Page 70 of You Spin Me

I blow out a breath.

“Come on, come on. He’s vacuuming those suckers up.”

“Okay.” Pacing in a circle, I swing the phone cord as I work up the courage to spit it out. “I forgot it’s Valentine’s Day.”

“Oh, that’s sweet. But you don’t have to do anything for me.”

I cough out a laugh. “Not for you, you idiot. A girl.”

“I am a girl.”

“Yes, but you have your own boy.”

“Who will likely forget.”

“You’re already married. It doesn’t count.”

“Oh, ho. Now there’s where you’re wrong.”

“Penny, I need your advice.”

“Okay, sorry. Is it the girl on the phone?”

“Yeah.”

“That you still haven’t brought to Sunday dinner?”

“I only met her in person the other day. Don’t you think that’s enough of a horror show for one week?”

“All right,” she sighs. “So what’s the problem? The day’s not over.”

“Well, I woke up with her, and I didn’t even say happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Cal! You dog.”

“She just slept over; we didn’t?—“

“I don’t want details. Gross.”

“Anyway. What’s the best Valentine’s gift you ever got? Do I do the whole Whitman’s sampler and red roses thing?”

“Well, that’s nice. But honestly? The best one I ever got was last year when I was so pregnant I could only waddle and I had to pee constantly and had hemorrhoi?—“

“Ew, talk about gross.”

“Anyway. Daniel made me a coupon book.”

“Like that thing that mom has? To organize coupons?” That does not sound romantic, but maybe women are really into them.

“No, you idiot. I mean, those things are cool, but that’s like a stocking stuffer or something. I mean a construction-paper book he cut and pasted with his own two hands. Inside were coupons for stuff like a foot rub and doing the dishes without me asking, and dinner out not at a sports bar. Stuff like that.”

“You think she’d like that more than chocolates?”

“I think anyone would prefer something handmade over something any jamoke can pick up on the way home.”

Something crashes on her end of the line.

“Shit.”

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