’s mom being in the hospital and Jason acting funny and not wanting her to tell Bryn. She told stories about the party and the banana hammock, how silly it all was, and said something about her cousin and breast pads.

When they got to her apartment, Ginny snuggled up to him on the sofa. Snuggling quickly led to kissing. After a few minutes, she abruptly stood up and announced that she had to pee. She stumbled on her way back to the sofa, and she wasn’t even wearing the heels anymore. Instead of sitting back down she held out her hand.

It was an invitation to go into the bedroom, an invitation he couldn't accept, as much as he wanted to.

Pierce stood up. “I think I should go.”

“Go? What do you mean, go? You just got here.”

He pulled her close. “I’d like to stay, but you’ve had a little too much to drink.”

“But I feel fine. I feel better than fine. A few drinks will make it easier to go all the way.”

“That’s exactly why we’re not going to do anything tonight.”

“But I want to.”

“Then you’ll want to again when you’re sober.”

“We can’t wait too long. I only have a week left to reach my goal.”

“Goal?” A warning went off in his head, but he kept his voice even. “What goal is that, Ginny?”

An odd look crossed her face. “Nothing, it was nothing.”

“Come on, you can tell me.”

“It’s stupid. I changed my mind about it. I don't even know why I said that.” She buried her face in his neck.

Pierce stroked her hair. “If this goal is about us having sex, I think you should let me in on it, don’t you?”

“I have to do it before the wedding. Before Jason does.”

He tried to keep his tone light. “Why? Are you two having a contest?”

“No. Jason doesn't know. He never knew, never had a clue that I was waiting for him.”

A sick feeling rose up in his belly. “You were waiting for Jason?”

He felt her nod against his neck.

“That’s what this whole thing was about then?” He lifted her chin, making her look at him. “You’re in love with Jason?”

“No. You’re the one I want.”

“You mean you want to have sex with me?”

“Yes.”

Ginny tried to kiss him. He stepped back. “I don’t think so.”

“Wait. You’re mad. Why are you mad?”

“Go to bed Ginny.” Pierce made his way to the door, pausing only to make sure it was locked before he went out.

(Until next time, wishing you all a Happy Day!)

I started a new Substack over a month ago when I was feeling the urge to write non fiction. It's taken me awhile to decide on a focus. I considered memoir, and there will be some of that, but what I care about most are other women's stories—true and fictional.

I hope you’ll join me on this new adventure!

(For those of you who are reading Playing House the next chapter will be released tomorrow! If you celebrate Thanksgiving— or just like turkey—you can crash on your couch and read while enjoying your tryptophan coma!)

People Worth Writing About

Expect uplifting posts about the lives and accomplishments of amazing women.

By TJ Patton

(Sorry to be a day late with this. I’ve come down with some kind of virus. Ugh. I hope you all are well!)

Ginny had just finished making the cookie dough when Bryn called to tell her not to get carried away with snacks. A couple of the Cotton cousins had bailed at the last minute, and Bryn’s high school friend had found something better to do. There were only going to be six people total. Britney was on a diet and didn’t want a bunch of cookies in the house. Ginny didn’t either. What to do with all this extra dough? She could freeze it, but that wouldn't solve the problem of having this kind of temptation in her apartment. She was planning to make the cookies and take some to Jason and Peter when a better idea came to her.

All day long, she’d been thinking about Pierce. She’d enjoyed watching him with his nephew, seeing how good he was with the little guy. She’d liked the way he’d treated her when she’d gotten overheated. Then there was the kissing lesson. She'd liked that too. Ginny wanted to see him again soon. Now, even. The cookies were a good excuse to get him here. She sent Pierce a text telling him that he was welcome to stop by after work and get some cookies for himself and to share with Caleb and Steele. She checked her phone every five minutes for nearly an hour before finally getting a response. He was working late, but cookies sounded great. He'd be over around eight.

At ten minutes to eight, Ginny heard a knock on her door and assumed that it was Pierce. Instead, she found Jason.

“Sorry, I didn’t call first. I just came from my mom’s house. You said that if I wanted to talk…”

“Of course, anytime.” Except now. Ginny closed the door behind him.

“Do I smell cinnamon?”

“I’m baking for the bachelorette party tomorrow. Oatmeal cinnamon raisin cookies are in the oven.”

Jason’s hand hovered near his belly. His face lost its color.

“You’d better sit down.”

He kicked off his shoes, lay down on her sofa and closed his eyes.

Ginny sat on the love seat and waited, legs crossed, knee bouncing rapidly. Pierce was going to be here any minute.

“My mom asked me about the beer bottles. I lied and told her they weren’t mine. I told her I never drink. I lied to my mother as if I was a teenager afraid of getting in trouble.”

“We all told our parents little fibs when we were teenagers.”

“Sure, because we didn’t want to get grounded. Adults shouldn't feel like they have to lie to their parents. Isn’t that what it means to be a grown-up?”

“No,” Ginny said, thinking of her first evening with Pierce and how she would never admit to her mother that she’d gone home with him on a first date, or what she’d planned to do. “I’m not saying we should lie to our parents, but we don't have to tell them everything.”

“I told her too much yesterday. I wish I could take it back.”

“Did you stick with Peter’s story about Hank or did you tell her the truth, that Peter is gay?”

“Because of the way you were acting with Peter, I couldn't tell her the truth.”

There was no mistaking the irritation in his voice.

“I was trying to help. If your mom had seen the words Gay Pride on his shirt, she would have said something awful to him.”

“She was awful anyway. What we did only made it worse, hiding Peter as if he were something shameful.”

Ginny had to restrain herself from pointing out that not so long ago, Jason too, would have considered Peter’s sexual orientation to be shameful, or at least wrong.

“What did you say to her?”

The buzzer on the oven went off. Ginny jumped up and went into the kitchen. She took the cookies out, put the next batch in, reset the timer and went back to the love seat. Jason’s eyes were still closed, his hands folded on his chest as if he were lying in a coffin. She felt like she should have a clipboard and a pen on her lap. She didn’t have fifty minutes for Jason’s therapy session.

“I didn't sleep at all last night. I got up to go to work and realized that I wouldn't be able to accomplish anything. I called in sick. I still couldn't sleep so I went downtown and walked around for a while and ended up at the bookstore. I know it sounds crazy, but I had this feeling that eventually I'd find the right book, and the answer would be inside, and everything would make sense. Have you ever felt that way?”

“Uh, no actually, I haven’t.”

“It happened, except it wasn't one book, it was several books. Ideas started flowing and instead of being tired I felt all wound up, which sometimes happens when I go too long without sleep. One day and I’m just tired, two and I get a bit whacky.”

“You went two whole nights without sleep?”

“Yes. I knew I should have slept before I told anyone what I was thinking, but my mom called, and she wanted me to come for dinner. I should have told her no.”

“Yes, you should have. I’ve read that driving without sleep is almost as bad as drunk—” Ginny heard her mother’s voice coming out of her mouth. Horrified, she couldn't finish the sentence. Jason didn’t seem to notice.

“I went a little crazy and told her what I was thinking. Of course, she freaked out.”

Ginny heard the rumble of a motorcycle. She jumped to her feet. “Pierce is here.”

Jason opened his eyes. “How do you know?”

“I heard his motorcycle. I'm sorry, I really do want to know what's going on with you, but I'll have to call you after Pierce leaves.”

“I get to meet your boyfriend?”

“He’s not my boyfriend. We’re barely dating.”

“I get to meet your guy friend?”

“Unless you can get down the stairs and to your car without him seeing you.” Ginny tapped her foot impatiently.

Jason’s tired eyes widened. “You’re kidding, right?”

The engine died. It was too late for that now. “Of course I’m kidding. Sit up. I don’t want you lying down when he comes in.”

Ginny brushed flour from the front of her shirt. “You should put your shoes on too.”

“You’re throwing me out, for real?”

“I’m not throwing you out. After I introduce you, you can make small talk for a minute or two, and then say you have to get going.”

“I’ve never seen you like this. You really like this guy, don’t you?”

“Focus, Jason. Shoes. On.”

Ginny heard Pierce’s boots on the stairs. She started in the direction of the door but stopped halfway there. Jason had one shoe to go.

“Should I shake his hand?” Jason asked as he put on his other shoe.

“No. Yes. I don’t know. Do what feels right.”

Ginny heard the knock. The timer on the oven went off.

“I’ll get the door,” Jason said.

“No, I’ll get the door. You get the cookies.”

Ginny opened the door. Pierce wore faded jeans with a worn through spot on his left thigh, a black T-shirt, and the motorcycle jacket. He held his helmet under one arm and a six pack of beer in the other hand. Unshaven jaw, a smudge of grease on one cheek— he’d never looked hotter.

“Hey.”

The tender way he spoke the word and his little smile, was all it took—Ginny felt a powerful urge to drag him to her bed.

“Jason is here. He just stopped by.”

Jason, both hands covered with cow oven mitts, was setting the tray of cookies on the counter. He smiled. “Hi.”

Why, oh why, did Jason have to come over tonight?

“Hey.” Pierce’s voice sounded deeper and manlier than when he talked to Ginny. He held up a beer.

Jason looked ready to accept, glanced at Ginny, and wisely changed his mind. “No thanks. I should get going.”

Pierce draped his jacket over the back of a chair. “Cinnamon? I was hoping for chocolate chip.”

“I’m making both. I started with cinnamon oatmeal raisin.” Ginny scooped two cookies off the first tray and onto a plate. She handed the plate to Pierce.

“I’ve never been a fan of raisins.”

“Oh. You can wait for the chocolate chip then.”

“I’ll try one.” Pierce reached for the plate.

“If you don’t like raisins, you don’t like raisins.” Ginny pulled the plate out of his reach. The cookies flew off and landed on the floor.

“Oops,” Ginny said.

Pierce picked up the cookies. “I’m going with the five- second rule.” 

“It wouldn’t matter if they’d been there all day,” Jason said. “Ginny keeps her floor clean enough to eat off of.”

“I have noticed that this place always smells like cleaner,” Pierce said, with a mouthful of cookie. “This is delicious.”  

“You don’t have to lie,” Ginny said. “If you don’t like raisins you don’t like raisins.”

Pierce moved closer, his hand coming to rest on her lower back, his lips brushing her cheek. “For you, I’ll eat raisins.”

Ginny rolled her eyes and pulled away, but not too far. She liked his hand on her back.

Jason began moving the fresh batch of cookies to the cooling rack. “You’re making a lot. How many women are going to be at this party, anyway?”

“Six,” Ginny said. “Bryn wanted me to bring the cookies. I doubt anyone’s going to be interested in food.”

“Not once Tex arrives,” Jason said.

“Tex?” Pierce asked.

“The exotic dancer,” Jason said. “He wears a cowboy hat and chaps, but I doubt he’s ever been within three feet of a horse. He looks like he spends eight hours a day at the gym and another hour getting waxed.”

“You saw him?” Ginny asked.

“Bryn showed me his photo on the website,” Jason said.

“I’ve heard those guys are all gay anyway,” Pierce said.

“I’ve heard that too,” Jason said.

Ginny felt as if the two were siding against her. “It doesn’t matter if he’s gay or straight. What matters is how he looks.”

“You’ve never seen a stripper before, have you?” Pierce asked.

“No,” she admitted.

“It isn’t just about how they look. To get the big tips, they do plenty of touching.”

“I thought there was a no touch rule.” Ginny wasn’t sure where she’d heard this, television probably.

“That rule only goes one way,” Pierce said. “He’ll make the rounds doing whatever he has to, to get women to slip bills into his G-string.”

“Well, he won't be getting any of my money.” Ginny was intensely aware of Pierce's proximity, the heat of his hand on her lower back, and Jason watching them.

“Are you having a bachelor party?” Pierce asked.

“Yes. Saturday. It’s going to be a small get together, good food, good beer, good friends, no strippers or anything. Ginny’s coming. You should come too.”

Pierce nodded in a noncommittal, polite sort of way.

“I should go,” Jason said after a few seconds of awkward silence.

“Nice meeting you,” Pierce said.

Ginny walked Jason to the door.

“Have fun with Tex tomorrow. Don’t forget to take plenty of bills.”

“I’m not putting money in a man’s G-string. I’ll leave that to Britney and Carissa. Drive safely, and sleep tonight, okay?”

“I’ll try. I don’t know if I can.”

“Think positive. You can. You will,” Ginny closed the door. 

“So that was your best friend,” Pierce said.

“Yes.”

“And he’s marrying your sister?”

“Why did you say it like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you don't believe it.”

He shrugged. “No reason.”

“There has to be a reason.”

He shook his head. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s something.”

“I don't want to say it because I’m getting the feeling you’ll be mad at me if I do.”

“Now I’m going to be mad at you if you don’t say it, whatever it is.”

“Fine, I’ll say it. He seems kind of gay to me. Not that I have a problem with gays.”

“Jason is not gay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.” Ginny scooped a blob of cookie dough onto a spoon and dropped it onto the still-hot cookie sheet. “I did consider the possibility back in high school because he didn’t date or talk about girls much, but Jason has always said that he wanted to get married in his mid-twenties. There’s been no reason for him to get involved with anyone until now.”

“You’re saying he didn’t see the point of dating until he was ready for marriage?”

“Exactly. Jason doesn’t believe in premarital sex. He’s waiting.”

“Really? I don’t know whether to be impressed or…”

“Or what?”

Pierce shook off whatever he almost said. “I know there are people who think it’s wrong in theory, but I didn’t know that anyone actually waited.”

“I’m sure lots of people wait.” Ginny continued dropping dough onto the cookie sheet. “Mormons wait. Some Catholics do. Some Christians do too. I’m sure it’s not nearly as unusual as you think. It does not mean that they are gay.”

“You’re getting upset.”

“I am not getting upset.” Ginny put the next scoop of dough down more gently. “If Jason were gay I would know it. And he wouldn't be marrying my sister.”

She put the cookies in the oven. “What made you think that, anyway?”

Pierce shrugged, “I don't know. Maybe it was the cow oven mitts.”

“My grandma gave me these oven mitts.” She held up the hand wearing a mitt.

“They’re nice oven mitts.” He put his arms around her. “Downright sexy.”

“Sexy oven mitts?”

“Only because they’re on you.”

She took off the mitt and put her hands on his shoulders. “I’m not sure how I feel about you thinking that a woman in the kitchen baking is sexy.”

“You’re not going to go all feminist on me are you?”

Ginny considered. “No. I’ll take sexy any way I can get it.”

He kissed her. Soon Pierce’s hands were all over her, under her shirt, stroking her back, and then her breasts through her bra. She closed her eyes, swaying a little, enjoying his touch.

“Play House with me,” Pierce said.

“Which version, and by what rules?”

“How about Naked House?”

“If we pretend without clothes on, then we wouldn't be pretending would we?”

“We could make it real this time Ginny, no pretending.”

The seductive tone of his voice and the way he looked at her brought her to the edge of saying yes. The backs of his fingers brushed against her cheek, and Ginny felt the first flutter of anxiety in her chest. She stepped back lowering, her eyes.

“Or we could play your way,” Pierce said quickly. “You make the rules, and I'll follow them.”

Ginny’s heart rate began to slow. “I’m okay with the naked version, as long it’s touching only.”

“Are there any places that are off limits?”

Ginny shook her head.

“I can work with that. Should we go in the bedroom?”

“Yes.”

Ginny went to the bathroom first. She started to think. Thinking led to worrying. Was this the right decision? The right time? The right guy? What if she got pregnant? She’d once read about a teenager who got pregnant without going all the way. The guy’s penis got too close, and one of his little critters swam right in.

Ginny took a deep breath. She looked in the mirror. “You are not going to get pregnant Ginny. Nothing bad is going to happen. Stop worrying and play the game.”

She found Pierce in the bedroom. He'd taken off his boots. And his shirt.

“Is everything okay?”

“Of course. Why wouldn't it be?”

“You were gone awhile. I thought I heard talking.”

Ginny put her hands on his bare shoulders. “Everything is fine Richard. It's Friday, and we always have sex on Friday nights.”

“No,” Pierce said.

“What do you mean no?”

“We don’t save sex for weekend nights or special occasions. Only boring old married couples do that. We have sex whenever the mood hits, even if it’s the middle of the afternoon or three in the morning.”

“Okay, so it's Friday night, and I was baking cookies for the kid's class snack, and the mood hit.” Ginny took off her blouse and set it on a chair.

“We don't have kids.” Pierce took off his jeans, leaving his boxer briefs on. “You were baking cookies for your friend’s bachelorette party and got turned on talking about the stripper.”

Ginny took off her pants, set them on the chair. “Wouldn't it bother you that I got excited by another man?”

“Not as long as I'm the one you---I won't say fuck because you don't like the F-word.”

“I don’t.” Ginny reached behind her back and undid her bra.

“Melissa likes it when I talk dirty to her. She says it keeps sex from getting boring.”

“You don’t get to decide what Melissa likes.” She finished removing her bra and dropped it on the chair.

“Melissa---” Pierce’s gaze locked on her chest, “---has beautiful breasts.”

“Yes, and she appreciates you using the proper word rather than---Melissa is starting to sound like a terrible prude isn’t she?”

Pierce didn’t answer. He kissed her. It wasn’t soft or tender this time. It was hard, insistent, and demanding. No, not demanding exactly, more like fierce. Or was fierce too strong of a word? Why was she thinking about word choice at a time like this? She should be focusing on the way it felt to be kissed, to be skin to skin with this attractive man.

“I’m going to find out what Ginny likes,” Pierce said in a low, sexy voice.

The words caused hot lava to flow---no, not lava why was she thinking in bad metaphors? Stop thinking Ginny, stop thinking.

A buzzing sound filled her ears. Ginny took a step back. “The cookies are done. I need to get them out of the oven.”

“I’ll get them.” Pierce nudged her toward the bed and darted out of the room.

Ginny pushed the comforter and sheet aside and lay down. Should she take her underwear off or leave them on? On. It was his job to remove them, that’s how it worked in every fantasy. Jason always took them off slowly, while the faceless mystery man would tear them off.

Pierce was back. How had he taken the cookies out so fast? Doesn't matter, doesn't matter. His beard felt rough on her sensitive skin. When his mouth closed around a nipple, it was pure heaven. No, not heaven, that word made her think about God, which made her think about Jason and waiting for marriage.

“It isn't wrong to not wait,” Passionate Ginny said. “You deserve this.”

“You should at least be in a committed relationship,” Sensible Ginny said.  

We're Melissa now not Ginny, so you both need to shut the hell up and go away!

It worked for once. Ginny focused on the kissing and the touching. When Pierce moved over her, onto her, his hips fit perfectly between her thighs. They still had their underwear on. Ginny stroked his lower back with both hands and then went lower, slipping her hands under the cotton, wanting to experience skin. After a bit, Pierce moved off of her. He stripped off the boxer briefs. Now they were getting somewhere. In another second he’d take off her bikini underwear and finally touch her.

A screech louder than the oven timer jolted them both upright.

“What is that?” Ginny cried, covering her ears.

“Smoke alarm. A loud one.” Pierce jumped up from the bed.

Ginny didn't mean to look, but his penis was right there erect and bobbing, and looking wildly out of place, which didn't make any sense since penises are supposed to be a part of the male anatomy. That's when she laughed. She didn't mean to. It just happened. Ginny quickly covered her mouth with her hand, but it was too late.

 Pierce darted out of the room. Ginny smelled smoke now, but all she could think about was the look on Pierce's face when she'd laughed. Now she'd done it, ruined everything by laughing when she shouldn't have laughed. It was over. He'd never forgive her.

That sound–make that God awful sound stop.

The alarm went silent. Where was he? What was taking him so long? He was probably running right out the door. No, he couldn't be, his clothes were in here. Should she go out there and apologize?

Pierce walked back into the bedroom.

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to laugh at your penis. It isn't funny. It's a nice penis. I’m ruining everything.”

“Ginny stop. Please.” Pierce didn’t look mad, but he wasn’t smiling either. He sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m not going to let you sabotage this again.”

“Is that what I’m doing?”

“It seems that way.”

She let out a slow, shaky breath. “Maybe you're right.”

“I’m right. We’re going to finish our game now okay?”

“Okay.”

“First, we’re going to take these off.” He hooked both index fingers under the sides of her underwear. “This is Naked House, and we have to play by the rules.”

“Yes,” she whispered.

He slid them all the way off and dropped them over the side of the bed.

Ginny closed her eyes and told herself to relax. Soon, Pierce was touching all the places that had been desperately in need of touching for a long time. One finger slipped inside of her, curving around to reach her G-spot, something she’d read about in a women’s magazine. Which one? Doesn’t matter, doesn't… “Oh…”

She moaned, and, finally, gave into it, no longer thinking about anything at all, just experiencing every incredible sensation, until she reached the big one.

When she’d caught her breath, Ginny turned her attention to Pierce, or more specifically to his penis. “How does this thing work?”

“Well, first off, he doesn't like being laughed at, or referred to as a thing.”

“He doesn't look offended to me,” Ginny said.

“He’s too happy to be offended.” Pierce reached for her hand, “Do you want to know how to make him even happier?”

“Yes. Show me how.”

****

Ginny stared at the blackened cookies. “When you went into the kitchen the first time, I thought you were taking the cookies out and turning the oven off.”

“That would have been the logical thing to do, but I wasn’t thinking logically. I just wanted to stop the noise, so I turned off the timer.”

“And left the cookies to burn.”

“Sorry.” Pierce proceeded to put the batteries back into the smoke alarm. “At least we know this works. And there’s not much chance of you sleeping through it.”

“No.” Ginny dumped the burned cookies into the trash. “The chocolate chip ones burned. I guess you don’t want any of the oatmeal raisin ones to take home.”

“I’ll take a few if you have extra. Steele will eat them. Caleb will too after he’s picked out all the raisins.”

It felt odd to be having a normal conversation after the intimacy they’d shared.  

Ginny’s phone alerted her to an incoming text. It was on the counter in front of Pierce. She watched him glance at the screen. “It’s from Jason.”

Ginny scooped some of the cookies into a plastic container.

“Aren’t you going to read it?” he asked.

“Not right now.”

“You’re going to wait until I leave?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“It's got to be about me. Best friend meets boyfriend---he's going to want to share his opinion.”

Boyfriend? She liked the way it sounded. He was probably right. The text likely was about him, or else it was about what she and Jason had been discussing earlier. She felt a twinge of guilt, remembering how serious the conversation had been when Pierce arrived, and her lack of attention to Jason. “It could be about Bryn or the bachelorette party, or the wedding, or chess club, or his mother, or just about anything.”

“Bet you a home cooked meal it’s about me.”

“Fine, it’s a bet.” She picked up the phone, read the one -word message, and laughed.

“What?”

“It’s nothing.”

“A funny nothing, apparently. So do I win?”

“Do you like spaghetti and meatballs? I use my grandmother’s recipe.” She was hoping to distract him, but he reached across the counter and picked up the phone.

Now he could see the single word on the screen.

“Scorching? That’s about me?”

“Yes. You have to understand the context. At the bridal shower, I sort of mentioned you. Bryn's friends wanted to know if you were hot, so I showed them your picture, and then Aunt Maureen wanted to see you so—”

“You passed me around the room?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Someone said I was scorching hot?”

Too embarrassed to meet his eyes, Ginny explained, “I may have used the word scorching when I was talking to my sister. When she saw your picture, she said that scorching was an exaggeration, so that's why he wrote that.”

“I’m not sure how I feel about Jason thinking I’m hot.”

Ginny came around the counter and handed him the cookies. “Then you shouldn’t have been so nosy.”

He kissed her. “If the bachelorette party ends early, and you want to get together afterward, call me. If it ends late, and you still want to get together, call me.”

“I will.” Ginny wished she could skip the party altogether and spend the whole evening with Pierce.

After he left, Ginny’s thoughts went back to Jason. She called him. Skipping over formalities, she got right to the point. “You never did tell me what you said to your mother that got her so upset.”

Silence.

“Jason?”

“I told her I don’t believe in God.”

“Oh. Oh boy, that’s big. Are you sure—”

“No.” He sighed. “I felt sure when I said it, but I’m not now. I said other things too. I sort of lost it, and went on a rant telling her that I’m fine with Hank being gay and I think she should be too because it’s his business, not ours and why should she care?”

“Wow.”

“It all felt clear this afternoon. It made sense.”

“It does make sense Jason, or at least it would if Hank were the one who is gay. How did your mom take this?”

“She immediately called Pastor John and asked him to help me through my crisis of faith. I’m going to meet with him tomorrow night.”

“You know that’s probably a good idea. You like your pastor. Maybe you’ll feel better after you talk to him, especially if you get a good night’s sleep first.”

“What I wish is that I could wake up tomorrow and be someone else.”

“You’re scaring me now.”

“Sorry. I'm exhausted.”

“Close your eyes, Jason. Go to sleep. We'll talk tomorrow.”

“The bachelorette party is tomorrow.”

“Then we’ll talk Saturday. I’ll come over early, before the bachelor party.”

“Okay.”

Ginny set the phone down. Jason was so not ready to get married. Short of standing up at the wedding and objecting to these two being joined in holy matrimony, Ginny had no idea what, if anything, she could do about it.

 (New photo today! What do you think?)

Chapter Nine

On Monday, Ginny went to the cemetery with a dozen or so of her closest relatives. They brought flowers for Grandpa Cotton, Ginny’s maternal grandparents, a great uncle who was killed in the Korean War, her mother’s cousin who died in childhood of cancer, and one of Ginny’s cousins who was killed in an avalanche while hiking on Mt. Hood. There was reminiscing and hugging and tears.

 Afterward, a bunch of them went back to Grandma Cotton’s for brunch. When everyone had gone home, Ginny found herself sitting alone with Grandma Cotton in the living room. They talked about Grandpa Ernie, and her grandma told a few stories, including one that Ginny hadn’t heard before. After a while, her grandma asked her about her date with Pierce.

“It wasn’t quite what I was expecting, but it worked out all right. Pierce is, well I don't know how to describe him. He’s not someone I would have imagined myself dating.”

“You mean he’s not like Jason?”

“Exactly. He's not like Jason and being with him is different than being with Jason, more exciting, less predictable, which I like, but at the same time, I've always imagined someone more like Jason for a long-term thing. Does that make sense?”

“It sounds like a case of Rhett vs. Ashley.”

“Who?”

“Rhett Butler and Ashley Wilkes.”

Ginny stared blankly.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never read Gone with the Wind.”

 “Oh, that Rhett. I’ve never read it.”

“You must have watched the movie, at least?”

“I’ve seen parts of it, but I’ve never actually sat down and watched it straight through. One of my college roommates wrote an essay about the book being racist and how they were supposed to make the movie less so, but failed miserably.”

“Racist?” Grandma Cotton waved the word away, “It was a whole different time, which we can’t possibly understand without having been there.”

“You don’t think it glamorizes slavery?”

Grandma Cotton stood up. “I have the movie on VHS. We'll watch it after dinner, and you can decide for yourself.”

VHS?

“I’d like to, Grandma, but I don't know if I have time. Jason and I are playing chess tonight.”

“We’ll start it now, then break for dinner, and finish it afterward.”

“Okay, I guess we can do that,” Ginny said because she couldn't refuse her grandma today, not when she was missing Ernie more than usual.

Partway through the movie, Janelle came in. “Why are you watching Gone with the Wind?

“Ginny’s never seen it.”

“I do love Clark Gable.”                         

Grandma Cotton pressed a finger to her lips and pointed to the screen. Janelle made a sound that conveyed annoyance and then sat down.

Later, Walt came in. “This movie? I admit it’s the best movie ever made about the Civil War but how many times do you have to—”

Grandma Cotton shushed him.

“But it's five thirty and dinner is always ready at—”

Janelle waved him out of the room. “Have some tortilla chips to tide you over.”

Walt sighed and walked out.

By the end of the movie, Ginny understood why people would be offended by the portrayal of slaves, some of whom didn't even have real names, just ‘pet' names.

She was about to say as much when Grandma Cotton spoke. “What did you think of Rhett Butler?”

“I have to admit, I’m sort of in love with him, but as for—”

“We all are.” Grandma Cotton patted her leg.

“We want the security and comfort of Ashley, but we crave the excitement and passion of Rhett,” Janelle said.

“In simple words, we want Ashley paying the bills and Rhett warming our beds,” Grandma Cotton said.

Ginny gave up on the idea of discussing the racial implications of the movie, as they seemed to have been lost on her mother and grandmother, who were focused on the love story. “Isn't there a way to combine the two and make the perfect man?”

“No,” Janelle said. “You find someone with the qualities that matter most to you and call it good.”

“Only if there’s chemistry,” Grandma Cotton said. “When I met your grandfather, sparks flew.”

“Yes, well, the fire goes out over time,” Janelle said. “What you need is a solid foundation.”

“Marriage is more than a good girdle,” Grandma Cotton said.

“A man should be your best friend,” Janelle said.

Grandma Cotton shook her head. “Best friends are for chit-chat and trading recipes. A husband’s job is to provide for his family.”

“You were so busy popping out babies in the sixties that you missed the whole women’s movement,” Janelle said.

“I’m not talking about equal pay. A few charred bras couldn’t change ten thousand years of biology. Men are still the same creatures they’ve always been.”

The door opened, and Ginny's dad stuck his head in. “It's six-thirty.”

Before either woman could react, Ginny jumped to her feet. “I'm going to have to skip dinner. I told Jason I’d be at his place by seven.”

“You have to eat something,” Grandma Cotton said.

“She’s not the only one who needs to eat,” Walt said.

“I’m trying to fit into the stupid dress that Bryn picked out, so I’ll just have a carrot or something.”

“It's not stupid. It's a pretty dress,” Janelle said.

“If it doesn't fit, it doesn't fit,” Grandma Cotton said. “You're not leaving without dinner.”

“I’ll grab a banana and eat it on the way,” Ginny said.

Ginny ate a carrot and a banana on the drive to Jason’s. It did not come close to satisfying her. The brain was a powerful organ. It controlled every other organ. All she had to do was tell her brain to convince her stomach that it was full, right?

“Stomach, you are satiated and satisfied.”

Her stomach grumbled in reply.

“Seriously, you are full. I’ve given you all the sustenance you need to get through the rest of the day.”

It occurred to Ginny that having a conversation with her stomach was a bit strange. She continued the discussion all the way to Jason's house. By the time she arrived, her stomach seemed to be convinced. That is until Jason opened the front door, and she was bombarded with the aroma of chicken and baked potatoes. 

“You’re cooking?”

“Peter is cooking,” Jason said. “You know me. I opened a can of chili and zapped it. Dinner in two minutes. Peter spends an hour in the kitchen almost every night.”

“Does he share?”

“Not unless I beg. Or do something for him.”

They were in the dining room now. Peter sat at the table with a plate of food, a newspaper open in front of him. His white tank top was open on the sides and covered very little. The words Gay Pride were written in big letters across the front, which reminded her that she still had the tank top he’d tossed her last time she was here.

“That looks delicious,” Ginny said.

“It is,” Peter said.

“I missed dinner tonight. My grandma made me watch Gone with the Wind.”

“That’s my mom’s favorite movie,” Peter said. “Clark Gable is so hot.”

“Yes,” Ginny said, trying not to drool over Peter’s food. “I’m in love with Rhett Butler.”

Peter looked up, nodding in understanding. “There’s another potato and some chicken on the stove. Help yourself.” 

Ginny remembered what Charmaine had said about starches. “Thanks. I’m cutting back, but one little piece of chicken sounds great.”

“What? No fair. You didn’t offer me any,” Jason said.

“You eat canned chili,” Peter said as if that were an explanation in itself.

Ginny smiled all the way to the chicken. She sat down at the table, took a bite and declared it delicious.

“Do you think the movie is racist?” Ginny asked.

Peter started to answer but was interrupted by a knock at the door. He turned to Jason. “I’m not expecting anyone.”

“Me neither.”

Jason went to answer it.

“Mom, hi, what are you doing, uh, way out here? I mean, you never come to Portland.”

“I went shopping for a dress to wear to the wedding,” Evelyn said, making her way to the dining room. “There were leftover goodies from bible study last night, so I brought you some. You've been losing weight again, and you were too skinny, to begin with."

Jason's eyes filled with panic. He was looking at Peter, specifically Peter's tank top. Ginny moved fast. She circled the table, intending to put herself between Evelyn and the words Gay Pride. Peter was pushing back his chair as if he were going to be polite and greet Evelyn standing up. Ginny plopped down on Peter’s lap, ignoring his exaggerated “Oof” and shocked expression.

“Ginny?” Evelyn said.

“Hi Evelyn, have you met Peter?”

“No, I haven’t.” She wore a puzzled smile. “Apparently you know him well.”

“Yes.” Ginny smiled so wide her cheeks hurt.

“We’re very close,” Peter said, wrapping both arms around Ginny’s middle.

Evelyn shook her head at them as if they were silly children. “I brought plenty of goodies for everyone.”

Jason took the lid off the plastic tub. “Mrs. Lockwood’s chocolate mint bars, I love these.”

“I'm so glad she's feeling well enough to bake again, after that last terrible round of chemo. We said extra prayers for her every day for weeks, and now she's in remission.”

“That’s good,” Jason said. “She’s a nice lady.”

Jason handed Ginny a mint bar. Peter’s forearm had come to rest high on her ribs, creating a shelf for her breasts to rest on. Ginny did not appreciate it. She tried to discreetly push his arm down, but it wouldn’t budge. Seeing the evil glint in his eye, she understood that Peter would play along, but on his terms.

“Where’s Bryn tonight?” Evelyn asked.

“Working,” Jason said.

“That’s too bad,” Evelyn said. “I wanted to tell her about Mrs. Lockwood, and about Georgia Brown. She met Georgia at church and expressed interest in joining her book club. Unless she was just being polite, it was hard to tell.”

Ginny was willing to bet on the just being polite idea, but not about to say it. The chocolate mint bar she held looked like it contained a trillion calories. She felt her bust line grow an inch just from looking at it. She offered it to Peter. “Here you go.”

“Feed it to me, Honey-pot.” Peter opened his mouth.

Honey-pot? Ginny pushed the bar into his mouth with a bit more force than was necessary. Peter took a huge bite. Crumbs fell onto his shirt. Peter released his grip on Ginny to brush away the crumbs. Ginny looked up, afraid that Evelyn would see his shirt. Jason was looking at Evelyn, who was frowning at something on the kitchen table. There was a newspaper, an empty plate, and two beer bottles. Was it the beer?

“Did you find a dress?” Jason asked.

Evelyn picked up the front page of the newspaper. It was not The Oregonian. It was Queer News. “This is interesting reading material.”

“Weird. I have no idea where that came from.” Jason looked at Peter. “Do you?”

Peter shrugged. “That buddy of yours, Hank, he might have left it here. He seems kind of queer to me.”

“Hank’s not gay,” Jason said.  

Evelyn dropped the paper. “You should be more careful when choosing your friends. That kind of thing is---well, we all know what it is.”

“I don’t,” Peter said. “What is it?”

No, Peter, please don’t challenge her.

Evelyn gave him an appraising stare that lasted a bit too long, as if she saw right through Ginny to the writing on his shirt. Or maybe that wasn't necessary. Seeing Peter, really seeing him, was enough.

“Homosexuality is a disease,” she said.

“You mean it’s contagious?” Peter said. “I had no idea. Damn Jason, look what you’ve exposed me to, letting your buddy bring that smut in here. I feel a sudden urge to wash my hands.”

Peter moved to get up, but Ginny braced herself on the edge of the table to keep him in place. Jason’s face had gone white. Ginny could feel Peter’s heart pounding against her back.

“I think I’d better get going,” Evelyn said.

“Mom…” Jason didn’t seem to have any idea what he wanted to say.

Evelyn touched his arm. “We’ll talk tomorrow. It’s been too long since we’ve had Pastor John over. I’ll give him a call.”

Jason didn’t walk her to the door.

“My best sarcasm wasted,” Peter said. “You can get off my lap now, Ginny.”

Ginny stood up. “What was that all about? You were practically feeling me up.”

“Sorry, guess I got excited over real breasts. I used to date a guy who occasionally dressed in drag, but the fake ones weren’t much fun.”

“I’m not even going to pretend that I understand why you’d be interested in—” Ginny saw that Jason had one hand over his stomach. “Are you all right?”

Jason bolted out of the room. Ginny heard him retching.

“I hope he made it to the toilet,” Peter said. “Puke is a bitch to clean off the carpet.”

“You could be a little more sympathetic, you know.”

“About what? He’s not the one with the disease.”

“Don’t say that. It’s not a disease.”

“What? You don’t get sarcasm either?”

“Evelyn has old-fashioned ideas, and she's not the kind of person who will ever change. I feel bad for Jason. He has to deal with her on a regular basis.”

“No, he doesn’t.”

“Of course he does.”

“I haven’t talked to my dad and stepmom in eight years. They disapprove of what they refer to as my lifestyle choice, and I don’t like their attitude.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Parting ways is the best decision I ever made.”

“Then you did what you had to do. Obviously, Jason's situation is nothing like yours. He's all his mother has, and she depends on him. Just because he disagrees with her doesn't mean he should cut her out of his life.”

“If he lets his mother tell him who he can be friends with, she’ll be controlling his life until the day she dies.”

Jason stepped into the room. “You can stop talking about me now.”

“Sorry.” Ginny noticed that his shirt hung loosely around his middle. Evelyn was right. He had lost weight. Vomiting would not help the situation.

“I’m sorry Ginny, but I don’t feel like playing chess.”

“Do you want to talk?”

He shook his head. “No, I just want to say I’m sorry. Peter, you shouldn’t have to listen to that in your own home.”

Peter shrugged. “Don't worry about me. I have thick skin.”

Not that thick. His heart had been racing as fast as Ginny’s did when she was on the verge of a panic attack.

Ginny patted Jason’s arm. “Call me if you change your mind. I’m always willing to listen.”

“Thanks.”

Once home, Ginny went straight to bed and picked up the romance she’d been reading. She came to a sex scene that involved the dining room table, hot fudge, whipped cream, and a cherry but found her mind wandering.

Why couldn't Jason just tell Evelyn that yes, his roommate was gay? She wouldn't like it, but so what? Peter was right. Jason should stand up to his mother. His reaction seemed out of proportion to the situation. What had Evelyn meant about Pastor John? Ginny knew that Jason liked the pastor. He'd talked to him a lot back in high school, before and after his father died. It was a difficult time, and he'd needed guidance. It seemed to help. But what did that have to do with anything now?

She was still thinking about it when Pierce called and invited her to come over on Wednesday and spend the evening with him and Caleb. He’d be babysitting while Steele worked late. They could hot tub after Caleb went to sleep. Ginny agreed. It was half an hour later when she went back to her book.

The heroine was on her second orgasm. Ginny would never again be able to eat a hot fudge sundae without envisioning this scene. She turned off the light, closed her eyes and imagined being naked in the hot tub with Pierce. This led to him carrying her into the house, throwing her onto his bed, and making mad passionate love to her. There was no whipped cream and no cherry in this fantasy, but there were lots of orgasms.

****

Jason wasn’t answering his phone. He hadn’t replied to her texts, and she’d sent three so far today. Ginny had tried calling him on her lunch break, and again when she got home from work, and then after she ate her salad and half an overcooked chicken breast. 

She cleaned out her refrigerator and scrubbed the kitchen floor until it shined. She tried Jason's number again, and again she got the automated voice. Jason never ignored her calls, not unless something was wrong. He didn't handle strife well and had always been overly sensitive to other people's emotions, especially his mother's. These were things he often talked out with Ginny.

 Ginny wiped imaginary dust from her knickknacks. She vacuumed her rug. At eight o’clock she sat down and ate dessert, a strawberry flavored fat-free yogurt. After every bite, she mentally informed her body that this was all the calories it needed for the rest of the evening. She considered driving over to Jason’s house to check on him, but this seemed a bit extreme. She wished that she had Peter’s number so she could call him and ask him if Jason was home and if he was okay. There was one other option, one that she’d been avoiding all day.

Finally, at nine-thirty, knowing full well that she was not going to sleep until she knew that Jason was all right, Ginny broke down and called her sister. Bryn answered right away.

“I just wondered what you were doing tonight.”

“I worked late, and now I'm watching Carissa wax Britney's eyebrows, so if you hear screaming that's what it is.”

Lovely. “So you’re not at Jason’s?”

“No, why?”

“No reason. It's just that I was trying to get a hold of him about this chess game we're in the middle of, and he's not answering.”

“That’s weird. I talked to him like five minutes ago.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, we talk every day.”

“And he’s fine? I mean he’s not sick or anything?”

“No. Why would you think he’s sick? Oh, because he’s not taking your calls.”

Was that pity in Bryn’s voice?

“I’m sure he’s not intentionally ignoring you. He wouldn't do that. Do you want me to call him?”

“No, please don’t.”

“I don't mind. I'll call him and tell him to call you.”

“It’s late. I’m going to bed. It’s no big deal. I’ll talk to him another time.”

“All right, if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” Ginny carefully set down her phone, resisting the sudden urge to hurl it across the room. Instead, she punched her pillow.

What a big, stupid mistake it had been to call Bryn. She was clueless as to what was going on with Jason. Ginny wasn't entirely sure herself. She felt guilty that she hadn't noticed Jason's weight loss until Evelyn had pointed it out. Has Bryn noticed? It was obvious that Jason hadn't told Bryn about his mom's visit. Or else Bryn hadn't felt any need to share this information with Ginny.

The fact was, he’d called Bryn tonight, not Ginny. Did this mean that Ginny was the clueless one? He’d called Bryn because she was the one he loved, the one he was going to marry. It was wrong for her to think that she could continue having a close friendship with her sister’s soon-to-be-husband.

Ginny turned out the light and lay on her back with her hands beneath her head, staring into the darkness. She tried to imagine the situation from Bryn's point of view. Naturally, Bryn would want her fiancé to turn to her when he needed someone to talk to. She'd want to be his best friend as well as his lover. If Ginny were Bryn, she'd feel guilty for stealing her sister's best friend, but she'd also want her sister to back off. If she were Bryn, she'd want Jason all to herself.

Jason’s problems were not her problems, not anymore. From now on, Ginny vowed, she was going to remember that and act accordingly.

****

On Wednesday, at work, Ginny received a text from Jason. Sorry, I didn’t get back to you yesterday. I wasn’t feeling well. I haven’t been sleeping much.

He wasn’t the only one who hadn’t slept well. The extra coffee she’d had this morning to make up for the lack of sleep hadn’t helped. Instead, it had made her feel jittery though that could have been partly from lack of food. She’d stood on the scale this morning and found that she’d lost one more pound—not enough. For breakfast, she’d had only a boiled egg so that she could indulge a bit more at dinner with Pierce. If she didn’t stop yawning, she wouldn't be good company tonight.

Ginny started a reply to Jason. Were your fingers too tired to touch the screen? Lame excuse, Jason.

Remembering her plan to be less involved with Jason's problems she deleted the message and instead replied, feel better, followed by a smiley face.

****

While Pierce barbecued chicken on the patio Ginny made a fruit salad. Caleb dragged a chair over to the counter. “I help please?”

It sounded like “hep peas.” Very cute.

“Let’s wash your hands first and then you can help,” Ginny said.

Caleb held out his hands, and she squirted soap into his palms.

“More.”

“They can’t be that dirty.” 

“I play trucks,” Caleb said as if that explained everything.

Ginny gave him another squirt. When his hands were very clean, she handed Caleb the bag of mini marshmallows. “You get the most important job, putting the marshmallows in the salad.”

Caleb proceeded to drop the marshmallows in one at a time, talking the whole time about how yummy marshmallows were and how icky strawberries and blueberries were.

When it was done, they carried the rest of the food to the patio. Pierce served the chicken.

Ginny took a small scoop of fruit salad, avoiding the marshmallows. She skipped the store-bought potato salad and the potato chips.

“That’s all you’re eating?” Pierce asked.

“I need to lose a few more pounds so that I can fit into the dress my sister wants me to wear to her wedding.”

“Why don't you just buy a bigger dress?”

Ginny sighed. Leave it to a guy to think it was that simple. “The next size up was too big. I’d rather wear a different dress altogether, but Bryn is insisting that we match, which is dumb, but it’s her wedding.”

“You’re starving yourself to make your sister happy?”

“I wanted to lose another five pounds anyway.”

“Why? You’re not fat.”

“I’m not fat because I’ve been working at it. If you had seen me a couple of months ago, you would have thought I was chubby.”

“Maybe, but you’re not now. Now you’re perfect.”

Perfect? The words gave her a warm tingly feeling. This was a man who had seen her in only bra and panties, seen her not-so-slender thighs up close, put his hand on abs that were far from flat, rather squishy actually. Not sure how to react to the compliment, Ginny was grateful that Caleb picked that moment to start chattering. He told them about Bradley, the mean boy at daycare, and Christa, who let him play with her bunny rabbit. Pierce served as the interpreter when Ginny didn’t understand him.

While cleaning up, Ginny noticed a fifty dollar bill on Pierce’s refrigerator. “Why is there money on your refrigerator?”

“You don't want to know.” Pierce began loading the dishwasher.

“Sure I do.”

“You don’t. Caleb, why don’t you show Ginny your cars while I clean up?”

Pierce was, for some reason, trying to distract her, but Caleb reached for Ginny's hand and said, “Play cars?” so she gave in because he was adorable.

When he was done in the kitchen, Pierce sat down on the floor with them. For the next half hour, they played cars and trucks with Caleb. The game involved a lot of crashing noises as the vehicles smashed into each other. Ginny couldn't help noticing that Caleb took all the best cars for himself.

Caleb stood up suddenly and announced, “I wear big boy pants.”

Ginny was trying to come up with an appropriate response, when Caleb lowered both his jeans and his big boy pants, then quickly pulled them back up. “See?”

“Caleb, it’s not polite to flash the girls,” Pierce said with a barely concealed smile.

“I go pee?” Caleb said.

Pierce stood up. “Let’s go.”

Caleb shook his head. “No, not have to go.”

“Are you sure?” Pierce asked.

“No pee.” Caleb sat back down.

Pierce looked doubtful. “Come on, Caleb. I’ll go with you.”

Caleb shook his head and began driving a race car over Ginny’s leg. After a moment, Pierce gave up and sat back down.

Five minutes later Caleb said, “I go pee,” but this time it wasn’t a question. Ginny saw the guilt on his face and had to turn away so he wouldn’t see her smile.

Pierce sighed. “I think you’re missing the whole point of big boy pants. You’re supposed to pull them down, and use the potty chair.”

Caleb jumped up. “Go potty?”

“It’s a little late for that now. Come on, let’s get you changed and then we’ll read stories.”

Ginny picked up the toys. 

When they came back, Caleb was in his pajamas. He held Mr. Stinky under one arm. Pierce held a few books. They sat on the sofa, Caleb nestled between them, while Pierce read a story about trucks. When he was finished, Caleb asked for another.

“Your turn,” Pierce said, handing Ginny a book about dinosaurs.

Ginny started reading. Caleb moved closer. His soft hair brushed her arm. She could get used to this.

Caleb talked them into one more story before Pierce put him to bed.

A few minutes later, Pierce came back and sat on the sofa. “I like to wait about ten minutes to be sure he's asleep before I go downstairs. Once he's out, he rarely wakes up until morning.”

“You’ve done this a few times.”

“Yep. Steele and I arrange our schedules so that he doesn't have to spend as much time at daycare.” 

Ginny was impressed. He was a good uncle. She reached for his hand. “Is this a good time for a kissing lesson?”

Pierce put his arm around her shoulders and moved closer, “Yes.”

The first kisses were soft, tender.  His fingers lightly touched the side of her neck. His thumb brushed her jaw. His lips parted. Ginny opened her mouth.

“You don’t have to open quite so wide,” Pierce said.

“Sorry.” She felt her cheeks get warm.

“No reason to be sorry, we’re just practicing.”

He kissed her again. This time when his lips parted, she opened just a little and felt the tip of his tongue touched hers in a sensual caress. This might not be so bad.

Twenty minutes later Pierce announced, “You're getting the hang of it.”

“It’s not as bad as I thought it would be.”

“You don’t find kissing me as gross as letting a dog lick your mouth?”

“No. That's not exactly what I said, you know. I was referring to germs though I was also worried about it being too wet and slobbery because that happened to me once. Your kisses aren't like that.”

“Are my germs okay too?”

“Yes.”

 “Now that that's settled let's go sit in the hot tub, which is full of germ-killing chemicals just for you.”

“Chemicals that cause cancer?”

“These are non cancer-causing chemicals, I promise.”

“Yeah sure, that’s what they all say.”

In the downstairs bathroom, Ginny changed into a lime green two-piece. She stepped out of the bathroom and into the bedroom just in time to see Pierce pulling on a pair of gray and white swim trunks. His back was to her, and she caught more than a glimpse of his nicely shaped behind.

They went outside. The rain had stopped, but it was still chilly.

“Wow, this is hot,” Ginny said, as she slowly lowered herself into the water.

“You’ll get used to it in a few minutes.”

She took her time sitting down. It still felt too hot.

“How are the jets?” Pierce asked.

“A little low. I get this pain in my upper back, right between my shoulder blades from sitting at a desk all day.”

Pierce pressed his thumbs into the spot. After a few minutes of this, his hands moved to her shoulders, massaging those muscles as well. She closed her eyes. The water didn't seem to be getting any cooler. There was an uncomfortable pressure in her chest. Her heart was beating too fast, but she didn't think it was anxiety this time. Too hot. She knew she should get out, sit on the edge of the tub and cool off, but he was kissing her, and she didn't want him to stop. His hand slipped under her top.

“Pierce?”

“Hmm?”

“I think we should go inside.”

“Good idea.”

Ginny stumbled and landed on her knees in the cold, wet grass.

“Are you okay?”

His hands were under her arms helping her to her feet. She fell into him, nearly knocking him over.

“You’re not okay.”

Pierce helped her inside. When they reached his bedroom, Ginny lay down on the bed. “My heart is beating way too fast.”

Pierce went into the other room and came back with a glass of cold water. He sat on the edge of the bed while she took sips, waiting to feel better.

“Do you think it was the heat or another panic attack?”

“I think it was the heat. I haven't felt well today because I was worrying last night and I didn't sleep much. I'm sure those things didn't help.”

Pierce reached for her hand. “What were you worrying about?”

Ginny spilled it all out, her evening with Jason and Peter, how Jason wouldn’t stand up to his mother, how he’d been stressed out and losing weight and wouldn’t talk to her about it. Pierce listened and sympathized and gently suggested that maybe she was worrying about things that she couldn't do anything about. He went upstairs to get her some food, saying that she probably felt sick because she hadn’t eaten enough or drank enough water.

Pierce returned with Caleb on his hip and a small plate of food. “I think he had a nightmare.”

“Bradley bad,” Caleb said, hugging Mr. Stinky close. “Where Daddy?”

“He’s still working,” Pierce said.

“But I want him.”

“If you go to sleep he’ll be here when you wake up.”

Caleb’s blue eyes filled with tears. Pierce patted his back, reassuring him that daddy would be home soon. Giant tears continued to form.

Ginny went into the bathroom to get dressed. When she came back out Caleb was still teary-eyed. He seemed to be wide awake. She sat on the bed, ate a bit of potato salad and more fruit salad. Soon, she started to feel better.

“I guess I did need to eat. Thanks.”

“Sure. So, what are you doing tomorrow night?”

“Baking cookies for Bryn’s bachelorette party.”

“Cookies?”

“That’s what the bride asked for.” 

Lately, it had been all about Bryn getting what she wanted. When would it be her turn to get what she wanted? Did she even know what that was anymore?

Read Chapter Eight Here

“What’s this for?” Pierce tapped the fifty dollar bill he found stuck to the refrigerator door with Caleb’s letter magnets. They spelled the word BET.

“I thought it was self –explanatory. You’re seeing Ginny again. That means the bet’s back on.” Steele set a bowl of macaroni and cheese in front of Caleb.

Pierce opened the refrigerator, got out the container of orange juice and took a long drink. He was hungry, but with a seven -course meal ahead of him he figured he’d better wait to eat. He closed the refrigerator door and stared at the fifty. “I’m not seeing Ginny because of the bet.”

“But is she only seeing you because of her offer?”

“I don't think so.”

“But you don't know.”

He didn’t. “You already got your money. The bet's over.”

“If you succeed, you get your fifty back. It's only fair.”

 Pierce shrugged, and turned his attention to Caleb, who was chatting excitedly about Libby, the teenager who was coming over to babysit for the evening. A three-year-old couldn’t be expected to sit through a three-hour dinner. Pierce wasn’t even sure that he could.

He used the reflection on the sliding glass door as a mirror, trying, for the third time, to get the tie done right.

“Is that my tie you’re mangling?” Steele asked.

“Yes,” Pierce said.

“Dude, you can’t wear that shirt.”

“Why? Does it clash with the tie?”

“Yeah, but that’s not why. It needs to be ironed.”

“I don’t iron.”

Steele grunted and left the room. He came back a moment later with a brick red, wrinkle-free dress shirt. “Here, wear this.”

Pierce changed into it.

“This was a bad idea wasn’t it?” he asked as he put the tie around his neck. “Bringing Ginny, I mean.”

“I’m not even going to answer that.” Steele reached for the two dangling ends of the tie and quickly made a perfect knot.

“If I bring a guest they’ll have to act civilized, right?”

“When did you become delusional?”

“When did you become so cynical?”

“I’m being realistic. You know Dad will be his usual pompous self and Charmaine will say things to embarrass us. You obviously weren’t thinking clearly when you invited Ginny.”

This was true. He hadn’t been thinking clearly. He wasn’t usually impulsive and had been regretting it ever since, but there was no way to cancel now, not without hurting her feelings. 

“You’re not trying to impress Dad, are you? Prove to him that you can find a nice, normal girlfriend?”

It had been a year and a half since the Trina fiasco. Pretty, outgoing, and fun—not to mention great in bed—Pierce had been thinking of marriage after only a few months. He'd been so naïve. What happened when he brought Trina to dinner at his father's house could never be undone or forgotten. Neither could the argument that he'd had with his father afterward. Things had never been good between them, but they'd barely spoken in the last year. They put up with each other at family events, and that was about it. “I don't care what Dad thinks.”

“Bullshit.”

“Don’t say shit,” Caleb said.

“Sorry, Son.”

Pierce left the house before Steele could continue playing shrink with him. He didn’t need that, and had gotten enough of it from his father over the years. When it came to his own family, David Vaughn’s methods had been sorely lacking. Steele’s message stayed with him. Maybe he was setting himself up to get burned again. But when he was with Ginny, it didn’t feel like that.

Traffic was lighter than usual. Pierce arrived at Ginny’s apartment fourteen minutes early. It was better to wait in the car than to seem too anxious, he decided.

Four minutes had gone by when Pierce’s phone rang. Ginny. He almost hoped she was calling to cancel. “Hello?”

“Are you going to knock on the door or sit out there and wait for me to come down?”

Pierce glanced up at the window, and there was Ginny. She gave him a little wave. Damn, how embarrassing. “I didn’t want to show up early.”

“It’s only ten minutes. Anyway, I’m ready. You don’t have to come up. I’ll be right down.”

It didn’t feel right waiting for her in the car. Pierce got out. By the time he reached the bottom step, Ginny was on her way down. Her hair was pinned up, instead of loose around her shoulders. Her dress was red. It tied behind her neck, and dipped low in the front, so low that she couldn't be wearing a bra. Her breasts were well covered, but it would be easy enough to slip a hand under the material. Pierce shook his head, tearing his eyes away from her chest. Getting through this evening was going to be hard enough. Thinking about sex would not make it easier.

“I heard there was a dress code. Is this dress all right?”

Pierce kept his eyes on her face. “The dress is fine. You look nice.” 

“Thanks.” Ginny’s tone was as lackluster as his compliment.

Gorgeous. Why hadn’t he told her she looked gorgeous? 

Pierce opened the passenger side door for her and walked around to the driver’s side. He felt a sudden urge to tell her dinner had been canceled and take her somewhere else, just the two of them. He couldn't back out now, not after asking Charmaine to add Ginny to the reservation.

“This is your car?” Ginny asked.

“It is.” Embarrassed by the chipped black paint and cracked windshield on his 1972 Porsche, he explained. “I bought it to fix up, but we’re so busy at work that I don't have time to work on it.”

This was only partially true. On his one day off a week, he didn’t feel like working on it.

“I just wondered because you have a booster seat crammed in the back.”

“It's easier to have two car seats than to move one around all the time. Some nights Steele works late, and I pick Caleb up from daycare.”

“You share parenting duties?”

“I guess you could say that.” They also shared shirts and ties. Not that he’d admit to wearing his brother’s clothes.

Pierce reached for her hand, and she immediately entwined her fingers with his. No way was this about that offer.

****

Valet parking, candles on the tables, a view of the Willamette River—it would have been romantic if it were just the two of them. Instead, they were a party of five.

Charmaine wore a slinky dress that showed off her tan, toned arms and her cleavage. Pierce’s dad was tall, handsome, slim and fit in a gray suit. He had a neatly trimmed black beard, without a single gray hair. Was it possible for a man who was well into his fifties to not have any gray? Was he vain enough to dye it?

The first dish was fancy bread with olive oil for dipping. Ginny didn’t like olive oil and only pretended to dip her bread. Charmaine, she noticed, left the bread on her plate.

David was friendly, charming even, and yet there was an intensity about him that made her feel as if he were assessing her. Or was it only that she knew he was a psychiatrist, so she expected it? Pierce spoke to his father in a stiff, formal voice.

“Ginny, tell us about yourself,” Charmaine said, filling her wine glass for the fourth time.

Ginny felt a flutter of anxiety. How should she describe herself? Beneath the table, Pierce’s hand covered hers.

“I work downtown at a bank. I process mortgage loans.”

Charmaine smiled. “How utterly dull that sounds.”

Ginny felt her cheeks fill with heat. “Once in a while, something interesting happens.”

“Give us an example.” Charmaine brought her hands together in a soundless clap. “Tell us a story.”

“Uh…”

“You don't have to,” Pierce said.

His hand tightened on hers.

“I do have one story.” Ginny took a deep breath before continuing. “One time, a recently married couple was in my office to sign papers for a loan—”

The server arrived with the next course, a cup of curry soup. Ginny hoped that everyone would forget about her story. No such luck. After raving about how good the soup was Charmaine encouraged her to continue.

“Okay, so this couple was in the office to sign the final papers for their new house—”

“Were they young or old?” Charmaine asked.

“Mid- thirties,” Ginny said.

“Was it their first house?” Charmaine asked.

“It was his but not hers.”

“Were they attractive?”

“Stop interrupting,” David said, lightly touching Charmaine’s arm.

“The details are important,” Charmaine said. “I need to be able to picture the scene when I hear a story.”

“She was pretty and wore a short skirt and boots. He was too skinny and wore ugly brown pants that were too short.”

“Now I see it,” Charmaine said.

Ginny hesitated, nervousness making her forget her story for a second. Her family had laughed when she told it, but that didn't mean these people would. Pierce's knee bumped hers, and she took that as encouragement to continue. “So one of the papers they had to sign asked them to write down any previous names they'd used. The man had nothing to write and quickly signed his name. The woman hesitated, holding her pen over the paper for a good thirty seconds, before writing down three names. The man's face turned red. He asked me to excuse them for a minute. They went into the hallway. I could see them through the window, but I couldn't hear what they were saying. He grabbed her arm, whispering fiercely. She kept stroking his hand like she was trying to calm him down. This went on for about ten minutes. When they came back in, they went back to signing papers like nothing had happened.”

No one laughed. Not even a snicker.

“She’d been married before and hadn’t told him?” Pierce asked.

“Yes,” Ginny said. “A few times apparently.”

“That must have been terribly awkward for you,” Charmaine said.

No more so than this conversation.

“They went through with it and bought the house?” David asked.

“Yes.”

“I bet that marriage didn’t last long,” Steele said.

Ginny was relieved when the next course arrived, a salad with caramelized pecans and pear slices.

Charmaine took over the conversation. “The twins were eight when I married David. They were the sweetest boys, but so different. Steele was a chatterbox and did all the talking for both of them. Pierce wants this, and Pierce wants that. It was so cute. David tells me that Pierce didn’t talk until he was three and a half.”

“We were very worried about him,” David said.

Ginny looked at Pierce. He shrugged. “I didn’t have anything to say.”

“My theory is that Pierce didn’t talk because Steele could read his mind,” Charmaine said.

“I still can,” Steele said. “Right now he wants you to stop telling Ginny stories about him.”

“He’s right,” Pierce said.

“That wouldn't be any fun. Besides, I’m just getting started. Would you believe these two shared the same twin bed until they were eleven?”

Pierce pressed his fingers to his forehead as if it hurt.

“They had their own beds of course, but they were so close back then that they preferred to share. When they were twelve, they even shared a girlfriend.”

“Annie,” Pierce and Steele said in unison, each wearing a little smile at what was apparently a good memory.

The main course arrived. Baby red potatoes and lamb.

Ginny took a bite of potato. It tasted of rosemary and butter. It was so delicious that she immediately took another bite. A bit of butter stayed on her lips. She wiped it off with her napkin. Ginny saw Charmaine watching her. “These potatoes are amazing.”

“I don't eat starchy foods. They’re much too fattening. I’ve found that a diet of lean protein and lots of fruits and vegetables is the best way to maintain my figure. It’s what keeps David slim too. We started it when he discovered that his best suit had become too tight. This happened right before he was to make a presentation in front of hundreds of the country’s top psychiatrists. One week on my diet plan and he could button those pants again no problem.” She patted David’s arm. “Now look at him. How many men look this good at fifty-seven?”

It didn't seem like the kind of question a person was supposed to answer, but David did look good. If he was embarrassed by his wife pointing it out, it didn't show. If anything he seemed to have sat up straighter. Ginny looked down at her plate. Suddenly, the potatoes didn't look quite so amazing. “Lean protein, huh?”

“And lots of vegetables. It’s the added sugar in processed foods that is making this a country of fatties. Obesity leads to diabetes and heart disease.”

“It’s not good for the brain either,” David said. “It’s a sad fact that most people give very little thought to the health of their brains.”

Ginny tried to remember the last time she’d seriously considered her brain. Nothing came to mind. David started telling her about the relatively new field of brain imaging. The mind and the brain are not separate things, as many people believe. Without a functioning brain, there can be no thoughts. Ginny found it interesting, though everyone else at the table appeared to be bored out of their brains by talk they'd heard before.

The meal was nearly over when David asked Ginny about her family and what her parents did for a living.

“My mom teaches middle school algebra.”

“And you work for a bank,” David said. “You must be a family of number people. What does your father do?”

There was no reason to tell them about her dad losing his construction business. “He has a business making pet urns.”

“Pet urns? Well, I’m sure there’s a need.” David’s tone didn’t match his words.

“They’re very popular now.” Ginny felt the need to defend her father. “You’d be surprised by how many people want to keep the remains of their pets. Some people even have them stuffed.”

“Stuffed?” David turned to Charmaine. “Would you like to have Princess stuffed and sitting on the mantle watching over us?”

“I’m sure Princess would love the idea,” Pierce mumbled.

Charmaine threw them both dirty looks. “Not stuffed, but a pretty urn would be a nice way to keep her memory close.”

“What are these urns made out of?” David asked.

“Wood. He designs and carves them himself. Some are quite intricate and take a lot of time. The fancy ones cost more, of course.”

“He must be good with his hands.” David held out his own hands. “I wish I had artistic talents, but these hands aren’t good for much.”

“I wouldn't say that,” Charmaine said, giving him a seductive smile and reaching under the table to squeeze his leg.

At least Ginny assumed it was his leg she was squeezing. She couldn't see under the table. Embarrassed to witness a display of affection between Pierce’s parents, she stared at her plate to avoid making eye contact with anyone.

“I only meant that some of us aren’t cut out for physical work and have to settle for using our minds,” David said.

Despite his light tone, Ginny took the comment seriously. Was this a backward way of insulting her father for not being a white collar professional?

“David wanted to be a surgeon,” Charmaine said.

“My hands weren’t steady enough.”

Oh, he was talking about himself.

“In one respect I'm thankful.” David continued to study his hands. “All that scrubbing is hell on the skin. Of course, blood washes away more easily than grease.”

Pierce set his water glass down with a thunk. “Surgeons wear gloves. There wouldn't be any blood to wash away.”

A long silence followed.

Finally, Charmaine started talking again, telling more stories about Pierce and Steele.

When the evening was finally over, Pierce and David having not said another word to each other the whole time, Pierce apologized to Ginny.

“I’m sorry I put you through that,” he said as he opened the car door for her.

“It wasn’t that bad,” Ginny said.

Pierce gave her an incredulous look.

“Okay, it was a little uncomfortable at times, but dinner with my family can be bad too, especially when my mom and grandma are shooting little jabs at each other, or when my mom and dad are bickering about some silly thing.”

Pierce didn't talk much on the drive to Ginny's house. She kept stealing glances at his profile, trying to think of some way to engage him in conversation but decided it might be best to wait it out. He'd talk if he felt like it.

“Thank you,” Ginny said when they were back at her house. “The food was good.”

Pierce gripped the steering wheel with both hands. “I thought if you were there, things might go more smoothly. My dad always finds a way to put me down.”

“I’m sorry. Do you want to come inside?”

Pierce shook his head. “It’s late.”

“It’s not even nine o’clock and tomorrow is Memorial Day. The bank is closed.”

“I still have to work tomorrow. Holidays are busy for us. It will be a long day.”

Ginny wasn’t ready for him to leave. Wanting to kiss him and put him in a better mood, she moved closer and stroked his tie with her fingertip. “You look good in a tie.”

“I clean up nice, is that what you’re saying?”

Stung, by his harsh tone, she jerked her hand back. With no idea how to respond, she picked up her purse, got out of the car and stomped up the stairs to her apartment.

Ginny took off her dress and changed into summer pajamas, thinking of things she could have said, things like “It’s not my fault your dad is an arrogant ass, so don’t take it out on me.”

She was hanging up the dress when she heard a knock on the door. She answered it.

“Ginny, I’m sorry,” Pierce said.

The sincerity in his voice caused her anger to vanish. She took his hand and pulled him inside. “Maybe I shouldn't say this, but your father seems a bit full of himself.”

“A bit?” Pierce said, almost smiling. “The thing is, we had a falling out a while back and I said some things I shouldn't have said, and we haven’t talked much since.”

“It wasn’t something you could just apologize for?”

He shrugged while working his tie loose. “We’ve always clashed. It would take twenty-nine years of apologies to fix it all.”

Pierce took off the tie and undid the top button on his shirt. Ginny reached over and undid the second one. “There, now you can breathe.”

Ginny felt the warmth of his lips on her forehead, his arms encircling her. She rested her head on his shoulder. “Talk to me. Tell me about you and your dad.”

“There’s not much to tell.”

“I bet there’s plenty to tell.” 

Pierce sighed. “When I was slow to talk he was afraid there might be something seriously wrong with me.” 

“Obviously, he was wrong.” Ginny took his hand and led him to the sofa.

“My dad is the type to take that kind of thing personally. He brought me to all kinds of specialists, even after I started talking. According to all the tests they put me through my IQ was way above average. In the end, it didn’t mean much. I don’t think he’s ever forgiven me for not being a genius.”

“That’s silly. There’s nothing wrong with how you turned out.”

“He thinks I should have pursued higher education, thinks I’m wasting my brain.”

“Do you feel that way?”

“Sometimes I feel like I should, but I don’t. I like what I do.”

“That’s a whole lot better than hating your job, or not having any idea what you want to do, like my sister. When my dad owned his construction business, he sometimes worked fourteen hour days. He’d be exhausted and stressed out most of the summer. Now he’s working on my grandma's farm and making pet urns, and he seems happier, but my mom doesn't like it because he’s not earning a good income.”

“That’s rough. We’re making a decent profit now so I get to like what I do and make money at it, can’t complain about that.”

Ginny moved closer, rested her head against his shoulder. “Is your work the main thing you and your dad argue about?”

“No. In high school, there was the whole Desiree thing. After he had her arrested, things were so bad between us that I pretty much had to live with my mom. I found school boring, so I didn't go very often. Afraid I wouldn't graduate my parents agreed that I should go back to my dad and Charmaine's for senior year. As soon I turned eighteen, Desiree showed up.”

“I bet your dad didn’t like that.”

“He didn’t know. Not at first. I should have been over her, but I wasn’t. It turns out, Desiree had an ulterior motive. She told me this whole story about her boyfriend, how he hit her and stole her car. I was such an idiot. I believed her stories and was willing to do whatever she asked, even help her get her car back. It turns out the car was in his name, not hers. Calling my dad to bail me out of jail for car theft ranks as one of the worst moments of my life.”

“That must have been awful.”

“What’s even more embarrassing is that Desiree’s ex is the one who saved me. When he realized who I was and that I’d been duped by Desiree, something he too had been a victim of, he called it a misunderstanding, and dropped the charges.”

“You were a kid. She took advantage of you.”

“That’s not how my dad saw it. If I’d listened to him in the first place…”

“That’s just a parent thing. They think our lives would be perfect if only we listened to them, did what they believe is right for us. So your dad thinks you should have gone to college. To do what?”

Pierce shrugged. “I don’t know, something that involves sitting behind a desk I suppose. I can’t do that.”

“Then you made the right choice. You just have to find a way to not let your dad’s comments get to you, though I’m sure that’s not easy.”

“No.”

Pierce stayed a while longer. He seemed to be in a better mood by the time he left. At the door, he gave her a long hug. When she lay down to sleep, Ginny pulled her pajama top up to her nose, because it smelled like Pierce and she couldn't get enough of it.

Chapter One

Chapter Seven

Ginny’s contribution to the bridal shower came in the form of buying the soda. She met Bryn at a mega-strip mall in the suburbs. The discount grocery store had soda on sale. It being Memorial Day weekend, the parking lot was packed. The sun was out, which no doubt added to the deluge of shoppers. Ginny could think of many things she’d rather be doing on a sunny Saturday afternoon. Going for a long calorie-burning, stress-reducing bike ride for example. Not that there was any reason for her to dread the party. She only had to suffer through a few hours of her relatives congratulating her sister on marrying the guy that she’d planned to marry. This was sure to be loads of fun.

Ginny met Bryn in the parking lot.

“How was your date with Hank?” Bryn asked.

“Fine.”

“Fine? That’s it? I want details.”

“There’s nothing to tell. Hank and I didn’t click. Anyway, I’m sort of seeing the guy from the dating site.”

“Scorching hot guy?”

“Yes. Pierce.”

“What’s he do?”

Ginny told her.

“He’s a mechanic?” Bryn’s nose wrinkled.

“He owns the business.”

“How many times have you gone out?”

Ginny already wished that she hadn’t mentioned Pierce. “A few. I don't know if it’s going to turn into anything. It’s no big deal.”

“More than two dates is a big deal for you.”

“Ha. Ha.”

“I wasn’t being sarcastic.”

This, of course, made the comment worse. They were almost to the cart corral, which contained one cart, when a woman in a pink sweat-suit darted in front of them and grabbed it.

“It’s going to be a zoo in there,” Bryn said. “We should go somewhere else.”

“I can’t afford to go anywhere else.” Ginny thought of the dress she’d put on her credit card the weekend before and the money she’d agreed to pitch in for Tex. “This store is having a sale. Since you think we need soda as well as punch, I might as well buy it on sale.”

“You know how the Cotton cousins are about their soda.”

“I don’t see why they can’t drink punch for one evening.”

“Some of the cousins canceled camping trips to come to my party. I want everyone to be happy.”

Ginny sighed. “If sugar, caffeine, and cavities are the only thing that will make them happy, who am I to argue?”

Bryn reached for a newly released cart. “Got one.”

There was a traffic jam in the soda aisle. A woman with more children than food in her cart was staring at the prices, one hand on her ample hip. A baby girl with snot on her face grabbed a handful of her brother's hair. The boy squeezed her hand until she released his hair. The baby screeched. The mother turned to glare at the boy. “Bother her one more time, and you're getting a spanking when we get home.”

Bryn put her thumbs in her ears, stuck out her tongue, and wiggled her fingers at the kid. He giggled and copied the motion.

His mother turned to Ginny. “Can you make sense of this sign?”

The sign was the reason Ginny had come here. “It says buy two, get two free.”

A tall, skinny man with a handlebar mustache tried to push his cart past them. There wasn’t room. The wheel nicked Ginny’s baby toe. “Ouch!”

“Learn to drive,” Bryn said.

He turned around, looked Bryn up and down and pointed at the front of his T-shirt, which had a saying offering free mustache rides.

“In your dreams, jerk,” Bryn said.

“Your loss.” He pushed his way down the aisle.

“It’s always so freaking crazy here,” the young mother said. “What if I only want two? If I buy two twelve-packs can I get one of them for free?”

“I’m pretty sure you have to get a total of four.” Ginny wished the woman would get the heck out of the way so that she could grab her four.

“It doesn’t make sense to me.” The woman slowly loaded a twelve pack onto the bottom of her cart. “I mean, they’re making us buy more than we want.”

Ginny didn’t point out that no one was forcing her to buy the soda. Her toe hurt.

Finally, the woman moved on. Ginny reached for a twelve pack. A hand appeared in front of her. “Excuse me.”

“No,” Ginny said, “it’s my turn. You excuse me.”

Ignoring the woman’s frown, Ginny and Bryn grabbed their four twelve-packs of soda and moved on, inching their way down the crowded aisle.

“Should I warn everyone to move out of your way?” Bryn asked.

“I just want to get out of here.”

At the checkout, they found long lines.

Bryn picked up a tabloid. “Oh my God, I can’t believe Kim was caught wearing that in public.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. She had no interest in what the reality star wore.

Bryn flipped through the pages. “I can’t see you dating a mechanic, especially not a hot one. You’d be better off with someone like Hank, less attractive, but with a good job.”

“There’s nothing wrong with Pierce’s job. And why shouldn't I date a hot guy?”

“Attractive men are more likely to be unfaithful.”

“Don't tell me you read that in one of these.” Ginny indicated the magazines.

“Yes. I also read that men with high testosterone are more likely to cheat. It’s their unconscious, biological need to impregnate as many women as possible. Men with less testosterone make better mates. They’re more likely to stick around and participate in child rearing.”

“That’s very useful information, Bryn. I’ll be sure to ask every prospective date to get his testosterone levels checked before I make any commitments.”

“All I’m saying is that certain traits are better in the long run. Average looking guys who don't have especially strong sex drives might not be exciting to date, but they make the best husbands.”

“Are you trying to give me advice, or is this your explanation for why you’re marrying Jason?”

“I’m trying to look out for you is all. I’d hate to see you get hung up on some good looking guy and get hurt.” Bryn shoved the magazine back in its slot upside-down and backward, took a twelve pack of soda out of the cart, and set it on the conveyor belt. “As for Jason, he’s going to be a great dad and a good husband. A guy who has the self -control to wait for marriage won’t cheat. He’s all mine.”

All mine. It was as if Bryn intentionally chose the words she knew would hurt the most. Ginny set a twelve pack on the belt. “It doesn't sound very romantic when you put it like that. More like a practical decision.”

“There’s no reason why love can’t also be practical. I guess I can’t expect you to understand since you’ve never been in love. Or have you?”

She knows. The thought came out of nowhere. It had to be wrong. No way would Bryn have gone for Jason knowing that Ginny was in love with him. “Yes, actually, I have been in love. Have you?”

“What kind of a question is that?” Bryn dropped the next twelve pack of soda onto the belt so hard that the young clerk jumped.

“Sorry,” Ginny said.

“No problem.” The clerk waved her hand encouraging them to continue. “This is the most interesting conversation I’ve heard all day.”

Neither Ginny nor Bryn spoke again until they were in the parking lot. Bryn opened the trunk of her car, and there it was—the giant plastic piggy bank. She took it out. “Let's load the soda into the trunk, and I'll put Piggy in the back seat.”

“You’re not really going to put that thing out?”

“If you’re going to tell me how tacky it is, don’t bother. You’ve already expressed your opinion on that subject, remember?”

“Fine, I’ll keep my opinion to myself.”

“That’ll be a first.”

Ginny stalked off, leaving Bryn to do the loading herself. She drove home. The party wouldn’t be starting for two more hours. She put on her bike shorts. Despite her aching toe, she went on a long, calorie-burning, stress-relieving, bike ride.

****

Uncle Vic and Aunt Maureen lived in a wealthy suburb of Portland. Their house was modest by local standards. A ranch, built in the fifties, it was L-shaped. The lower part of the L had been added on as the party room. The couple loved to entertain. Judging by the number of cars lining the street, the party was already in full swing. The party room was designed to look like a 1950’s diner. The flooring was black and white squares. Against one wall, were booths with red vinyl seats.

On the walls were posters of movie stars from the fifties and sixties, along with photos from previous parties. Grandma Cotton had once attended as a waitress on roller skates. Ginny smiled every time she saw the photo. The room was filled with Cotton cousins, aunts, and uncles. Jason had invited a few friends from chess club, but they couldn't make it, as they were all at a chess tournament this weekend. Ginny spotted Cousin Callie holding a blue bundle and rushed over to see the baby.

“He’s beautiful.” Ginny blinked, embarrassed that the sight of a newborn brought tears to her eyes. “And you look great.”

“Don't lie to me.” Callie grabbed a roll of belly flab. “I gained thirty pounds with this kid and only lost eighteen after he was born. You, on the other hand, have lost weight since I saw you last.”

“Nine pounds so far.” Ginny had lost one more pound as of this morning.

“What a coincidence, that’s exactly how much Logan weighed. If only that was all I gained. Do you want to hold him?”

“Silly question.” Ginny held out her arms. She sat on the sofa, gazing at Logan's tiny bow-shaped mouth. His lips moved even in sleep as if he thought only of food. There was a wisp of soft blonde hair on his head. She trailed her finger over Logan's tiny perfect ears while Callie told the long version of his birth, cheerfully going into far too much detail about torturous labor that ended in a cesarean because the baby's head was too big to fit through her pelvis. Ginny and Callie's mothers stood close by, telling nightmarish stories of their own. Ginny barely listened, her focus on the dozing baby and how right he felt in her arms. She breathed in the scent of baby powder as if it were expensive perfume and opened the receiving blanket as if she were unwrapping a delicate Christmas present. His hands were perfectly formed, his skin the softest thing she’d ever felt.

“So what’s new with you, Ginny?” Callie asked.

Let’s see, my sister stole my guy, though neither he nor she knew that he was mine, so I found a hot guy to have sex with, but…

Ginny sighed. “Nothing.”

Bryn showed up, insisted that Ginny had held Logan long enough and demanded a turn. Ginny reluctantly handed him over. When Bryn started in on her plan to have three children with Jason, Ginny went off to find food. She munched on raw veggies while visiting with various relatives, asking about their lives, admiring their children and avoiding Bryn and Jason. She held another cousin's baby, eleven-month-old Joe, who was as heavy as a tank, and content to be passed around as long as no one took away the bread crust he was gnawing on. Ginny chatted with Cousin Angel, a twelve-year-old whose real name was Belinda. The girl had white-blonde hair and pale blue eyes. Grandpa Cotton had dubbed her Angel because it suited her and it had stuck. Sweet and smart, she'd learned to read at four and devoured books with as much enthusiasm as Joe ate bread crusts. Ginny spent fifteen minutes discussing The Hunger Games with her, and whether or not such events could happen in real life.

Grandma Cotton joined in, as she too had read the books. The three of them were deep in conversation when Jason approached with his mom. Evelyn, a petite, fragile-looking woman, was in her early sixties but looked more like seventy-five. Her hands were always red, as if she'd just finished doing the dishes, and were forever gripping something, in this case, the straps of her purse.

“Hi Evelyn, have you met my grandmother?”

“I don’t think so.”

Grandma Cotton introduced herself as Virginia and complimented Evelyn on her earrings.

“Thank you.” Evelyn touched one delicate, white gold, cross. “Jason bought them for me for Christmas. I’ve never approved of the commercialization of Christmas, all that Black Friday nonsense. He knew that I’d appreciate a tasteful gift, one that reminds me of our savior. My pastor agrees that I must have raised him right…”

It went on this way for awhile. When Evelyn got going, there was no give and take. She talked, and others nodded politely, waiting for the moment when they could make their escape. Angel got out fast, slipping away virtually unnoticed. Grandma Cotton was stuck, but a good sport about it until Evelyn started talking about the moral decline of society and the evil wrought by liberal democrats, at which point Grandma Cotton excused herself and joined Walter and Vic who were standing nearby, discussing a dead tree on her property, and whether they should hire someone to remove it, or take it out themselves. Naturally, they were leaning toward doing it themselves. Ginny hoped they’d do it when her mom was at work, and not tell her about it first, so she wouldn’t make everyone crazy worrying that someone would end up dead.

Stuck, Ginny continued to listen and nod until finally, Evelyn excused herself to use the bathroom. Ginny made her way back to the food table. Bryn and Jason were there with Britney and Carissa. Ginny put two crackers, two slices of turkey and two slices of cheese onto her plate.

“How did it go last night?” Jason asked.

Ginny’s first thought was of Pierce and their game of half-naked house. Of course, Jason didn’t know about that. He was asking about her date with Hank. “Fine.”

“She’s not into Hank,” Bryn said.

“Why not?” Jason asked. “He’s a good guy.”

“Who is Hank?” Britney asked.

“He works with Jason. He’s an engineer. Smart.” Bryn motioned with the hand holding her non-virgin punch, causing some of it to slosh over the side of her glass. “He makes good money.”

“Is he hot?” Carissa stabbed a mini wiener with a toothpick and popped it into her mouth.

“Average,” Ginny said.

“Is he nice?” Britney asked.

Her last boyfriend had cheated on her, and the one before that had cheated with her though she hadn’t known it at the time. Hank didn’t seem like the cheating type.

“You might like him,” Ginny said.

“Ginny’s seeing someone else,” Bryn said.

“Do tell,” Carissa said. “Is he hot?”

“Yes,” Ginny said.

“She called him scorching hot,” Bryn said, with obvious disbelief.

“Scorching?” Jason raised an eyebrow. “Is this the guy you met through the dating site?”

“Yes.”

“Got a photo?” Carissa asked.

Yes, Ginny realized, she did have a photo. She pulled her phone from her purse and brought up the photo of Pierce standing in front of the barbecue. She handed it to Carissa.

“He’s hot.” She passed the phone to Britney.

“I don’t suppose he has a brother,” Britney said.

“Not only does Pierce have a brother, he has an identical twin.”

“He’s probably taken.” Britney passed the phone to Bryn.

“He’s not,” Ginny said.

“I think scorching is a bit of an exaggeration,” Bryn said. “He’s a mechanic. I’d never date a guy who always has grease under his fingernails.”

“Sweetheart,” Aunt Maureen said, arriving in time to hear Bryn’s comment. “There is nothing wrong with a man who does physical labor for a living. My advice to all you girls is to never marry a man who is afraid of getting his hands dirty. It may not be romantic, but when the oil needs changing or the gutters need cleaning, you want a man who will jump right in and fix it.”

“But if he makes enough money, you can just call a repairman.” Bryn reached for one of Jason’s always-clean hands.

“If only it were that simple.” Maureen sighed. “Someday you’ll find out that household emergencies always happen at the worst possible time, usually weekends and holidays when there are no repair people available. Who is this man we’re talking about anyway?”

“Ginny’s new boyfriend.” Bryn handed the phone to Maureen.

“He’s not my boyfriend we’re barely dating.”

“Oh, he is attractive isn’t he?” Maureen said.

“Who is attractive?” Virginia asked as she joined them.

“Ginny’s boyfriend.” Maureen handed the phone to Ginny’s grandma.

“Have you been holding out on me?” Grandma Cotton asked.

“I met him on the dating site. We’ve only gone out a few times. It’s no big deal,” Ginny insisted, embarrassed at all the attention.

“He is a looker.” Grandma Cotton handed the phone back to Ginny. “What’s his name? What does he do?”

“Pierce Vaughn. He and his brother own Vaughn Brother’s Bikes, a motorcycle repair shop.”

“Can’t go wrong having a mechanic in the family,” Grandma Cotton said.

“He hasn’t exactly proposed,” Ginny said. “I mean, we’ve only gone out a few times.”

“If your luck is anything like mine, he probably won’t call again, now that you’ve told everyone about him,” Britney said.

Ginny wished that she hadn’t been thinking the same thing. “We’re having dinner at Chadwick’s tomorrow, so I know we’re going to have at least one more date.”

“Unless he stands you up,” Britney said. “That happened to me once. It was so humiliating. I was actually worried about the guy. I thought he might have been in a car accident or something. I could have forgiven him for that, but when I called him, he made up some lame excuse about his mom being sick, and he had to take care of her.”

There was an awkward pause while everyone felt sorry for Britney.

“What are you going to wear?” Maureen asked.

“I don't know. I haven't even thought about it yet.”

“I only ask because there’s a dress code at Chadwick’s, ties for men, and dresses for women.”

Pierce in a tie?

“It can take months to get a reservation,” Maureen said. “It runs around seventy a plate, and there's something like seven courses. Either your friend has money to throw around, or he's anxious to impress you.”

“We’re actually going with his—”

“Wear your red dress,” Grandma Cotton said. “It looks great on you.”

“Thank you. I’m planning on it.”       

“Seven courses? The last guy I went out with took me to a place with a dollar menu,” Britney said. “The motorcycle business must be booming. Will you set me up with his brother?”

“Uh…”

“It’s too soon for that,” Carissa said. “You have to wait until Ginny has been dating him at least a month. Then you arrange to meet somewhere for drinks, where there’s no pressure.”

Thank you, Carissa.

“Waiting is too risky,” Britney said. “I mean, this isn’t likely to last long.”

“Gee, thanks,” Ginny said.

“It wasn’t anything against you,” Britney said.

Bryn giggled. “You have to admit, Ginny, you don’t have much of a track record. I mean you’ve had how many boyfriends? Not including the one in the fourth grade. Or maybe we’d better include him, to bring the number up to one.”

Ginny opened her mouth to throw an insult at Bryn, but nothing came out. Humiliated, she turned and walked away.

“I was kidding,” Bryn called after her. “Can’t you take a joke?”

Jokes were supposed to be funny. They weren’t supposed to be true. 

Ginny slipped outside to the patio. It was shady here and cool, which was pleasant after all the body heat in the party room. She sat on the hanging swing, wishing the evening were over.

Jason came outside. “Got room for me?”

“Sure.” She scooted to one side.

“I’ve never seen Bryn more than tipsy. I can’t say I like it.”

“I know I don’t like it. Are you sure it’s a good idea to leave her in there with your mom?”

“Your mom is talking, or more accurately, listening, to my mom. My mom is going on about the second coming, which she expects to happen sometime in the near future.”

“Great, something else for my mom to worry about.”

Jason chuckled. “I hope she doesn't start in on gay marriage and how it’s going to lead to the moral decline of society.”

“Are you finally loosening your stance on that one?”

Jason shrugged.

“Does your mom know about Peter?”

“She knows I have a roommate, not that he’s gay. There’s no reason to tell her.”

They were quiet for a few minutes.

“When are we going to finish our game?” Jason asked.

He meant the chess game they’d started four months ago, right before he started dating Bryn.

Ginny shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“How about Monday night?” he asked.

“I’ll be at my parent’s house for Memorial Day. We’re going to visit the cemetery. I suppose we could do it in the evening.”

“Come over around seven then?”

“Sure.” 

“Tell me about Pierce,” Jason said, after a bit.

“Well, let’s see, he plays poker, he’s good at barbecuing, and he looks hot in a motorcycle jacket and black boots.”

“Hm.”

“What does that mean?”

“He doesn't sound like your type.”

“I don’t see Pierce as being a type. He just is.”

“How many times have you been out with him?”

They'd only gone out once, to dinner that first night, but she'd spent five evenings with him, so she counted them all. “Five.”

“And he's taking you to that expensive restaurant?”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It makes me wonder.”

“Wonder what, Jason?”

Jason let out a deep breath. “He's trying hard to impress you, and that makes me wonder what his intentions are.”

“Intentions?” Ginny shoved him, nearly knocking him off the swing, causing it to sway. “You did not just say that.”

“Sorry. I guess it did sound sort of fatherly.”

“Can you imagine my dad asking a guy what his intentions are?”

Jason smiled. “No. He'd make the poor guy admire his woodshop and his pet urns, and in this case, he’d show off his twenty-year-old Honda, too.”

“And offer him a beer and invite him to watch one of those car shows he likes.”

They both laughed.

“That’s a lot better than what happens at my house,” Jason said. “At least no one will insist that he go to church and repent his sins or go straight to hell, no passing go and no collecting two hundred dollars.”

The back door opened and Bryn stumbled out. “Since when is there a step there?”

“Since always,” Ginny said. “Maybe you should slow down on the punch.”

“I’m fine.” Bryn faced Jason, one hand on her hip. “I’ve been looking for you. People are starting to leave. You need to come in and say goodbye to them.”

She sounded so wifely.

Jason sighed and stood up.

Ginny stayed on the swing a few minutes longer, until the chilly air chased her inside.

(Happy Halloween Everyone!)

After work on Wednesday, Ginny took fifty dollars out of her account. She’d been thinking about it all day. She wanted to pay Pierce back the poker money he’d loaned her and let him know that she'd changed her mind. She didn’t need his help to get over her fear of sex. Ginny drove to Vaughn Brother's Bikes. It took her forty-five minutes, twice as long as usual, due to traffic being atrocious.

Steele was out front, talking to a young guy with a lot of tattoos. He smiled at her. “Pierce is in the break room. It’s the door to the left of the front desk.”

“Thanks.” 

The door to the break room stood open. When Ginny saw that Pierce wasn’t alone, she came to an abrupt halt in the doorway. He was talking to an attractive woman, the kind of woman who puts a lot of effort into being attractive. She wore tight jeans, and a low-cut blouse that emphasized her curvy figure. In her arms was a tiny dog with white-orange fur. She didn’t look like someone who would ride a motorcycle.

“Ginny, hi. This is Charmaine.”

Was it her imagination or did Pierce look uncomfortable?

Charmaine nodded at Ginny and spoke to the trembling dog in soothing tones as if it were a frightened infant.

“I um, if you’re busy I can come back later.”

“No busier than usual. My stepmom just stopped by for a minute.”

His stepmom? She looked too young to be his stepmother. “Cute dog. What breed is she?”

“Chihuahua-Pomeranian mix,” Charmaine said. To Pierce she said, “You'll be there on Sunday, right? It would mean a lot to David to have both you boys there to celebrate his birthday.”

“I guess.” Pierce moved, and the dog started yipping.

“Princess doesn't like him,” Charmaine said, continuing to soothe her dog.

“That rat doesn't like anyone,” Pierce said.

“Not true. She has good instincts, and she knows when someone doesn't like her. That's why she's been upset since we got here, and you calling her a rat doesn't help.”

“You can’t tell me she knows what a rat is.” 

“It’s your tone of voice that tells her how you feel.” Charmaine stepped closer to Pierce, putting the dog up to his chest. Princess yapped like mad. Pierce took a step back.

“Now watch this.” Charmaine thrust the dog into Ginny’s arms.

Ginny stroked the trembling creature. It stopped yapping and settled into her arms. Charmaine smiled in approval. “She likes you.”

“She is cute.”

Pierce rolled his eyes. “That wasn't fair. She hates men.”

“With good reason.” Charmaine put her hands over the dog's ears and lowered her voice. “Princess was abused as a puppy, and she's never gotten over it.”

“How sad.” Ginny wondered if Charmaine believed it would upset the dog to hear her talking about it.

“We brought in a pet psychologist a few years ago,” Charmaine went on, “He said it was already too late for Princess to change. She’s not young anymore.”

Yes, Ginny decided, she must believe that. “How old is she?”

“Fourteen.”

“How long do those dogs live anyway?” Pierce asked.

Charmaine shot him a dirty look as she took the dog back from Ginny.

“What? I was just asking.”

“The reservation is at five, don't be late.” Charmaine gave Ginny a little wave as she went out the door.

“Wow.” Ginny realized a second too late that she shouldn’t have said this out loud.

“That’s an appropriate response to meeting Charmaine,” Pierce said.

“She looks too young to be your stepmother.”

“She is. She was nineteen when my dad married her. He was in his thirties. So what’s up?”

Ginny remembered why she was here, and shifted from one foot to the other, lowering her gaze. It landed on Pierce’s chest. There was a picture of Chuck Norris on his T-shirt. She proceeded to tell him all about her mom’s dream, the one where her dad was in a terrible motorcycle accident that involved Chuck Norris and a pond full of croaking frogs.

“Weird,” Pierce said.

“Yes.” Ginny took the money from her pants pocket. “So uh, I just came to pay you back for the poker game.”

“I don’t want your money.”

“I hate feeling like I owe you.”

“You don't owe me anything, but if it makes you feel better, I'll let you cook me dinner instead.”

“What makes you so sure I can cook? Having ovaries doesn’t necessarily make a person a good cook.”

“Testy today aren’t you? Was it something I said?”

“I don’t like it when people make assumptions based on gender.”

“Does that mean you can’t cook?”

“How would you feel if I assumed that you’re great at barbecuing just because you’re male?”

“Barbecuing, that’s an idea. If you bring the steaks over around seven, I’ll get the barbecue going.”

Ginny sighed. “If I use this money to buy dinner, will that make us even?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll be over at seven.”

****

Ginny was at the grocery store when Hank called. While she debated over which steak to buy, Hank asked her out. Ginny accepted. Dinner and a movie on Friday. It was a nice ordinary sounding date with a nice ordinary seeming guy. There wouldn't be any pretend sex. She would not get nervous and break out in hives or faint. There might be a kiss goodnight, and that would be nice, as long as there was no tongue involved.

Ginny arrived at Pierce’s place with a full grocery bag. Along with the steaks, she’d bought potato salad, chips and dip, and her favorite natural soda.

“What’s all this?” Pierce asked, taking the groceries from her. “You were supposed to bring steak, not a week’s worth of food.”

“It’s only forty-eight dollars worth. This will make us even, money-wise.”

“Are you always so exact?”

“Yes.” Ginny started up the stairs in front of him.

In the kitchen, Steele was taking a boxed pizza out of the freezer. His eyes widened when he saw the steaks.

“There’s plenty for you, too.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

He grinned and put the pizza back in the freezer. “Thanks.”

Ginny and Pierce went out to the patio. There was a picnic table, a fire pit, and a grill. A tall wooden fence made the small yard private and quiet. It had been a warm day, but now the sun was too far down to reach the patio. A cool breeze swept in, carrying the scent of chlorine from the hot tub.

Pierce started the grill. Ginny glanced at his backside, admiring the shape of his butt in the faded jeans. He looked domestic in front of the barbecue. She picked up her phone and took his picture. He turned around, and she took another one.

“What was that for?” he asked.

Ginny shrugged, embarrassed at her impulsiveness. “I don’t know, just because.”

Steele came outside holding three beers. He offered one to Ginny. She shook her head.

“That's right. You don't drink.”

“Not much, and never beer.”

Steele sat down and reached for a chip. Ginny glanced at the hot tub and then back at Steele. She wondered if Pierce had ever sat in the hot tub with a naked woman on either side of him. “Do you have many parties here?”

“No, Pierce gets grumpy when people are having fun.” 

“I get grumpy when people pass out on the lawn, and I have to carry them inside. Or when they get so drunk they piss in the hot tub.”

“Gross.” Ginny eyed the hot tub with disgust.

“That only happened once,” Steele said.

“That we know of,” Pierce said.

“I've never understood why people need alcohol to have fun,” Ginny said. “If I have more than one drink, my brain gets fuzzy, and I can't think straight.”

“That’s part of the fun,” Steele said. “Alcohol lowers inhibitions, lets you do things you wouldn’t normally do.”

“Which is why I don't drink. I don't want to do something I'll regret later.”

“You know…” Steele seemed to think better of whatever he was about to say, and reached for a chip.

“What?” Ginny asked, suspecting it had something to do with her offer.

“Nothing. I don’t know about this salsa. Salsa isn’t supposed to have fruit in it.”

“Tomatoes are fruit,” Ginny said.

“If you want to get technical about it, they are, but we think of tomatoes as a vegetable.”

“I don’t.”

“Well, most people do.”

“How do you know most people do?” Ginny said. “Have you done a survey?”

“I suppose that would make about as much sense as some of the other useless surveys out there.”

They continued their conversation about the time and money wasted on surveys until Pierce served up the steaks. When they'd finished eating Steele thanked them for feeding him and went inside. Pierce asked Ginny if she had any plans for the weekend. She told him about the bridal shower on Saturday.

“What are you doing on Friday?”

Twisting her hands in her lap, she focused on the hot tub rather than meet his eyes. “I, um, have a date.”

“Oh.” He sounded disappointed or maybe just surprised. “Someone on the dating site?”

“No. Hank.”

“Is that the guy your friend wants you to meet?”

“Yes. I met him. He's an engineer. He plays chess. So, we have something in common. I should probably tell you now that I'm not comfortable with the idea of dating two people at the same time.”

“You haven’t even gone out with him yet.”

“No, but I’ve been thinking that I should be seeing someone who is interested in dating me for real and doesn't just want to take my virginity.” Why had she used that word? She hated that word.

“You’re the one who offered.”

“I never should have sent that text. You’ll never see me the same way you would have if we’d simply started dating.”

“So you’d rather start fresh with a guy who doesn't know how frustrated you are with dating, and how confused you are about wanting sex and being afraid of it at the same time?”

“Yes, that’s it exactly.”

“Okay then.” Pierce picked up their dishes and carried them inside.

Ginny waited a minute, thinking that he might come back out, might want to talk about it more, might tell her that he wanted to go out with her for real and not just have sex with her. When none of these things happened, she felt silly sitting there by herself and went inside.

Pierce handed Ginny her purse. “If you change your mind…”

Ginny waited for him to finish the sentence, but he didn’t.

“Oh, um okay.” As she started down the stairs to the front door, she heard Pierce mutter the word “chicken.” She stopped, started to turn around, changed her mind and kept going.

                                                         ****

Steele walked into the kitchen. “What happened to Ginny?”

“She changed her mind about the deal.”

“Well, that’s a bummer. For you, not for me.” Steele held out his hand.

“If my plan works, Ginny will be back at least one more time, so there's still a chance of me winning.” Pierce took a fifty dollar bill from his wallet. 

“What plan?” Steele plucked the bill from Pierce’s hand.

Pierce shook his head, rather than explain.

“Does this mean you’re free this weekend?” Steele asked.

“Looks that way, why?”

“Tiffany, the girl I met last weekend, says she’ll meet up with me on Friday, but wants to know if I have a friend for her friend. You interested?”

“That depends. What’s the friend look like?”

Steele brought up a photo on his phone. It was of two women, a blonde, and a brunette, both wearing bikinis and wearing them very well.

“Which one is the friend?”

“Does it matter?”

“No.” Pierce handed the phone back. “I’m in.”

“Good. I think this is what you need.”

“To get laid?”

“It will cheer you up, help you break out of this pattern you’re in.”

“What pattern?”

“You keep falling for women who want something from you. You need to turn things around.”

“And use someone else for a change?”

“Use is such an ugly word. I’m talking about sex for the mutual enjoyment of both parties. It does work best though if you keep emotions out of it. You’re no good at that.”

“And you’re too good at it.”

Steele smiled. “Touché.”

****

Ginny was determined to have a good time with Hank, but determination wasn’t enough. Sitting across from him in a semi-nice restaurant, listening to him go on about a problem at work, including details that no non-tech person could understand—or would want to understand—she decided that Peter had been right. Hank was a bit of a bore, especially when he went on to explain, in far too much detail, how he alone had solved the work problem. Ginny nodded a lot, her thoughts on Pierce, as they had been since Wednesday night. Why hadn’t she told him she had plans for Friday and left it at that? She shouldn't have told him the deal was off. What was he doing tonight? Did he have a date? If she were with Pierce right now what would they be doing?

The server arrived with the check. Ginny reached into her purse for her wallet and felt a bill. She pulled it out. It was a fifty. For a moment, she stared at it in confusion. She never left loose bills in her purse. She remembered Pierce handing her her purse the other night. This must be his way of refusing to take back the poker money she’d lost. It was sneaky, downright devious of him.

“What’s funny?” Hank asked.

“Nothing,” Ginny said, embarrassed to realize she was smiling.

Hank eyed the money. “I have this.”

Ginny was so busy planning how she'd give the money back to Pierce that she forgot to argue with Hank. She did insist on paying for the movie. She didn't pay much attention to it though. When it ended, it was only ten-thirty. Hank yawned several times on the drive to her house, apologized, and then started in again on what a rough week he'd had.

When they reached her apartment, Hank parked on the street and turned off the engine. Did he expect her to invite him in, or did he want to continue the conversation in the car?

His hand came to rest on her leg, right above her knee. “I had a nice time tonight.”

Ginny’s pulse began to race for the first time all evening. She didn’t want to be rude, but also didn’t want to lie, and say she’d had a great time because that might encourage him to ask her out again, or worse, kiss her.

“Thanks for dinner.” Ginny opened the door so fast that the edge of it stuck in the grass. She tugged on it. “Oh shoot, it's stuck.”

Ginny jumped out of the car and tried pushing the door closed but only succeeded in digging it in deeper.

Hank came around to her side of the car. “This isn’t good for the paint.”

“Sorry.” Ginny felt like an idiot.

Hank got the door unstuck, brushed the dirt from it, and closed it. “It’s fine.”

He didn’t sound sincere.

“I’m really sorry.”

“You must have been pretty anxious to get out of the car, to have thrown the door open so hard.”

How embarrassing, to be so transparent. “You seem tired, so I thought…”

“I talked too much didn’t I?”

“No.”

“People used to tell me that I didn't talk enough. So now, when I meet someone new, I get nervous and do the opposite. You were bored out of your mind listening to me go on about work, weren't you?”

“No. Okay a little, but it's alright. I mean, don't feel bad. I'm lousy at dates too. When I get nervous, I pee a lot.”

“I thought you were going into the ladies room to text or something.”

“No, I really had to go.”

“All four times?”

“It was only three.”

“Before dinner, after dinner, during the movie, and then again after the movie.”

“Okay, four. That must be a record, even for me.”

They both laughed. After an awkward pause, Hank held out his hand. It took her a second to realize what he wanted. She shook it.

“Friends?”

“Yes.” 

As soon as she was inside, Ginny called Pierce. He didn’t answer. It was Friday night. Did he have a date? She went into the bathroom, brushed her teeth, and squirted face wash into her palms. Her phone rang. She glanced at the screen, saw that it was Pierce, quickly rinsed off the soap, dried her hands, and answered. “Hello?”

“You called.”

“I found the money. You know I’m going to give it back.”

“What are you doing right now?”

“Nothing.”

“I thought you were out with Hank.”

“I was. Now I’m home. What’s that noise?”

“A hand dryer. I’m in the john. Let’s play for it.”

“What?”

“The money. We’ll play poker for it.”

“When?”

“Now. I’m at a club downtown. I need to get out of here. Pick me up?”

“Uh, okay, I can do that.”

He gave her the address and said he’d be waiting outside.

Instead of washing her face, Ginny touched up her makeup. She wondered who Pierce had gone to a club with and why he was so anxious to leave. She’d find out soon enough.

It was busy downtown. Ginny thought she might have to drive around the block a time or two, but she found Pierce right away. She stopped in the middle of the road, while he got in.

“Thanks. I swear this is the last time I let Steele fix me up with someone.”

“That bad?”

“She turned twenty-one two weeks ago, and kept bragging about how many drinks she can down and still walk. Within ten minutes, she was telling me about the Asian woman who does her bikini wax.”

“You’re not interested in bikini waxes?”

“Not particularly, no.”

“So you ditched her?”

“I don't think she minded. She'd already found someone else to grind on. So what's wrong with Hank?”

“What makes you think there’s something wrong with him?”

“Your date ended before eleven, and now you’re with me.”

He had a point. “There’s nothing wrong with Hank. He’s a nice guy.”

“But not what you’re looking for?”

“No.”

When they got to Pierce's house, he made them each a screwdriver. Ginny sat on the sofa. Pierce sat on a footstool on the opposite side of the coffee table.

“Winner gets the fifty bucks,” Pierce said as he passed out the cards.

Ginny looked at her hand. Her highest card was a ten. She watched Pierce discard two cards. This was going to be easy.

“How many?”

“None. I’ll keep what I have.”

Pierce took his new cards. They both showed their hand. Pierce won with a pair of threes.

“It’s all yours.” Ginny smiled.

“You cheated.”

“I didn’t cheat.”

“You purposely kept a bad hand and didn’t even try to win. That’s worse than cheating.”

“Winning isn’t everything.” Ginny gave him the money. “It’s done. We’re even. No giving it back.”

Pierce sighed. He put the bill in his wallet. “Fine. You win.”

Ginny scooped up the cards, shuffled, and passed out five. “Five card stud, deuces are wild.”

“Now what are we playing for?” Pierce asked.

“Truth,” Ginny said, as the idea came to her. “The winner gets to ask the loser a question. He has to answer honestly.”

Pierce looked at her over the top of his cards. “Truth?”

“Yes,” Ginny said, with more confidence than she suddenly felt.

“Let’s make it even more interesting and play for truths and dares.”

Ginny felt a twinge of something. She wasn’t sure if it was anxiety or excitement. Both, she decided. “Okay.”

She held on to the king of hearts and discarded the rest. Pierce kept two cards. She watched his face, found it impossible to read. He gave her four new cards. One was the king of clubs. Ginny kept her expression neutral. A pair of kings was good, but would it beat whatever he held?          

“How about it Ginny? Are you betting?”

She nodded. “I bet one truth and one dare.”

“I’ll raise you a truth.”

“Okay. I’ll call it.”     

Ginny revealed her kings.

“You got me.” Pierce turned over his hand.

A pair of tens.

Ginny smiled. “So that’s two truths and one dare, right?”

Pierce nodded. Did he look uncomfortable, or was she imagining it? She finished off her drink. The vodka was making her bold. “How old were you the first time you had sex and what was her name?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Fourteen. Desiree.”

“That’s young. How old was she?”

His eyes darted away. He shuffled faster. “You got your two truths. You don't get another one unless you want to trade a dare for a truth?”

“No. I’ll use my dare.”

“Okay. What’s it going to be?”

“I’m thinking,” she lied, already knowing what she wanted.

“Take your time.” Pierce continued to shuffle.

It wouldn't be a big deal to a guy. So why did she feel nervous asking? “Take your shirt off.”

“That’s the best you can do? No riding my motorcycle a hundred miles an hour past the police station, or anything like that?”

“I don’t want you dead, or in jail.” I’d rather have you naked.

Pierce took off his shirt and set it on the back of the sofa. His skin was a nice shade, not too pale. His chest looked solid, his belly flat. A trail of black hair started at his navel, descended into the mystery below the waistband of his jeans. Her heart should not be pounding this hard. 

Pierce passed out the cards. “Same game.”

Ginny lost. Pierce’s three sixes beat her pair of nines. She owed him a truth and a dare.

“Let’s do the truth first. Was there a specific reason why you decided it was time to lose your virginity? If yes, what was it?”

“I hate that word.”

“What word?”

“Virginity. It’s not an object to be given, or taken, or lost. It’s merely a state of being.”

Pierce smiled. “Let me rephrase it then. Why did you choose this particular time to change your state of being?”

Ginny didn’t like this one. She didn’t want to tell him about Jason, didn’t want to admit that her dream guy was marrying her sister.

“Your poker face is failing you, Ginny. Come on, tell me the truth.”

Ginny took a deep breath. “I got tired of waiting for the right guy to come along. There’s also the anxiety thing.”

“Were you anxious with Hank tonight?”

“You don’t get another question.”

“That's right. I get a dare.” Pierce smiled.

His smile did funny things to her insides.

“You started this, so I'll continue it. I dare you to strip down to bra and panties.”

It was her fault that he’d gone in this direction, so she couldn’t exactly say no, could she? Which pair of underwear did she have on? Bikinis or super comfortable granny panties? Bikinis, please be bikinis, a nice pair.

“Okay, but first I have to go to the uh…” she motioned toward the bathroom.

Ginny was relieved to discover that she was wearing bikinis, pale pink and fairly new. Her bra was lavender. It hooked in the front, exposing a bit of cleavage. Only her upper half was visible in the mirror, which was just as well. She didn’t need reminding that her tummy was a bit soft, her thighs not as slender or firm as they could be. Ginny took a deep calming breath. And then another, before returning to the sitting room.

Pierce handed her a drink, his gaze zooming in on the hook of her bra, as if he were taking note of its location for future reference. “I thought you might want another.”

“Thanks.”

Ginny sat up straighter than before, trying to keep her belly sucked in while Pierce deftly shuffled the cards.

Ginny won the next hand with a full house. Pierce now owed her a truth and a dare. He’d looked guilty when she’d asked about Desiree’s age. Did that mean that she’d been very young? “How old was Desiree the first time you had sex?”

He hesitated, let out a breath. “Twenty.”

“You’re kidding. That’s not even legal. Did your parents know?”

“They found out. My dad had her arrested when he caught us. That kind of put a damper on things.”

“I’m sure. It couldn’t have done much for your relationship with your dad, either.”

“It didn’t. I didn’t like him telling me what to do. I didn’t like anyone telling me what to do, so I moved in with my mom for a couple of years. She was too into her own life to pay much attention to what I was doing.”

“What were you doing?”

“Nothing good, partying mostly. So what’s my dare?”

She didn’t mean to drop her gaze, didn’t mean to look directly at the front of his pants, it just happened. When she looked up, his eyes met hers, his eyebrows slightly raised.

“Jeans.” She took another deep drink from her glass.

Pierce stripped off his jeans. His boxer briefs were black, snug. It looked like…but she wasn’t quite sure…

“It’s your deal.”

Ginny picked up the cards and began to shuffle. They slipped from her fingers. She leaned over and picked them up. When she straightened, she caught Pierce eyeing her chest. If he could look, so could she. Ginny had more reason to be curious than he did, after all. This was new to her. She focused on his lap. Definitely sure. “It doesn’t take much for uh, that to happen, does it?”

“I wouldn’t call you not much Ginny.”

The cards slipped again. Red-faced, she gathered them up, shuffled, and dealt.

Ginny lost to a pair of threes. She owed him a dare.

“I dare you to play Half-naked house with me.”

Pierce’s voice had lowered to a sexy tone that awakened the desire deep within—oh hell, it was time to stop kidding herself. Her desire didn’t need to be awakened. It was wide awake all the time and ten-fold when Pierce was anywhere near her. “Okay, but we keep our underwear on.”

“Half- Naked.” He confirmed as he moved to the sofa. :It's been a rough week. We argued, and we haven't had sex since Monday. We need to make up for it.”

“Yes.” Ginny/Melissa trailed her fingertips across his shoulder. She pressed her lips to the side of his neck. Her husband’s skin was smooth and hot. She liked the taste and the feel of it. “I’ve missed touching you these last few days.”

The first kiss landed softly on her mouth, the next one under her left ear. More trailed down her throat to her chest. When he reached the inside curves of her breasts, her chest rose and fell at a rapid rate. His hand cupped her left breast, stroking it through the thin material of her bra. A little pleasure sound escaped her.

Pierce stood up, took her hand. Ginny let him lead her into the bedroom. On the bed, she closed her eyes and tried to relax, reminding herself that there was nothing to be nervous about. They weren’t getting naked.

It started with him on top, like before, and then Pierce rolled over, switching places.

“It’s your turn, Melissa,” he whispered. “Use me however you want.”

Straddling his hips, nothing between them but a bit of cotton, Ginny let herself pretend. He was her husband, after all. He’d given her permission to use him for her own pleasure. She didn’t hold back.

****

Ginny sat on the sofa waiting for Pierce. She’d used the bathroom first. It was his turn to clean up. They’d both “won” this round.

Pierce came out dressed in shorts and a T-shirt. He sat beside her. Ginny tried to think of something to say. Nothing came to mind.

“Can I ask you something?” Pierce said.

“Um, yeah, I guess.”

“I’m just wondering if maybe you had a bad experience with some guy, and that’s why you have so much anxiety about sex.”

Ginny thought about this for a moment. “I think maybe it’s just the way I am. I was a shy kid. It got worse in high school. I saw a therapist for a while. She taught me some strategies that helped, but I didn’t really change. The social part of high school was pure misery. I’ve always been too sensitive I guess. In college, there was an incident with this one guy. I’ve never told anyone about it.”

“You can tell me if you feel like it.”

“It’s going to sound dumb. I mean it’s not as if…he didn’t hurt me or anything.”

“But something happened.”

“Yes.” Ginny closed her eyes. Pierce had kept his word. He hadn’t tried to break the rules. Hadn't he earned a bit of trust? “Okay. I went to a party, and I had a few drinks. It didn't take much for me to get drunk. I ended up in a bedroom with this guy, and things got weird. Weird and then awful, because I laughed when I shouldn't have laughed.”

“Laughed at what?”

“It’s embarrassing.”

“I won’t laugh, I promise.”

He sounded sincere enough. “We were kissing, and he was trying to get my shirt off and then all of a sudden he stood up and dropped his pants. There it was, bobbing up and down. He stood there like he expected me to be impressed, or worse, do something with it. It struck me as funny. Once I started laughing, I couldn’t stop.”

“You laughed at a guy when his pants were down?”

“Yes. He didn’t like it too much.”

“I bet not.”

“He called me a tease, said I wasn’t even cute, I was a terrible kisser, and he was only with me because I have big boobs, only he put it more crudely than that.”

“Ass-hole.”

“What got to me is that there was some truth to it.”

“What truth?”

“The kissing part. I don't know how to do it, especially the tongue thing. I get nervous, and that makes it worse.”

“Maybe you just need practice.”

“You think I could learn?”

“Sure. We can work on it next time.”

 Next time? She liked the sound of that.

“What are you doing this weekend?”

“My sister’s bridal shower is at five. On Sundays, I visit my parents, but I don’t stay all day. Well, sometimes I do, but I don’t have to.”

“I work on Sundays for part of the day. We could do something in the evening.”

“Wait, isn’t that when your dad’s birthday dinner is?”

“Oh, yeah. I guess I was trying to forget about that. I have an idea. You should come with me.”

“Dinner with your family?”

“Have you ever been to Chadwick’s?”

“No.”

“The food is great, but it takes hours to eat, because there are six or seven courses. Sitting through it with my family is torture. If you're there, it would be more tolerable.”

It wasn’t exactly a romantic offer, but he sounded so excited by the idea of her going that Ginny agreed. Or maybe it was just that she hadn’t left yet, and already she wanted to see him again.

Saturday was sunny and warm. In the morning, Ginny went on a long bike ride. For lunch, she ate a salad brimming with vegetables and a few pieces of grilled chicken, with the dressing that tastes like glue.

At four, she left to meet Bryn at the apartment she shared with Carissa and Britney. Bryn and Britney had met at community college. Britney now worked as a sales rep for a department store. Bryn had met Carissa at beauty school, which was Bryn’s most recent school experience. She’d lasted two months in a salon before declaring that women are psycho about their hair.

The brick apartment building was relatively small, only eight units. There were hanging flower baskets everywhere. The outside of the building always smelled like flowers and dryer sheets, reminding Ginny of visits to the retirement home where her mother’s parents had lived for a few years before the hospital, hospice, and death. They’d died within a week of each other, a tribute to true love or codependency, hard to say which.

Britney answered the door. Short and curvy, she had light brown skin (Mexican grandmother, Native American father) and a new hairstyle, as she did pretty much every time Ginny saw her. Short, and choppy, it had a messy look, made more so by streaks of blonde. “Oh my God, I can't believe Bryn is getting married, can you?”

“I guess I don’t have much choice do I?”

Carissa, an attractive redhead with freckles, came into the room. “Bryn’s still getting ready. We’ve been planning her bachelorette party. It’s going to be here, the Saturday before the wedding. We hired a stripper, of course. His name is Tex, and you’re not going to believe how hot he is.”

“Let’s show her,” Britney said.

Ginny followed them into the kitchen. She couldn't imagine eating in this room. It smelled like months worth of boxed dinners. Dirty pans and dishes filled the sink and covered the counters. There were empty cans everywhere, mostly diet soda and light beer. Carissa’s laptop was open on the table. Carissa brought up the website for exotic dancers. Tex filled the screen. Tight jeans, no shirt, tanned and ripped torso. He wore a white cowboy hat and had one hand on the brim as if he were tipping his hat to them. He had a gorgeous face and a seductive smile that showed off dazzlingly white teeth.

“Isn’t he yummy?” Britney said.

“Yes,” Ginny said.

“He can lasso me any day,” Carissa said.

“For him, I’d wear wranglers and cowboy boots and learn to ride a horse,” Britney said.

“Forget the horse,” Carissa said. “Tex would be ride enough for me.”

While the three of them stood there ogling Tex, Ginny felt a sort of kinship with Carissa and Britney.

Bryn came out of her room. “Did you show her Tex?”

“We did,” Britney said.

“Nice,” Ginny said.

“Do you think Jason will have a bachelor party with strippers?” Carissa asked.

“No,” Ginny said.

They all looked at her funny because the question had been directed at Bryn, but Ginny didn’t care. She knew Jason better than Bryn did.

“He might,” Bryn said.

“He won’t. You know he won’t,” Ginny said. “Strippers are not his style.”

“Maybe not, but Jason has been full of surprises since I started dating him.” 

“Like what?” Ginny asked.

Bryn wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. “Nothing I can tell you.”

Ginny waved the comment away with a flick of her hand, hoping they’d all believe that she didn’t care, that it didn’t bother her one bit.

They took two cars to the mall. Ginny drove, and Bryn rode with her. Ginny regretted the arrangement immediately. All Bryn talked about was Jason.

“Would you believe he likes to go clothes shopping with me?”

“No,” Ginny said.

“He never complains about waiting outside the dressing room and even makes suggestions. He’s the only guy who has ever been interested in what I’m putting on, instead of what I’m taking off.”

Was Jason so in love with Bryn that even her clothes fascinated him?

“We’ve been having fun updating his wardrobe too. He admitted that he worries too much about what other people think, and was afraid of trying something different.”

This did sound like Jason.

“Jason told me that he has some anxiety issues same as you do. He says that you two talk about it sometimes.”

“We do,” Ginny said. She and Jason had had many conversations about their hang-ups, as well as lengthy intellectual discussions about life in general.

“On Saturday we talked about him being shy in social situations,” Bryn said. “At dinner with his coworkers, I did more talking than he did. Afterward, we had drinks with Hank and Peter, and then we went back to Jason's. We talked until like three in the morning, about life and stuff. Did you know that he had a younger brother who died?”

“Yes. He was four months old. It was Sudden Infant Death Syndrome.”

“Jason thinks that’s part of why his dad drank himself to death.”

Junior year had been a terrible time for Jason, and Ginny had been there for him, offering comfort, listening when he needed to talk.

“We had dinner with Jason’s mother last week,” Bryn said. “Evelyn is so nice.”

“A little too nice, don’t you think?”

“What do you mean?”

“Haven’t you noticed how much she loves to talk about all of her good deeds?”

“She did tell me about one of her volunteer jobs. She doesn’t just take meals to old people, she stays and visits with them and listens when they talk about all of their aches and pains. There’s nothing wrong with that kind of nice.”

They were in a parking garage now, circling, in search of an empty spot. It seemed that everyone in Portland had decided to go to the mall today. “There's nothing wrong with doing good deeds, but Evelyn wants everyone to know how selfless and giving she is.”

“She prays a lot too,” Bryn said. “There’s nothing wrong with that either, I guess, but she even told me how many people she is currently praying for and why.”

“She takes the bible a bit too literally if you ask me.” Ginny maneuvered into an open space.

“No kidding. I’m hoping that Jason will change his mind about waiting for marriage now that we’re engaged.”

“I wouldn't count on that.”

“But what if we wait and we're not compatible? What if the sex is bad?”

 “Maybe he won’t notice,” Ginny said. “Since he won’t know how it could have been with someone else.”

“I meant bad for me.”

Ginny laughed.

“Ha, ha, very funny,” Bryn said. “Actually, I take it back. I’m not worried. What we have is so much more than sex. We’ve really connected, you know?”

Ginny got out of the car and closed the door harder than was necessary. She was the one Jason connected with. Why couldn't he see that?

Two hours later they were in their fifth dressing room, having left a trail of discards in the last four. Dozens of dresses had been tried, and rejected. Bryn kept insisting that they match for the photos. Ginny’s feet hurt. She wanted to be done with it but didn’t want to go through it all again another day.

Carissa hogged the full- length mirror, admiring her slender figure in a simple, form-fitting, turquoise dress that was reasonably priced. “I like this one.”

“Me too,” Bryn said.

Britney stepped out of a dressing room wearing the same dress. “I like it.”

“Your turn.” Bryn handed Ginny an identical dress in two different sizes.

Ginny went into a dressing room. Please, please, please fit and look decent.

The first one was too small. The second one fit everywhere except in the bust.

“Well?” Bryn said through the dressing room door.

“This one doesn’t fit either.”

“Open the door and show us,” Bryn said.

Ginny sighed, opened the door and stepped out. Carissa and Bryn were in front of the three-way mirror. Carissa seemed quite pleased with her reflection and was reassuring Britney that she did not look fat in the dress.

“It almost fits,” Bryn said. “Maybe a size up?”

“A size up would be too big everywhere else,” Britney said.

“You don't need a bigger size, just smaller boobs,” Bryn said. “You always say you lose weight in your chest first, so just lose a few more pounds.”

“I’m going to keep trying, but what if it doesn't work? I can’t wear it like this. I look slutty.”

“You can’t look slutty, that’s Carissa’s role,” Britney said, giggling.

“Wait until you see the fuck-me-heels I plan to wear with this,” Carissa said. “My role is safe.”

“I’d like to get rid of my roll.” Britney grabbed a bit of fat at her waist.

“You can do it, Ginny,” Bryn said. “This is the one.”

Ginny wanted to get out of the mall too badly to argue. First, she had to endure Bryn taking pictures of them all with her phone.

Bryn asked Ginny to take her to Jason’s house. By the time they got there, Ginny was already regretting the dress. She was tired of being hungry all the time.

“Any luck?” Jason asked the moment they walked in the door.

“Yes, and we have news,” Bryn said.

“What?” Jason asked.

“Britney and Carissa want to throw me a little bachelorette party. They’ve even hired entertainment.”

“Tex,” Ginny said. “He does look entertaining.”

“He’s probably gay,” said Peter who was sitting on the sofa with his dumbbell. “Most male strippers are.”

Bryn waggled her eyebrows at Peter, “Are you hinting that you’d like to be invited?”

“No,” he said with a look of distaste. “But I think Jason should get a party too."

“I don’t need a party,” Jason said.

“I think Peter is right.” Bryn wrapped her arms around Jason’s neck. “I want you to have fun, too.”

“I suppose I could have a few friends over,” Jason said. “So, let’s see this dress.”

Bryn got out her phone to show Jason the photos.

Ginny watched Jason’s face, hoping for some indication that he found her sexy. In the movies, the right dress could make a man see a woman in a whole new light, and suddenly realize he was madly in love with her. 

“It’s too small in the bust,” Jason said.

Ginny felt her cheeks get warm. 

“It’ll be fine once she loses a couple more pounds.” Bryn took the phone from Jason and walked over to Peter, who had set down his dumbbell and picked up a men’s health magazine. She held the phone between the magazine and his face. “What do you think?”

Peter shrugged. “Why are you asking me?”

“Because gay guys are supposed to have an opinion on this kind of thing,” Bryn said, with a sigh of exasperation.

Peter responded with a withering stare. “Ginny should wear whatever she feels like wearing.”

“Thank you,” Ginny said. “I’m going to wear my red dress.”

“You can’t wear red to a wedding,” Bryn said.

“Fine, I’ll wear what I have on. I like this outfit.”

“You can’t wear pants to my wedding.”

“If you’re going to be that way about it, I’ll wear spandex shorts and a tank top. Can I borrow one of yours, Peter?”

Peter dropped the magazine, tore off his pink tank top and tossed it to her. “Knock yourself out.”

Jason chuckled. Bryn glared. Ginny decided it was time to leave.

Once in her car, she checked her phone to see if Pierce had sent her a text and somehow she’d missed it. He hadn’t. She’d brought his jokers with her, in case he called and asked about them. Should she send him a text and offer to bring over the cards? It seemed too soon, as she'd just seen him the night before. What was the protocol here? They weren't dating so dating rules wouldn't apply, even if she knew what they were. It was Saturday night. He might have gone out. Or he could be at home. Maybe he'd be happy to hear from her and invite her in and…Ginny realized that she was stroking Pierce's jokers with her free hand.

She started the car. She’d tell him she was in the neighborhood and decided to drop by to give him his cards.

When she arrived at Pierce's house, there were no parking spots anywhere on the block. There were several vehicles on the lawn. Ginny parked at the end of the driveway, blocking the sidewalk. It looked like they were having a party. The idea of knocking on the door uninvited suddenly seemed all wrong. If Pierce had wanted her here, he would have invited her. He could be nude hot-tubbing with a woman—or two or three women. He might not appreciate her being here. Ginny had decided to back out of the driveway when a motorcycle pulled in and parked sideways behind her. She rolled down her window to ask the guy if he could move his vehicle. One glimpse of the scary looking biker, and she immediately slunk down in the front seat and pretended to be texting. Please don’t see me. Please don’t ask me why I’m here.

The biker walked up to the front door. What now? She was trapped. What the heck was she thinking, showing up here?

Ginny’s phone rang. It was Pierce. “Hello?”

“Hey Ginny, how’re you doing?”

“Fine.”

“That’s good. So uh, you’re not by any chance parked in front of my house are you?”

“Um, well, yes.” She could see Pierce now, standing on the front porch. She gave him a little wave. “I have your jokers. You left them at my house. I was in the area so I thought I’d stop by and bring them to you. It looks like you’re busy.”

“It's poker night. I don't need the jokers, but you can bring them up.”

“Oh, okay.”

Pierce greeted her at the front door, barefoot, wearing faded jeans with a hole in one knee, and a black T-shirt with a beer logo on the front.

She handed him the jokers.

“Do you want to come in?”

Did she? “So, um, do you play for money?”

“We do. With this crowd, things sometimes get a bit out of hand, but if you don’t mind obscene language, bad manners, and general drunkenness, you’re welcome to watch a few hands.”

“You’re only inviting me to watch, not play?”

“You just learned the game. I’d hate to see you lose your money.”

“What makes you so sure I’ll lose?”

He shrugged. “If you’re willing to put up ante, you can take your chances like everyone else, I guess.”

“What’s ante again?”

Pierce drew her inside, shaking his head. “At least watch a couple of hands first, and see how it’s done.”

“Okay.”

Ginny followed him upstairs to the dining room. It was warm in the room, despite the cool breeze coming in through the sliding glass door that opened onto a deck. There were four men, including Steele, sitting around the table. Pierce introduced them. The biker’s name was Carl. He had a soft voice that didn’t match his rough exterior and was drinking flavored water. Oliver was slim, attractive, black, and wore glasses. Tanner had a buzz cut, wore a sleeveless T-shirt that showed off biceps twice the size of Peter’s, and held an unlit cigarette between his teeth. They were sharp pointy teeth that gave him a dangerous look.

Pierce offered Ginny her choice of soda, flavored water, beer or something stronger. She chose tap water because the flavored water contained cancer-causing artificial sweeteners. Ginny took the chair between Pierce and Tanner. When Tanner gave her the once over, she inched her chair closer to Pierce. She watched several hands, taking note of which cards Pierce kept, which ones he tossed out, and how he bet. The ante was a dollar.

“What’s the most anyone has won here?” Ginny asked.

“About two hundred,” Pierce said.

“That was me,” Steele said, smiling.

“I still think you cheated,” Oliver said.

“You were wasted and seeing things,” Steele said. “I can’t believe you accused me of keeping aces up my sleeve.”

“What about the time there were five aces in the deck,” Oliver said. “I don’t know how you can call that an accident.”

“How many times do I have to explain this?” Steele said. “We have two identical decks. They got mixed together the night Tanner flipped out over losing sixty bucks and knocked all the cards on the floor.”

Oliver rolled his eyes.

“It wasn’t my fault, right Pierce?” Steele said.

“Sure, whatever you say.”

Every time Pierce’s right hand was free, it came to rest on Ginny’s leg. It was a small thing, but she liked the familiarity of it. She didn’t say much but enjoyed listening to the banter between the guys. She could tell from the way they occasionally cut off their sentences that they were toning it down for her sake. Except for Tanner, whose cursing was particularly crude. She learned about the men and the game by observing. Oliver tapped his fingers when he had a good hand. Tanner got quiet. Carl was harder to figure out, as the poor guy never seemed to get a good hand. Pierce kept a straight face through every hand while Steele did the opposite. He was always smiling, and yet it seemed as if he smiled wider when he had a lousy hand.

“I want to play,” Ginny said. “But I don’t have any cash on me.”

“No problem, I’ll cover you,” Pierce said.

“Thanks.”

Steele won the next hand. Tanner won the two after that.

Pierce patted Ginny’s leg. “Maybe you should quit while you’re—”

“Behind? No. I'm not quitting just because I lost a few hands. If I thought like that, I'd never have made Master.”

“Master? Is that some kind of BDSM thing?” Tanner asked, giving Ginny a look that she found creepy.

“It’s a ranking in chess,” Pierce said. “It means she’s smart.”

“It also means I don’t give up easily,” Ginny said.

“Fine by me.” Tanner dealt the next hand. “I don't care how smart you are. I have no problem taking your money.”

Ginny studied her cards, annoyed that once again she’d gotten a lousy hand. She kept a nine and tossed out the other four cards. When she got two more nines, she kept her face as neutral as possible. This was it, something worth betting on.

Steele and Carl folded. Everyone else put their money in. Oliver lay down three fours. Tanner muttered a curse and turned his cards face down.

Feeling triumphant, Ginny showed her hand.

“Sorry.” Pierce put down a full house, two fives, and three sixes.

“No need to apologize,” Ginny said, trying to hide her disappointment as she watched him collect the pot.

The next hand wasn’t much better for Ginny, king high. She decided to try bluffing. She smiled as if she’d gotten something good, and then made an effort to keep a straight face while strumming her fingers as if she was excited. Her plan worked too well. Everyone folded and all she got was ante.

They played on for another hour. Carl was the first to give up. “I’m out of here. Nice meeting you, Ginny.”

“You too.” Ginny meant it. Carl had been quiet, but polite.

Oliver was the next to leave.

Ginny had been keeping track of the money Pierce loaned her. “If my math is right, I owe you forty-eight dollars.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“What do you mean don’t worry about it? I played for real. I’ll pay my debts.”

“This was your maiden voyage. You get a pass.”

“I don’t want a pass.”

“Well, you don’t have a choice. I’m not taking your money.”

“You're being sexist. If I were a guy, you'd take my money, even on the first time.”

Steele chuckled. Ginny noticed that his eyes were glossy from too much alcohol. She glared at him. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” he said with mock innocence.

At the front door, Pierce’s hand rested lightly on her back. He turned toward the stairs that led to the basement. “Do you want to stay?”

Ginny could hear Tanner and Steele’s loud voices coming from the kitchen, Tanner cursing every other word.

“It bothers me that Steele knows about my, um, offer. The way he smiles all the time makes me feel like he’s laughing at me.”

“That's not it. He's a salesman. He can't help smiling all the time. He's also drunk.”

Pierce unfolded her arms and put them around his neck. His hands came to rest on her hips. This caused a jolt of excitement.

He kissed her. For a “lips only” kiss it was far from chaste. Ginny swayed toward him and felt another jolt of excitement when their hips came together. She felt his warm breath in her ear.

“Stay.”

“Fuck,” Tanner said. “I need to take a crap.”

“Turn the fan on this time,” Steele said. “Last time I damn nearly keeled over.”

Ginny giggled.

Pierce did not look amused. “Sorry. Steele’s drunk and Tanner is an asshole. I don’t know why Steele hangs out with him. Do you want to go downstairs?”

Ginny shook her head. “I should go.”

As she walked to her car, it occurred to her that this was another win for Sensible Ginny.

****

Pierce found Steele in the kitchen, holding a full shot glass and smiling. “You didn’t even get her downstairs. I’m disappointed in you.”

“If you weren’t grinning like an idiot, she might not have left. It bothers her that you know about her offer.”

“What you need,” Steele went on, as if Pierce hadn’t spoken, “is extra incentive. How about we double our bet? A hundred bucks and the loser cleans the kitchen for two weeks?”

“What are you betting on?” Tanner asked, as he entered the kitchen.

“Nothing,” Pierce said.

“Come on, tell me. I want in.”

“Pierce wants in too,” Steele said, grinning. “That’s what we’re betting on.”

“That girl?” Tanner’s eyes lit up. “You’re betting he can’t pork her? How much?”

“Fifty,” Steele said.

Tanner pulled a few bills out of his pocket. “I’m definitely in. She looked a bit uptight.”

“Jesus, you’re both assholes,” Pierce said. “We’re not betting on Ginny.”

“Too late, we already did,” Steele said.

Knowing there was no point in talking to Steele in his current condition, or to Tanner in any condition, Pierce didn’t bother trying.

****

It was raining when Ginny arrived at her grandmother’s house on Sunday. Her dad’s motorcycle was nowhere in sight, which was a relief. She found her mother, grandmother, and sister in the kitchen. The room smelled of cinnamon. There was coffee cake on the counter.

Bryn stood next to it, waiting for it to cool. Calories meant nothing to Bryn. They simply burned away the moment they entered her body. Ginny tried not to hate her for it.

Bryn wore a long skirt and a button up blouse that was downright dowdy.

“Did you have a job interview or something?”

“I went to church with Jason and his mother. I’m worried that Evelyn expects this to be a regular thing. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I like to sleep in on Sunday mornings. Besides, it was boring.”

“I do hope you and Jason have discussed your religious differences,” Janelle said.

“We have,” Bryn said. “I told him I’d go sometimes, and he’s okay with that. It’s just that Evelyn is very into church. It’s hard to tell how Jason really feels about things. When he’s around his mother I get the feeling he’ll say anything to make her happy.”

“Yep,” Ginny said. “He’s always been that way.”

“You have to tread carefully here,” Janelle said. “Set boundaries right from the start, or you’ll always play second fiddle to his mother.”

Ginny knew that her mother was speaking from experience. The annoyed sound that came from Grandma Cotton meant she knew it too. It was best to move the conversation along quickly. “Did Evelyn ask you about children? Jason told me that her biggest fear is that he won’t give her grandchildren before she dies.”

“Why would she be worried about that?” Grandma Cotton asked. “He’s a young man.”

“Evelyn might be worried that she won’t be around long enough to see them,” Janelle said. “She does have a heart condition.”

“Jason thinks she exaggerates it.” Ginny remembered how Evelyn's heart condition had worsened when Jason got into MIT and lessened after he declined his dream college to stay in the state and be near her.

“He told me that too,” Bryn said. “The subject of children did come up. There were some adorable babies at church this morning. I can’t wait to get pregnant. We’re going to have three kids. Jason is all for me being a stay-at-home mom. He makes good money, you know.”

“Speaking of money, don’t you have to work this afternoon?” Janelle said. “If you’re late again your boss might fire you.”

“She’ll never fire me,” Bryn said. “Customers love me. I’m not leaving without my coffee cake.”

“It should be cool enough to cut now.” Grandma Cotton got out the plates.

I must be strong. The boiled egg and grapefruit were filling and satisfying and all the energy my body needs until lunchtime.

“I just wish you’d picked a different week,” Janelle said. “It always rains the first week in June. It’s the curse of the Portland Rose Festival. If it rains, it will ruin everything.”

“Don’t tell me you’re worrying about rain again,” Walt said, as he came into the room. “If it rains we’ll just squeeze everyone into the house.”

“We can't even fit your immediate family into the house,” Janelle said. “We should rent a tent just in case. If you'd sell that damned motorcycle, we'd have more money to put into this.”

“I can’t sell it like it is. It needs a new clutch,” Walt said.

“You should take it to Vaughn Brother’s Bikes,” Ginny said. “The owner is a friend of mine.”

“Don't go putting money into fixing it unless you’re serious about selling it this time,” Janelle said.

Walt ignored his wife. “Where is this place?”

Ginny told him about Pierce and his shop. Five minutes later, she was out in the wood shop happily admiring her father’s newest pet urn. Ginny was glad to talk to someone who could go ten minutes without mentioning the wedding.  

****

Jason hadn’t told Ginny that he was bringing Hank to chess club, which in retrospect was just as well. She hadn’t gotten nervous beforehand. She hadn’t been overly nervous when she’d met Hank either. There had been a moment or two of wondering what to say to a new person, but Jason had filled it in with small talk that included both of them. After that, Ginny had felt fairly comfortable with Hank. They’d even played a couple of games of speed chess. Hank hadn’t seemed to mind when Ginny had beaten him, nor had he gloated when he’d won the next one.

When she got home, she was still thinking about Hank. He was reasonably attractive, with light brown hair and brown eyes, a bit on the heavy side, but not too much so. Overall he was kind of ordinary but in a good way. Hank was the kind of guy she would have imagined being in a relationship with if she’d ever imagined being with anyone other than Jason. He’d suggested they get together sometime. They’d exchanged numbers. It had all been so easy. Wasn’t that how it was supposed to be?

All this pining for Jason craziness had to end. Same for the goal. There was no logical reason for her to jump into bed with Pierce, or any other guy, just so that she could have sex before Jason did. Okay, so maybe she did feel foolish for having waited so long for a man who didn’t want her, but that didn’t mean she should continue doing foolish things.

Ginny changed into her pajamas and got into bed. She picked up a paperback, but couldn’t focus on the story. Instead, she invented a story of her own. Hank would ask her out. They’d go on a few casual dates and get to know each other. Things would progress in the usual way. They'd fall in love. They'd have sex. She wouldn't be afraid because it would feel right. Marriage would follow, and in a few years, they'd have kids. There would be big family get-togethers. Seeing Jason with Bryn wouldn't bother her at all. In fact, she'd think it was silly that she'd ever imagined herself in love with Jason.

Ginny's phone rang. It was Pierce. Her heart beat faster with every ring. There was no reason to talk to Pierce or see him again. He had no place in her current fantasy.

It occurred to her, long after the last ring, when she was nearly asleep, that this little fantasy had been the invention of Sensible Ginny. That was okay. Sensible Ginny must know what she was talking about because she made sense. Well, most of the time anyway.

Jason had moved fast. Two days after she’d agreed to meet Hank Ginny was at Jason’s door for a get-together. He lived in an older two-bedroom rental house with a roommate, Peter. Peter worked with Jason and had transferred temporarily from their San Francisco office a few months ago. It had worked out well for them both though Jason had been uncomfortable with the idea at first because Peter was gay. Jason’s church wasn’t any more progressive in their view of gays than they were about anything else. Jason felt that gay couples should have legal rights, but it shouldn't be called marriage as that was not what God intended. Having a gay roommate was a big step forward for him. An even bigger step would be telling his mom about Peter, but so far Jason had avoided that. It hadn’t been too difficult, as his mom rarely left the suburbs to go into the city.

Peter answered the door. An attractive guy with blond hair and green eyes he always dressed as if he were just leaving for, or returning from, the health club. Today he wore black and white checkered spandex shorts and a purple tank top.

“Is Hank here yet?” Ginny asked.

“No.”

“You work with him. What do you think? Will I like him?”

“Hank’s all right, but he talks too much. I find him a bit boring, but you might like him.”

Great, they could wallow together in mutual boringness. Ginny went straight to the bathroom for her nervous pee. When she came out, she found Jason and Bryn in the kitchen. Bryn wore a sheer patterned blouse over a tan camisole, skin-tight jeans, and tan wedge sandals that made her three inches taller. Ginny's faded jeans and simple navy top seemed dull in comparison.

Bryn was making potato salad from scratch, using Grandma Cotton’s recipe. “You’ll like Hank. He’s smart, plays chess and everything.”

“Playing chess does not automatically make a guy a good match for me,” Ginny said.

“Arte,” Jason said.

The name made Ginny giggle.

“Who is Arte?” Bryn sounded irritated by their inside joke.

“Just some weird guy who used to come to chess club,” Ginny said.

“He had a crush on Ginny,” Jason said. “He kept inviting her over to see his comic book collection and the full-sized arcade video games that he kept in his living room. What were they again?”

“Space Invaders and Donkey Kong,” Ginny said. “The guy was obsessed with all things from the eighties. He only wore retro T-shirts."

“Like Talking Heads,” Jason said.

“And Charlie’s Angels,” Ginny said. 

“Shouldn't Hank be here by now?” Bryn asked, louder than was necessary as if to block out the conversation that didn’t include her.

“He must have gotten hung up at work or something,” Jason said.

Perfect. More time to be nervous. How many more times would she have to pee before he got here?

Bryn started talking about the wedding. It would be casual, but tasteful.

Peter was sitting in a chair doing curls with a dumbbell. Ginny watched his biceps flex and relax, noticing the golden hairs on his forearm, and the thicker ones under his arm. She wondered how Pierce’s biceps looked flexed, and what the hair under his arms looked like, and then felt like a weirdo for thinking about armpits.

Ginny turned away in time to see Jason watching Peter with the same disapproving expression he’d worn when staring after the kids who were begging for money.

“We’re all going shopping on Saturday,” Bryn said.

“Shopping for what?” Ginny asked. 

“Dresses of course. I want you and Britney and Carissa to match.”

“Really? If this is going to be a small, casual wedding, with no groomsmen, then why should we match?”

“It would look good in the photos,” Bryn said. “Don’t you agree, Jason?”

“It would look nice,” Jason said.

“Now that I’ve lost a few pounds I can fit into my red dress again,” Ginny said.

“Not the one you wore to Aunt Maureen and Uncle Vic’s anniversary party two years ago?”

Ginny knew that tone. “I’ve been told I look good in that dress.”

“I'm not saying it doesn't look good,” Bryn said. “The halter top and swing skirt, do flatter your figure.”

“You mean the skirt hides my wide hips?”

“That's not what I meant. Don't be so sensitive. It's just that red isn't the best color for a wedding and to be honest, that dress is a bit old-fashioned. Britney and Carissa have agreed to go shopping with me and pick out matching dresses. You should come too.”

“Just what I’ve always wanted, to go shopping with Crabbe and Goyle,” Ginny said.

“Who?” Bryn asked.

Jason laughed. Ginny wondered how he could marry a woman who didn’t know who Crabbe and Goyle were. Not only had Bryn never read Harry Potter, she hadn’t even watched the movies.

Not seeming to care that no one had answered her question, Bryn slid her hand onto Jason’s thigh. “We’ve got all the important dates figured out.”

“Already?” Ginny asked.

“We’re anxious.” Bryn gave Jason a seductive smile.

 A lifetime of seeing these two together for holidays and family get-togethers stretched ahead of Ginny. If she moved out of the state, she'd only have to see them a few times a year. Seattle was a fun city, but three hours away by car might not be far enough. San Francisco, maybe?

“Next Saturday is the bridal shower. Aunt Maureen is having it at her house,” Bryn said.

Aunt Maureen and Uncle Vic loved having an excuse to host a party. Still…

“That's way too soon. You can't expect people to rush right out and buy you gifts without any kind of notice.”

Jason stood up and started for the kitchen.

“Of course not.” Bryn smiled. “We’re going to make it easy on everyone and have a giant piggy bank that they can fill with cash.”

Ginny glared at Jason’s back, understanding why he’d chosen that moment to leave the room. “Please, please, tell me you’re kidding.”

“Everyone does it this way now. Well, not necessarily the piggy bank thing. I just thought that would be fun. It makes more sense for people to give money than for them to go out and buy stuff that we don’t need or want.”

“And it’s so classy.” Peter rolled his eyes.

“It’s tacky,” Ginny said.

Bryn sighed. “That's what Mom said when I told her, but she's old-fashioned and doesn't know how people do things these days.”

This was true. “What does Grandma Cotton think of the idea?”

“She didn’t say.”

Too polite.

Jason came back into the room with two beers. He tossed one to Peter who caught it with the hand that wasn’t holding a dumbbell. “Thanks.”

Ginny was surprised to see Jason drinking. His father, an alcoholic, died of liver disease when Jason was in high school. Jason had always avoided alcohol. Bryn, on the other hand, had been a big partier until a few months ago. After the incident with the guy who turned out to be married, Bryn had sworn off clubs and cut back on drinking. Shortly after that she’d started seeing Jason.

“Jason, are you okay with this piggy bank thing?” Ginny asked. “How is your family going to feel about it?”

“My relatives are all in Kansas.” He shrugged but didn't meet her eyes. “It'll just be my mom and a few people from church. I don't care about gifts or money. The piggy bank is going to be anonymous so no one will feel bad if they can't contribute. We'll send thank you notes to everyone who shows up, thanking them for sharing the big day with us.”

It didn’t sound as bad the way Jason put it.

Twenty minutes later, when they were about to give up and eat, Jason got a call from Hank. He claimed to be sick and thought it might be food poisoning from the deli sandwich he’d had for lunch. Ginny had been stood up, and he hadn’t even met her yet.

“Don't take it personally,” Jason said.

Too late.

“I’ve seen some of the crappy food Hank eats because he’s too cheap to buy a decent lunch,” Peter said. “It wouldn't surprise me if he had food poisoning.”

Cheap was not a good quality in a man. Still, if the poor guy were kneeling in front of the toilet, she could forgive him for not showing up.

After they'd eaten, Bryn brought up dress shopping again. “I want you to come with us, even if you decide not to buy a dress. You're my sister. I want you to be part of this.”

Ginny felt a surge of guilt. Her little sister was getting married, and instead of being happy and supportive she was being jealous and petty. So what if she hated going to the mall? So what if shopping with Crabbe and Goyle sounded a tad bit less fun than waiting in line at the DMV on her lunch break? “Okay, I’ll go.” 

Bryn jumped up from the sofa and hugged Ginny. “This is going to be so fun!” 

Yippee.

****

 I have a plan.

Ginny was on the bus when she received the text from Pierce. It had been a long busy day, as Fridays usually were. She was hungry and tired and wanted to sit down but all the seats were taken. She held tightly to a pole to keep her balance, trying not to get too close to the young woman with blonde dreadlocks, a woman who either couldn’t afford deodorant or didn’t believe in it.

This was the first time she’d heard from Pierce since Monday when she’d backed out of going to his house. She responded with, What kind of plan?

I’ll bring over pizza and a deck of cards. We’ll play a game.

That’s it?

It's a game designed to help you get over your fear of sex.

This was intriguing, but Jason was trying to arrange for her to meet up with him and Bryn, and Hank for drinks later. Ginny hadn't yet committed to it. The bus lurched forward, and her phone flew out of her hand. Dreadlock woman caught it an inch from the floor.

“Good catch,” Ginny said.

The woman glanced at the screen before handing it back. She smiled. Had she read the words fear of sex? How embarrassing. Ginny glanced around, certain that she was the only person on the entire bus who had never had sex. She replied, What time?

****

Ginny was waiting for Pierce when her mom called. If it were anyone else, she would have ignored it, but Ginny knew that if she didn't answer Janelle would imagine her dead in a ditch somewhere.

“Bryn called. They set a date and it's only a few weeks away, which is crazy. There isn't time to find a caterer, so we're doing the food ourselves, with family pitching in, donating food instead of gifts, and I have no idea how we're going to pull this off in a few weeks when just getting the yard ready is going to be a monumental chore. Your dad is going to have to set aside his pet coffins and---”

Urns, they’re pet urns.

There was no telling when her mom would pause for breath, so Ginny broke in, “I’m sorry to interrupt Mom, but I’m expecting company any minute now.”

“Is it one of your online men?”

“Um, yeah,” Ginny hated the way her mother made it sound.

“You invited him to your house? Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“We’ve already been out once, so I know he’s not dangerous.”

“You can’t tell that from one date. You should talk to Cousin Bobby. He can do a background check on anyone, you know. It can’t hurt to find out if he’s ever been arrested or has debt problems or an ex-wife and a kid or two that he hasn’t told you about.”

Or a twin brother he’s pretending to be. Ginny heard the rumble of a motorcycle. Was Pierce carrying pizza on a motorcycle? “He's here, Mom. I really have to go.”

“Okay, Honey. Be careful.”

Ginny started toward the door but didn't want to seem too anxious by opening it before Pierce knocked. Instead, she stood in front of the door, heart beating too fast, waiting. When the knock came, she jumped.

The sight of Pierce didn’t do anything to slow her heart rate. He wore the motorcycle jacket, faded jeans, and the boots. What was it about those boots anyway? He held a pizza box.

“How did you carry pizza on your motorcycle?”

“Very carefully.” He came inside, set the box on the table and opened it.

The pizza had slid around a bit, but it was relatively unharmed by the journey. Pepperoni was not on her healthy list. It smelled delicious. It oozed grease. Ginny imagined thousands of calories swimming in the grease, and turning to cellulite on her thighs. “I can't eat pepperoni. It's loaded with artery-clogging fat.”

“But it tastes so good.” Pierce took a slice and bit into it.

Ginny set both bowls of salad on the table along with a bottle of dressing. “This is the only dressing I have. It’s fat- free ranch.”

“Fat -free?” Pierce looked doubtful. He took off his jacket, hung it on the back of the chair and sat down. He moved the salad to one side.

Ginny started on her salad. The smell of pepperoni tempted her more with every bite of lettuce and shredded carrots.

“I’m not going to have to eat this whole pizza by myself am I?” Pierce asked.

“I might have one piece.”

After eating several slices of pizza, Pierce moved the salad bowl in front of him.

“You’re supposed to eat the salad first,” Ginny said.

“My dad always said I was the backward twin.” He took a bite of salad. “This dressing tastes like glue.”

“How do you know what glue tastes like?”

“I don't remember tasting glue, but according to my mom I put everything in my mouth, and since I'm positive this is what glue tastes like I must have tried it once.”

“If you don’t like it, you don’t have to eat it.”

“I didn’t say I don’t like it.” He took another bite.

“So you’re saying you like the taste of glue?”

“No, I’m saying that since you made it for me, I’m going to eat it. I’m being polite.”

“By saying my food tastes like glue?”

“Your food tastes fine. It's the dressing that tastes like glue.”

Ginny pushed her empty salad bowl to one side, hungrier now than when she’d started eating. For the first time, she noticed the unpleasant aftertaste left by the dressing. She took a slice of pizza and bit into it, closing her eyes as the greasy deliciousness melted on her tongue. She opened her eyes to find Pierce watching her.

“Good?” he asked.

“Yes.”

When they'd finished eating, Pierce took a deck of cards out of his jacket pocket. “I thought we'd play cards first.”

“Or we could play chess.”

“I don't play chess.”

“I don't think I can date a guy who doesn't play chess.” Ginny smiled, though she was only half kidding.

“We're not dating. There's too much pressure in dating. We're going to play cards, and later we'll play the other game.”

Thinking about the mysterious other game brought heat to Ginny’s face, along with other places.

“Do you play poker?” Pierce asked.

“I played it with my cousins a few times when I was a kid, but I don't remember all the rules.”

“I’ll teach you.”

They played a few hands. Ginny learned that a full house beats three of a kind, but nothing beats a royal flush. She had a natural poker face, according to Pierce, and would be good at playing for money.

She lay down her cards. “I have a pair of kings, is that any good?”

“It beats my pair of threes.”

Ginny’s phone buzzed with an incoming text. It was from Jason. Hank was in if she still wanted to meet later for drinks. While Pierce shuffled the cards, Ginny let Jason know that her plans had changed and she wouldn’t be able to make it.

A few minutes later her phone rang. It was Bryn. She probably wanted to know what Ginny’s plans were. Ginny had no intention of telling her.

“I don't mind if you answer that,” Pierce said.

“It's my sister, and she's calling to find out what I'm doing and try to talk me into meeting Hank tonight. I'm not going to answer.”

“Hank?”

“He’s this guy that Jason is trying to set me up with because he feels guilty for marrying my sister.”

“Huh?”

It couldn’t hurt to tell him. “Jason is my best friend. Until a few months ago we spent a lot of time together. Then he started dating my sister. Now they’re getting married. I think he’s making a terrible mistake.”

“He's making a mistake, not your sister?”

“Yes, because she’s getting a great guy and he’s getting….well it’s not that there’s anything wrong with Bryn, it’s just that she’s indecisive.” Ginny shuffled the cards.

“You mean indecisive as in she can’t decide what kind of toothpaste to buy? Have you ever noticed how many different kinds there are?”

“Yes, but no. I mean indecisive as in Bryn never sticks with anything. She was a good gymnast, and then one day she just quit. In high school, she joined the choir, and she had a decent voice, but then she dropped it. In college, she switched majors several times.”

“You’re afraid she’s going to change her mind about your friend and ditch him too?”

“Yes. I’m afraid she’ll get bored with Jason after awhile and want to find someone more exciting.”

“So he’s a boring guy?”

“No, at least I don't think he is, but he and Bryn are too different. Jason is a bit shy, and Bryn is a social butterfly. Jason is conservative, and Bryn is liberal. Jason thinks that sex should be reserved for marriage and Bryn is much more casual about sex.”

“I think I like your sister.”

It was his smile that got to her. Without even knowing she was going to do it, Ginny threw the deck of cards at him. They landed on Pierce’s lap and spilled onto the floor. His eyes widened. “What the hell? I was joking.”

She was doing it again, ruining everything.

“They slipped.”

 “Slipped? Is that anything like the way your phone hangs up all on its own?”

 “Yes, like that.” Ginny walked over to the sink and poured a glass of water. If only there were a way to splash it on her cheeks without him noticing. With her back to Pierce, she drank the whole glass. When she went back to the table, Pierce had finished picking up the cards and was shuffling.

“I’m sorry,” Ginny said.

“Forget it. I promise not to like your sister if I ever meet her.”

Ginny hadn't meant to reveal so much. Now he knew about her anxiety, and he knew that she was sensitive where her sister was concerned.

Ginny’s phone buzzed again. This time, it was a text from Bryn. Who is this guy you ditched Hank for and why did you tell Mom that you have a date? Now she’s worried that he’s a serial killer.

Ginny sighed. “Are you a serial killer? My mom wants to know.”

“I don't think so. Not unless I have multiple personality disorder in which case I wouldn't know about the serial killer that inhabits my mind. It’s unlikely, though, as my dad is a psychiatrist and he’d have figured it out by now.”

“Your dad is a psychiatrist?”

“Yes.” Pierce kept shuffling, doing fancy stuff with the cards.

Ginny responded to Bryn. His name is Pierce, and he's not a serial killer.

Is he hot?

Scorching.

“Why does your mom think you date serial killers?” Pierce asked as he passed out the cards.

“She worries a lot. You know how mothers are.”

“Not really. My mother’s not the worrying type.”

“Must be nice.”

Pierce shrugged, “I guess. We haven’t seen her much since the divorce.”

“Oh. How long ago was that?”

“We were six, so about twenty-three years ago.”

“Wow. I guess I’m lucky. My parents are married.”

“To each other?”

“For twenty-six years.”

“Are they happy?”

“I guess so. Sort of. No, not really.” Ginny kept a pair of nines and tossed out the other three cards.

Pierce threw out two cards. “My parents have six marriages between them.”

“Wow. That’s a lot of divorces.”

“Four total. My dad is still with wife number two. My mom’s fourth husband died.”

 “Sad. How?”

“He choked on a piece of steak three months after the wedding, left her everything, including a big life insurance policy. She moved to L.A. and now spends every afternoon sunbathing on the beach. She calls it the most successful of her marriages."

“She’s joking, though, right?”

“No, I don't think so.”

Ginny lay down her cards.

“Three jacks, you beat me. Now I'll teach you how to bet.”

Ginny kept wondering about the other game. She’d wait and let him bring it up.

They’d been playing cards, talking about casual things for more than an hour when Pierce asked, “Do you want to play a new game now?”

“I don't know. What’s this new game called?”

“House.”

“House is not a new game. Everyone has played House. When I was a kid I played with my cousins. The boys would sit in front of the television pretending to drink beer and insist that the girls wash the dishes. Instead, we hit them with pretend frying pans.”

Pierce laughed. “And I thought my childhood was messed up.”

“It wasn’t that bad.”

“My version of the game involves husbands and wives in the bedroom.”

 Ginny’s heart rate sped up. “You said we’re not going to have sex.”

“We’re not. That’s why it’s a game. This game has one rule. No matter how much fun we’re having, we keep our clothes on. It’s pretend sex.”

“Pretend sex?” This was intriguing.

“The point is for you to get over your fear of sex. If you know ahead of time that we’re not going all the way, you won’t faint, or break out in hives, or find some reason to get pissed off at me and…”

“I get it.”

“What do you say, Ginny? Are you game?”

The room suddenly felt quite warm. She was glad to be wearing a lightweight blouse and cotton pants rather than a sweater and jeans. “I’m game.”

Pierce took her hand. “Show me your bedroom.”

Ginny took him to her room. Her bed was a twin. The pink comforter was the same one she’d had in college. She slipped off her shoes and sat on the edge of the bed, hands clasped together. “Have we been married long?”

“No, we’re newlyweds.”

“So sex would still be new?”

“Of course not, we did it all the time before we got married. Every day.”

“Every day?” Ginny gave him a look of disbelief. “Isn’t that a bit unrealistic?”

“I hope not. But we could say every other day if it makes you happy.”

“It does.” Ginny had no idea why it mattered. This was only a game after all. And for all she knew, she would want it every day.

Pierce began to massage her shoulders. “Hard day at work, Honey?”

“You can't call me Honey. My dad calls me Honey.”

“How about Sweetheart?”

“Nope, my mom calls me Sweetheart.”

“I’ll call you Melissa, then.”

“Why Melissa?”

“I don't know. I just like it. It's a good wife name. But if you don't like Melissa you can pick out one of your own.”

“Melissa works. I’m going to call you Richard.”

“I don’t see myself as a Richard.”

“Do you want to come up with a different---”

“No, it’s fine. You’re so tense, Melissa. It must have been a rough day,” Pierce/Richard said, continuing to massage her shoulders.

“It was.” Ginny closed her eyes and focused on her pretend husband’s hands, imagining that she was Melissa, a slimmer, sexier, version of herself.

Pierce/Richard moved her hair to one side and tenderly kissed the back of her neck. This sent little shivers down her spine. More kisses followed, along the side of her throat to just behind her ear. It tickled. She squirmed. She felt his fingers on her jaw, tilting her face toward him. Ginny looked into his deep blue eyes. Melissa was a lucky woman to have such a nice looking husband.

Pierce/Richard kissed her. It was a nice kiss, soft, not too wet. Ginny/Melissa put her arms around his neck. More kisses followed, sweet, tender kisses. Ginny felt his lips part and pulled back.

“Sorry, I forgot. No tongue. I promise.”

“Okay.”

Pierce/Richard drew her onto the bed with him. Ginny/Melissa tensed up again.

“We’re keeping our clothes on, so there’s nothing to be nervous about.”

“Right.”

His hand skimmed along her side to her hip and then slowly went back up, curving under her right breast. “We do this all the time.”

Ginny ignored the pounding of her heart. “We do. All the time.”

She closed her eyes. There were more kisses followed by gentle explorations, breasts, belly and then feather light strokes along the insides of her thighs, causing her breath to speed up.

A whisper in her ear, “Our clothes are off now, Melissa.”

Naked. It was easy to imagine. Imagining is what she was good at. She was practically an expert at imagining.

His hand moved higher up her thigh, brushing the seam of her pants. Her breath caught.

“You like it when I touch you.”

“Yes.”

 “I always take my time to make sure you’re ready for me.”

His fingers pressed harder. She was Melissa, married and naked, enjoying the feel of her husband’s lips on her throat, and his fingers. Oh, did she ever like his fingers.

“I think you’re ready.”

"Mm-hm."

Pierce/Richard covered her body with his. She liked the weight of him, the way his hips fit perfectly between her thighs, the warmth of his breath on her neck.

“I'm going to slide inside now, and move real slow. You like it when I start out slow.”

“Yes.” Ginny was quite sure that this was true.

His movements felt familiar. They'd done this hundreds of times, like so many couples before them. Since the beginning of time, this act has been performed millions of times. No, that wasn’t right either. The number would be in the billions if you counted all the people, even cave people. How silly to be afraid of this.

Sweaty and breathless, Ginny pressed her hands into his lower back and lifted her hips to meet his thrusts, urging him to move faster.

“Slow.” Pierce/Richard pleaded.

“Faster,” said Ginny/Melissa/every woman in the history of the world.

It was going to happen. It was. Any second now she was going to…

The ecstasy sound could not be mistaken for anything else. With her window open to let in the cool evening air, the couple who lived below her might have heard. It didn’t bother her one bit that they would know she was enjoying this most ordinary adult activity. She only wished that the sound they may or may not have heard had come from her.

“Shit. I didn’t mean to do that.”

Shit was not the kind of word a woman wanted to hear after sex, even pretend sex.

Pierce rolled off of her, muttered “Sorry,” and went into the bathroom.

Ginny closed the bedroom door and changed into dry underwear before going into the living room. She sat on the sofa. The bathroom door opened. Pierce came out. The lower part of his T-shirt and the waist of his jeans were damp, as if he’d washed them, and tried to towel them dry. Ginny quickly averted her gaze. If pretend sex was this undignified what would the real thing be like?

Pierce sat down next to her, close but not touching. Ginny focused on her hands, twisting her fingers together.

“It wasn’t supposed to happen like that.”

“It was fine. It was nice.” Ginny looked straight ahead, avoiding eye contact.

After a moment, his hand came to rest on her leg, above her knee. “I should go. We're busy at work. I'm going in early tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Ginny said a little too quickly. Would he think she wanted him to leave? Did she? Ginny wasn’t quite sure what she wanted at the moment. While she was thinking about it, Pierce put his boots on. He put his jacket on. He gathered up his cards. Ginny walked him to the door. He gave her a quick hug, though what exactly that meant, she had no idea.

Ginny locked the door behind him. She picked up the empty pizza box to put it in the recycle bin. Pierce’s jokers were underneath it. She thought about calling him, but he couldn’t answer his phone while riding his motorcycle. She’d call him tomorrow. Maybe he’d drive over here and get the jokers. Maybe he’d want to play House again. Maybe next time she’d win.

Welcome,

I’m deep into a new series called House of Hurt and I can’t wait to share it with you. But I will wait, because serving my readers a story before it’s done feels a bit like offering you undercooked chicken (but without the salmonella.) When you sit at my table, you get my best.

For now I’ll be posting series news and updates, as well as TJ’s Tidbits, every other Thursday. I’d tell you what to expect but it’s like a box of chocolates—even I don’t know what you’re going to get.

If you want to taste some of my fiction, here are a few of the options on the menu:

On the lighter side of love—

Suburban Delights

On the darker side of love—

Don't Ask Why

Completed romantic novel—

Playing House Chapter One

Happy Reading!