Page 55 of Like A Daydream
“Your face is pretty red,” he says, raising a brow, “are you sure you haven’t been skimming?”
“Me? Skimming? A book that’s supposed to be off limits until Tuesday? I would never.” She says, shaking her head and gripping the book behind her back tighter the closer he gets.
“Riiiiiight,” he drawls, “then you shouldn’t have a problem showing me.”
He steps into her space, reaching behind her back to grab for the book. She spins back to his chest, trying to keep it from him but his arms are longer than hers and the feel of his chest against her back has her flustered enough that she loosens her grip for a split second.
That’s all the time he needs to grab it and hold it above her head, grinning in triumph as he holds the book open and skims the page she was on.
“This Tripp guy sounds like a delight,” he says as she reaches, jumping around him to try and grab it from him, “Didn’t know you’re into the cowboy type, I’ll have to work on my accent… have you gotten to this page yet?”
He turns his back to her, still holding it up in the air as she reaches for it again. His eyes widen.
“Oh, my,” he says, “you were just getting to the good stuff. Thesexy times.”
“Iknow,” she says, frustrated, reaching for it again. She’s not embarrassed by her choice of reading material, she’s embarrassed by thepageshe had been on.
She’s sure he has enough familiarity with women that he doesn’t need the help, and he definitely doesn’t need to know that cowboys make up eighty-percent of her fantasies.
“He kisses her again,” Andrew reads out loud, lowering the book and turning his back towards her as she reaches around him, grabbing for it. “And she swears that she’s never felt more alive than she does as his lips move with hers, travelling down her neck and further still. His hand finds hers as his lips glide down her navel, fingers tangling as his blue eyes meet hers –” He turns toward her again, stepping out of her reach. “I don’t think I can say this out loud, for legal reasons.”
“Andrew Cornelius Fisher, give itback!”
He lets out a startled laugh and hides the book behind his back, and she reaches for it, arms locking around his waist as she does. Her cheek presses against his chest, his breathing stutters, and nowhe’sthe flustered one.
She grabs the book from him with a victorious cry, holds it to her chest, and looks up at him.
“For the record,” he says, looking down at her and swallowing, “my middle name isnotCornelius.”
“It seemed ridiculous enough to work for you,” she says, tension between them filling the room, so heavy you could cut it with a knife. His arms slip down around her waist and pull her closer, book pressed between them.
“You were close with the letter,” he says quietly, clearing his throat. “It’s Callahan.”
“Andrew Callahan Fisher,” she says, liking the way it sounds. “It suits you.”
“Callahan is a family name,” he says, absently, still watching her face. His eyes dart back and forth between her eyes and her lips. She steps back from him, droppingRoped Inback into the SOS box.
“You have to feel this,” he says, whispering now. She takes another step back and he reaches for her, taking her hand and pressing it against his chest. His heart is thundering against his skin. “Dani, I –”
She pulls her hand back, jumping away to create more distance between them before she darts back onto the sales floor.
She needs to think, to clear her head before she did something she wasn’t sure that she wouldn’t regret. Danielle knew that he’d seen a look that mirrored his own on her face, and she didn’t know what she was going to do.
All she is sure of is that she has never, not once in her entire life, has she ever wanted a man the way she wants Andrew Fisher.
And it scares the hell out of her.
After the week of emotions she’s had, she feels like she needs to go to see Emerson and Jack. So, Saturday morning on her way to Thompson’s boat launch, she stops at the cemetery and winds her way through the stones to where they are.
It’s quiet today, only a few people out to water flowers, and the sun on the hill makes this feel like a happier place than it really is. She hasn’t been back to see them often, every time she has it’s only reminded her how permanent Emerson’s death really is.
But, she has to do this. She has to tell her about Andy, and maybe some of the guilt will disappear. Grass has grown, but you can tell that it’s still fresh.
There are new flowers on each of their graves, and Danielle wonders when that became a thing. Was it because flowers have their own language and sometimes people say things without saying them? Or was it just to make death more palatable for people if they could add something beautiful to it?
She sits down in the grass in front of both stones. Jack was just as important to her as Em was, and she thinks she should tell them both.
It’s funny, three weeks ago she was just thinking about how she wanted to tell Harper that they can’t hear her, and yet, here she is, ready to pour her feelings out to people who are gone.
