Inappropriate

by Vi Keeland

“I can’t. I promised Christian I’d make him his favorite dinner—tortellini ala Mia.” “What’s that?” “Tortellini in a cream sauce. He loves the sauce, so I let him paint it on me when he’s done.” “TMI, friend.”

“Maybe invite Ireland Saint James to be part of it.” “Ireland? The woman who sent you the decapitated flowers?” Well, when she said it like that, it sounded a little nuts to create a committee out of thin air and invite someone who cut the heads off of the expensive flowers I sent her and walked out on our lunch date before we’d even ordered. I sighed. “Yeah, her.”

“Dance with me.” I shook my head. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.” He smirked. “I’m fucking positive it’s not.”

Pops turned back and yelled, “Goodbye, Charlize!” I poked my head out the car door. “Later, Balls!”

“Oh. And I should tell you I don’t kiss on the first date.” I took the handle of the bag, along with her hand, and used it to yank her closer to me. “That’s good. Because this was our first date. See you Friday, Ireland.”

“I do have a date tonight, but you don’t have anything to be worried about because he’s married.” “Come again?”

“What the hell?” a voice said. Grant stopped the kiss, but stayed put and shut his eyes while shaking his head. “Shut the door, Leo.” “Who’s the girl?” “Leo!” he raised his voice. “Shut the door. We’ll be right out.” I looked around Grant at a boy who seemed no more than eleven or twelve. He waved, flaunting an ear-to-ear grin. “She’s too pretty for your ugly ass.”

“Take off your underwear before you come. Because when we’re done with lunch, I’m going to eat you on my desk.”

My aunt used to say grief was a lot like swimming in the ocean. On the good days, we could float on top with our heads above water, feeling the sunshine on our faces. But on the bad days, the water grew violent, and it was difficult not to get sucked under and drown. The only thing we could do was learn to be stronger swimmers.

Grant lifted me off my feet and swung me around. “I love you pregnant. I love your big belly. And your big tits. I even love shaving your legs for you when you can’t bend down anymore. You gave me life again, Ireland, and you being pregnant is proof of that.” “That’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me. Well, minus the tits comment.” Grant smiled. “Good. Because it’s the truth. Now get your pregnant ass on the bed so I can give you my gift.”