Read Online Keep Calm and Carry a Big Drink by Kim Gruenenfelder - Free Book Online
Authors: Kim Gruenenfelder
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you might not be the only person making the most of his visit.”
Seema pops out of her room wearing an adorable pair of red silk pj’s. “What are you talking about?”
Scott points to our glasses of wine on the table. “I think we may have been intruding.”
Seema bursts out laughing. “On them? Please. Mel would never have him.” She points to my wine. “I’m gonna grab a glass of that, and I’ll be right back.”
Seema heads to the kitchen to get herself a glass of red and get Scott a pint of IPA, and I spend the next hour sneaking flirtatious glances and smiles back and forth with Jay while listening to Seema monologue about her wedding.
I have a brief moment of hope when Scott announces he’s calling it a night and heads to bed, but this is quickly dashed when I hear Seema uncork another bottle of wine in the kitchen. Half an hour after that, I concede that she has outlasted me and announce that I’m going to bed.
Once in my bedroom, I change into a pretty silk robe, a pretty lace camisole, and nonperiod underwear. I brush my teeth and spritz both my neck and my bed with Chanel No. 5.
Then I wait for Seema to go to bed so I can sneak back out to see Jay and finish that kiss.
As I wait, I accidentally glance at my silver money-tree charm, and for the first time in my life I seriously consider going to Paris. Okay, so it’s not a passport. Maybe it’s not supposed to be. Maybe there is a giant sculpture of a money tree in some small avant-garde gallery in the middle of the Latin Quarter. I mean, the last time Nic did a cake pull, I had wanted the engagement-ring charm. Instead, I got the red-hot chili pepper, which was supposed to represent a red-hot sex life. Since I desperately wanted the man I was living with to propose, the charm made no sense to me at the time. But then I realized my boyfriend was cheating on me, and I broke up with him and met another guy, who gave me red-hot sex, and it all made sense. Maybe this charm will make sense too—I just need to help it along a bit.
My hint of retiring early didn’t do any good. All I heard from my room was an excited Seema babbling to her brother until 3:14 A.M ., at which time my eyes got too heavy to stay awake any longer, and I drifted off.
And just before I fell asleep, while I was in that hypnagogic state when you’re neither asleep nor awake, I thought about Paris. And the charm. And the charming man in the other room.
And my future started to make a little more sense.
S IX
I was hoping my going to bed last night would inspire Jay to encourage Seema to go to sleep, then engage in a little silent nocturnal traffic. True to my usual run of luck in the romance department, this never happened.
I wake up at 6:15 in the morning, alone in my bed.
This will not do. I have a charm to live up to.
I tiptoe out of my bedroom and into our living room to see Jay asleep on the couch.
He must be dreaming because he looks dreamy. His bare chest peeks out from under the light pink covers Seema loans out to guests.
“Jay,” I whisper.
With his eyes still closed, he moans ever so slightly, puckers his lips a bit, then rolls over to face me. It’s a coincidence—he’s still out cold.
I tiptoe to the couch and sit down quietly next to him. Then I lean toward his ear and whisper louder, “Jay.”
He effortlessly (there’s that word again) wraps his arm around my waist and whispers back in a sleepy voice, “I’m up. One more minute.”
The he pulls me into a spooning position.
Hmm. On the one hand, yummy. On the other hand—does he have any idea he’s just pulled me into a spooning position? Or does he think I’m a Yvette or a Laura or some other French girl?
I let his warm breath caress my neck for a while and dream of a life with him near the Seine. Without thinking, I take his hand, bring it to my mouth, and lightly kiss it. Then I rest my head onto his chest, grin like a Cheshire cat, and fall into a comfortable
Seema pops out of her room wearing an adorable pair of red silk pj’s. “What are you talking about?”
Scott points to our glasses of wine on the table. “I think we may have been intruding.”
Seema bursts out laughing. “On them? Please. Mel would never have him.” She points to my wine. “I’m gonna grab a glass of that, and I’ll be right back.”
Seema heads to the kitchen to get herself a glass of red and get Scott a pint of IPA, and I spend the next hour sneaking flirtatious glances and smiles back and forth with Jay while listening to Seema monologue about her wedding.
I have a brief moment of hope when Scott announces he’s calling it a night and heads to bed, but this is quickly dashed when I hear Seema uncork another bottle of wine in the kitchen. Half an hour after that, I concede that she has outlasted me and announce that I’m going to bed.
Once in my bedroom, I change into a pretty silk robe, a pretty lace camisole, and nonperiod underwear. I brush my teeth and spritz both my neck and my bed with Chanel No. 5.
Then I wait for Seema to go to bed so I can sneak back out to see Jay and finish that kiss.
As I wait, I accidentally glance at my silver money-tree charm, and for the first time in my life I seriously consider going to Paris. Okay, so it’s not a passport. Maybe it’s not supposed to be. Maybe there is a giant sculpture of a money tree in some small avant-garde gallery in the middle of the Latin Quarter. I mean, the last time Nic did a cake pull, I had wanted the engagement-ring charm. Instead, I got the red-hot chili pepper, which was supposed to represent a red-hot sex life. Since I desperately wanted the man I was living with to propose, the charm made no sense to me at the time. But then I realized my boyfriend was cheating on me, and I broke up with him and met another guy, who gave me red-hot sex, and it all made sense. Maybe this charm will make sense too—I just need to help it along a bit.
My hint of retiring early didn’t do any good. All I heard from my room was an excited Seema babbling to her brother until 3:14 A.M ., at which time my eyes got too heavy to stay awake any longer, and I drifted off.
And just before I fell asleep, while I was in that hypnagogic state when you’re neither asleep nor awake, I thought about Paris. And the charm. And the charming man in the other room.
And my future started to make a little more sense.
S IX
I was hoping my going to bed last night would inspire Jay to encourage Seema to go to sleep, then engage in a little silent nocturnal traffic. True to my usual run of luck in the romance department, this never happened.
I wake up at 6:15 in the morning, alone in my bed.
This will not do. I have a charm to live up to.
I tiptoe out of my bedroom and into our living room to see Jay asleep on the couch.
He must be dreaming because he looks dreamy. His bare chest peeks out from under the light pink covers Seema loans out to guests.
“Jay,” I whisper.
With his eyes still closed, he moans ever so slightly, puckers his lips a bit, then rolls over to face me. It’s a coincidence—he’s still out cold.
I tiptoe to the couch and sit down quietly next to him. Then I lean toward his ear and whisper louder, “Jay.”
He effortlessly (there’s that word again) wraps his arm around my waist and whispers back in a sleepy voice, “I’m up. One more minute.”
The he pulls me into a spooning position.
Hmm. On the one hand, yummy. On the other hand—does he have any idea he’s just pulled me into a spooning position? Or does he think I’m a Yvette or a Laura or some other French girl?
I let his warm breath caress my neck for a while and dream of a life with him near the Seine. Without thinking, I take his hand, bring it to my mouth, and lightly kiss it. Then I rest my head onto his chest, grin like a Cheshire cat, and fall into a comfortable
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