Page 64 of Good Girls Don't Kiss and Tell

“And so is your snoring…plus you fart in your sleep.”

Eric burst out laughing, and she liked the way the sound made her heart beat fast.

“I hate to break it to you, babe, but everyone farts in their sleep.”

“I do not.”

“Um, yeah, you do. It’s cute, really, ’cause they’re kind of quiet and high-pitched—”

“Oh my God, new topic!” she said, laughing. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment.

“Hey, you brought it up. I was just defending my honor.”

“Ha, an honorable man would not have described my flatulating practices.”

She could tell Eric was having a hard time catching his breath, and she giggled at his mirth.

“Okay, okay, enough. Are you coming over or what?” he asked.

“Yeah, I think I’ll be there.”

“Good. I’ll see you after work. The door will be open.”

“Thanks. See you later.”

“Later.”

Gracie shook her head as she ended the call. Never in her life had she talked about farting with a guy. Well, Mike, but he didn’t count. They’d never bumped uglies.

She pulled into her driveway, still musing about the ease with which they’d fallen into bed together, and things hadn’t gotten weird. Maybe because with everything that had happened between them over the years, it was bound to happen? It didn’t mean anything; it would actually be nice to have a little something something while they were pulling off this charade.

Gracie walked through the door of her home to find her mother cleaning her kitchen. She was wearing one of Gracie’s “dirty” aprons as she scrubbed the counter aggressively. Across her boobs, the wordsI Like Sweet Treats and I Cannot Liewas embroidered in pink, and the straps and skirt of the apron was a mix of baked good fabric. Gracie had one of the women in town make them for her, to help out a fellow small business and because they were a conversation starter at The Local Bean.

Seeing her mother wearing it, though, was a little disturbing. She doubted her mom had ever heard the Sir Mix-a-Lot song.

“Hey, where’s Dad?”

Her mother glanced up, then went back to scrubbing. “Out with friends at the lodge.”

Uh-oh. Something was not right in Wonderland.

Gracie warily set her purse and jacket down on the couch. “Did you two have a fight or something?”

Her mother slapped her rag against the counter and scowled at her. “Yes, Gracie, we had a fight.”

“Well, geez, why are you biting my head off?”

“Because according to you and your father, I am this horrible person who makes everyone miserable.”

“Okay, that’s a bit of a stretch. I know I didn’t say that—”

“You and your boyfriend think that I don’t respect you and all that you’ve done, but I do. I am very proud of you!” Gracie’s jaw dropped as her mother’s eyes welled up with tears and her voice got choky. “Can’t I also want you to have a plan B? Something stable to fall back on if the market crashes?”

“Mom, come on. I get that you worry, but your backup plan is a husband.”

Her mother dropped the rag to cross her arms over her chest. “Well, don’t you want a husband?”

“Yeah, I do, eventually, but I also want him to be the right guy. You and Dad got married and lived with your parents until Dad was able to get a full-time job, but you were crazy about each other. That’s what I want. I’ve held out too long to settle for anything less than the all-consuming, love-each-other-even-when-we-want-to-kill-each-other kind of love.”

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