Page 29 of Say You Will

Wake Me Up | Avicii

Amug of EarlGrey tea grows cold at my elbow as I type “How to give a woman an orgasm” in the search bar on my laptop.

If I ever convince Franki to give me a chance, the last thing I need is to turn out to be the worst sex she’s ever had. Being a bad lay is the opposite of romantic.

When the patio doors open behind me, I close my laptop with a snap and turn to see who’s joined me. Dad, striding out withan unpeeled orange in one hand, lifts the other in surrender. “I didn’t see anything.”

I’d classify his words as a blatant lie.

I slouch, leaning back in my cushioned wrought iron chair and tip my head back to look at the overcast sky. It’s not chilly, and it’s no longer raining. The flagstones glisten with a damp sheen, and the brightly colored fall foliage pops dramatically against the dreary gray backdrop. My father is the only person I’d ever speak to about this. And I will. When I’m done procrastinating by staring at the sky.

Once I’ve admitted to myself that I’m avoiding the subject, I can no longer continue to do so. With a sigh, I sit up straight and take the bull by the horns. “I’d like to speak to you about something in confidence. I need this to stay between the two of us. Personal, not business.”

Dad nods, pulls out another of the chairs, takes note of the fact that a staff member put out dry cushions after the rain, and makes himself comfortable. Only after he’s settled, does he look my way and say, “Go for it.”

“I’ve never had sex.”

Dad, visibly struggling to regulate his expression of surprise, contemplates my words as they hang in the air between us like a leaf caught on the wind. Finally, voice devoid of judgment, he asks, “Why?”

“I didn’t want to.”

Dad lifts dark eyebrows and drops his chin briefly. “That sounds like a perfectly good reason to me. Do you consider yourself asexual? Demisexual?”

I lift my mug to my lips and finish off the last of it before I admit, “I’m attracted to women sexually, but I refused to allow myself that level of physical vulnerability.”

Dad peels his orange. “Do you think it’s because it was a woman who nearly killed you when you were a child?”

“Some of it. Trust isn’t something I give lightly, and I believed it an unnecessary hurdle to overcome simply for the sake of sexual gratification.”

I collect my thoughts, then say, “That was true of my teens into my early twenties, anyway. After that, I was waiting.”

“You were waiting for someone you could trust?” Dad asks.

“Yes.” When I realize I’m tapping the patio table, I still my hand and repeat, “Yes.”

Dad offers me half his orange, and I shake my head.

“Have you found her, or have you decided you no longer want to wait?” he asks.

“It’s Franki. I asked her to marry me.”

Dad’s slice of orange hits the table when he fumbles it on the way to his mouth. He recovers and clears his throat. “You were waiting forFranki? That’s why you never had relationships?”

“You think that was foolish. To wait almost five years for a specific person.”

“Not even a little. I hadn’t been with anyone in at least that long when Charlotte and I got together.” Dad huffs. “I can’t believe it’s Franki. I’ve never seen two people so different from each other as the two of you. That’s saying something, considering your sister married Dean.”

I frown. “Franki and I are incredibly alike.” I could make a list as long as my arm of similarities we share. But maybe Dad is referring to her gentleness. Her optimism. The way she values feelings over practicality.

Dad’s mouth quirks, and he leans back in his chair. “In love with Franki Lennox. I never saw that one coming.”

I shake my head. “I’m not in love with Franki. I like her and I trust her.”

“You waited your entire adult life for her. I don’t believe you.”

The niggling suspicion that this is going to be even more complicated than I’d imagined when I’d spouted off my list ofcriteria tickles my conscience, and I actively shove it out of my mind. “She meets all of my requirements for a wife.”

“I heard about that list from your brother.” Dad leans back in his chair. “None of that is a good enough reason to get married. You marry when you find the right person, not to check a box. Franki is too sweet for what you have planned. If you offer her a business arrangement, she’ll be miserable with you.”

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