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Rebecca either suggests it to be a dick or because she genuinely wants to help; Jamie pretends she can’t tell the difference sometimes.
“It might be good!” Rebecca says, tapping the screen of her phone.
“Not if it’s a front to murder and rob the touch-starved,” Jamie says.
“There are easier ways to do that.”
Jamie’s phone buzzes in her pocket; it’s the link to the website of the company in question.
“I’d hook you up myself if I were there,” Rebecca says. “You know I would.”
The image on her laptop screen freezes for a moment, then loads back in. Rebecca’s face is grainy. It’s morning where she is in America. Sometimes, it’s easy to forget she doesn’t live down the road anymore. This isn’t one of those times.
“That’s gay, Becs,” she teases and Rebecca laughs, the sound booming out of Jamie’s speakers with a gusto that makes her jump. “I’m not making any promises.”
Rebecca grins. Knows her too well probably. “Sure you are,” she says.
---
She keeps the tab open for a week, lets it get buried behind easy dinner-for-one recipes and Google searches about chronic fatigue syndrome. Forgets all about it until her monthly email from Denny arrives in her inbox, filling her in on the various details of his and his family’s lives. Finds the tab waiting for her when she goes to search for nearby therapists.
Calls before she can talk herself out of it.
---
The receptionist is kind, understanding. Must deal with people like her all the time.
Jamie’s confirmation email gives her a name: Danielle.
Hopefully it’s not the name of her murderer.
---
Danielle knocks at her door at 5:58, two minutes early.
Jamie’s folding the blanket she keeps over the back of her sofa. Gives her hair a quick zhuzh and then fumbles the door open.
A very pretty blonde woman is on the other side, blue-eyes and pink lips, wearing a Snuggle Bunnies hoodie. She thrusts a hand out, saying, “You must be Jamie. I’m Dani! It’s nice to meet you.”
Jamie shakes her head. “Hi.”
A lovely smile. Dani doesn’t let go. “Now,” she says, “where do you want me?”
---
In a different context, that question would have a different answer.
---
“Whatever you’re comfortable with,” Dani says, sitting beside Jamie on the sofa.
Jamie nods. Says, “Right,” and doesn’t think about Dani’s hips or lips or hair.
There are rules about that; she signed a contract stating that she understood them.
Dani’s a professional, like the receptionist. A seasoned car-wreck observer.
“Do you like true crime?” Jamie asks, grabbing the TV remote.
“Sure,” Dani says. “But it makes me sad.”
Jamie nods, pulling up Netflix. “Me too.”
---
Five minutes in:
“Is it okay if I put my arm around you?” Dani asks.
Jamie wasn’t expecting the offer to come in the form of a question. But: “Yeah. I’m– Go ahead.”
Dani goes ahead. It’s been a while since anyone touched Jamie like this. Hopefully Dani can’t tell.
---
“If I scheduled another session,” Jamie asks an hour later, needing to know for sanity’s sake, “would it be you again or...somebody new?”
“It can be me,” Dani says. “If you want.”
Jamie wants.
Plays it off. Says, “Okay, cool.”
“Worried about scaring off someone else with your cryptic TV habits?” Dani asks, pink-cheeked, wearing a sweater in the summer.
“I just like to be prepared.”
“To happen upon a mangled body?”
Jamie shrugs, cheek-aching smile. “Better safe than pregnant,” she says, no context really. Just an old joke from The Golden Girls.
Dani chokes on her own laughter, clutching Jamie’s arm to keep upright.
---
Something she’s trying to understand: whether it was nice just to be held for a while, or if it was nice to be held by Dani for a while.
Hates that she already knows the answer.
---
“How are you?” Rebecca asks.
“I’m good,” Jamie answers.
“Sure. You sound good.”
Queen of Sarcasm, Rebecca has a knack for rooting Jamie out of her usual hiding spots.
She’s in line at the chip shop. The little boy behind her keeps kicking the back of her heels while his father, all business suit and trimmed beard, types on his phone.
“I’m fine, really. Work’s been crazy. Wedding season and all.”
“And?”
Jamie sighs. “Laura’s pregnant again.”
“Denny’s Laura?”
“Yep.”
Another kick to her heels.
“What is this? Kid number three?”
“Yeah.”
“God, he keeps busy.”
“Apparently. Maybe he’ll let me meet this one.”
“Oh, babe. I’m sorry.”
The line shifts forward.
“It’s silly.”
“Not if it’s got you this messed up.”
“I’m fine.”
“You sound fine.”
The kid kicks her again. Jamie glares, but he’s too busy trying to get his dad’s attention.
“Thought I sounded good,” she says.
---
“Hello, you,” Dani says that Friday.
Jamie smiles. “Hey.”
---
She doesn’t ask how Jamie’s doing. Good. Jamie’s tired of lying.
Also: Dani is the professional cuddler Jamie’s hired to provide touch therapy.
Presumably, she already knows the answer.
---
This time, Dani wraps her in her arms and Jamie relaxes into the soft, lemon-scented warmth of her.
“Work at a little flower shop ’round the corner,” she says when Dani asks.
“Is it weird to say that sounds...romantic?”
Jamie is glad that, with her head on Dani’s shoulder, Dani can’t see her face. “It can be.” Nestles nearer. “What about you?”
Dani’s laugh rumbles against her ear. “If you don’t know, I should probably find a new job.”
---
Dani is a student at the same school as Jamie’s little brother. Her family lives in Iowa, wherever that is. She was a teacher for a while, then wanted a change.
“Big change,” Jamie says. “London alright to ya’?”
Fingers rubbing at her ribs. “Yeah,” Dani says. “I like it.”
---
Dani leaves with her phone number. “That way if you need to cancel or something, you can just contact me directly,” she says. “Same time next week?”
Jamie will have to beg off work early. She says, “That works.”
Closes the door once Dani’s gone. Feels outside of herself, stretched too thin. Not good or bad, just different.
---
Sometimes, she takes the underground to Euston Square and walks the rest of the way to meet Mikey near campus, at the food cart on Malet, for breakfast. Buys him a pastry and watches him eat it with sticky fingers as he talks about his classes.
He can be hard to look at, and not just because of the height difference. She always remembers him as he was when they were separated—baby-fat cheeks and grabby hands, burnt skin of his shoulders and neck.
Part of her resents that he grew up without her. She makes up for it by paying for his food.
Sips her tea and listens to him talk about Western philosophy. Thinks it’s a long shot, but has to ask anyway.
“You know a Danielle? Goes by Dani?”
Mikey frowns. Shakes his head.
Jamie shrugs. “S’fine. Just curious.”
“Friend of yours?”
“Sort of.”
People walking past the building where they’re leaned. Voices, laughter, city traffic. Jamie marvels at her brother, how he carries himself like a grown-up man.
“You hear from Denny?” he asks.
Jamie nods. “Yeah.”
“Don’t think either of us’ll beat that.”
It’s a joke, but it’s still true. Jamie forces a laugh.
Mikey waves when he goes. Jamie wonders what he’d do if she went in for a hug.
---
“I know you love grisly murders,” Dani says that Friday. “But hear me out.”
She pulls three Disney movies from her backpack, fanning them out on Jamie’s coffee table.
Jamie lets her pick.
Dani must be able to read her pretty well already. She picks Up like Jamie needs an excuse to cry.
She does. Need it, that is.
Ellie dies and Jamie cries into Dani’s neck. Lets herself be held.
---
“Sorry,” she says later. “I—”
Dani shakes her head. “Don’t.” She wipes Jamie’s lingering tears away with her thumbs. “Crying makes you feel better. Believe me.”
Jamie chuckles, the sound wet in her throat. “Do that a lot, do you?”
That damned smile. “Sure. A few times a day.”
The only other person Jamie’s ever cried in front of is Rebecca. Dani cups the back of her head and pulls her in, forehead to shoulder.
Oh, she thinks as Dani curls her fingers in her hair and then: shit.
---
The bride decides, two days before the wedding, that she wants orchids instead of peonies, which renders every other finished bouquet—bridal, bridesmaids, flower girl—useless. Charlotte, Jamie’s boss, deflates the moment the bride and groom leave.
“An absolute waste,” she laments.
“She could do loads better than him, yeah.”
Charlotte smiles. “Yes,” she says. “That, too.”
Too much to do, too little time. Charlotte phones a friend, even though it’s Hannah’s day off.
“I thought the peonies were lovely,” Hannah says, bustling in, dressed rather sharp for a Wednesday.
“Oh, Hannah,” Charlotte says, hand over her mouth. “You had lunch with Owen today!”
Hannah waves her off. “He’s making me dinner. I couldn’t let you ladies do this on your own.”
“I won’t interfere with my employees’ love lives.”
“You’re not interfering. Just...postponing.”
Jamie’s taking the bows off the old bouquets. Doesn’t have anything to add.
“Fine, but please say no next time.” A pause. “Jamie, you heard that, yes? Never let me keep you from a hot date.”
She and Hannah titter like it’s a private joke. Jamie glances at them, then away.
“Could I leave a little early on Friday?” she asks.
Charlotte blinks at her. Jamie has never asked off work before. “Of course,” she says. “What’s her name?”
Silence. Then Jamie fills it with, “Dani,” and then, “But it’s not like that.”
Charlotte and Hannah don’t believe her.
---
That Friday, she vacuums her flat then fidgets with her sofa’s throw pillows. Brushes her teeth. Lights a few candles. Throws the windows open to the heavy summer rain that just barely missed her commute.
Still: it’s not a date. There are rules.
Dani knocks on the door. Jamie finds her dripping onto her welcome mat, blonde hair soaked.
Jamie says, “Oh.”
Dani says, “I forgot my umbrella.”
---
Jamie’s clothes suit her—a shirt with Bumble from Rudolph on it, some loose sweatpants. Jamie wears all her clothes a size too big; Dani pulls it off well.
“Sorry,” Dani says. “This is above and beyond.”
So is the way Jamie wants to fist her hands in Dani’s damp hair. It’s all relative.
“I don’t mind,” she says.
They spend the hour in Jamie’s bed listening to the rain. She’s not used to having company, having someone in her bed.
No one’s ever come to visit for a third time before.
Dani looks right at home.
“Thanks,” she says, big spoon to Jamie’s little one.
Jamie presses her thumb against Dani’s bony wrist. Wishes this were real so deep it aches. It should be difficult, except—
Dani’s never asked for anything Jamie didn’t want to give. That’s why it’s easy.
---
“What do you know about Among Us?”
Jamie steers her cart one-handed. “Nothing. Why?”
Rebecca sighs. “The kids are obsessed. Shirley’s on the warpath.”
“Google is free.”
“So are you. Well, usually. Besides, you’re young and...hip to the times.”
There’s a family of four standing in front of the microwave meals. “Putting that in my CV,” Jamie says. “‘Usually’?”
Voices on the other end. Messy and energetic. Five kids is too many. Jamie’d have pulled her hair out already “Got your voicemail last night. Figured you were either dead or sleeping.”
“I was busy.”
Rebecca bawks. “Busy doing what?” she asks. “Busy doing whom?”
The family moves. Jamie grabs enough dinner for the week. “People are too invested in my love life.”
“Who’s ‘people’? I’m your best friend, you twat.”
Jamie’s head throbs, an emotional hangover. “I called that place, yeah?”
“What?” A pause. “Wait, you did? The cuddling place?”
“Yeah.”
“Look at you! How was it?”
“Good.” She hesitates. “I may have a crush on my...on my cuddler or whatever.”
“Wait,” Rebecca says.
“I feel gross about it.”
“Don’t! I imagine it’s easy to get...confused,” she says and Jamie winces. “She’s gotta be something if you’re mad for her already.”
Jamie splutters. “I’m not—”
“What’s her name? God, tell me everything! You sly dog. Jamie! Details!”
---
Jamie opens the door. “Hello, you.”
Dani grins. “Hello, you.”
---
Dani’s arms around her waist, nosing at her hair.
She makes it easy; makes being confused easy.
“You always smell really good,” Dani says.
Jamie presses her cheek into her pillow. “Say that to all the girls, do you?”
Laughter rumbling the bed springs. Dani’s thumb making circles on her hip. “Just you,” she says.
She does this for a living. That’s why she’s good at it.
Jamie’s cheeks are hot, boiled like sun-fever. “Oh,” she says. “Good.”
---
Charlotte says, “And how are you, Jamie dear?” like she thinks she’s being subtle.
Rebecca says, “How’s your lover?” like she thinks she’s being clever.
The answer: Jamie’s in trouble and Dani’s so good she brings Mary Poppins to their next session.
Wraps Jamie in her arms, sings along in her ear.
She’s good at her job; Jamie is hardly even lonely anymore.
---
“I figured out Among Us,” Rebecca says. “It’s a lot of lying.”
“Oh,” Jamie says, waiting for her microwave meal. “Did you know that Iowa is the birthplace of sliced bread?”
Rebecca—muffled, holding her hand over her phone— says, “Steve, don’t use the vents if Shirley is right there.”
The microwave beeps.
---
“What made you call that first time?” Dani asks, nose brushing against Jamie’s, arms wrapped around her in bed. She winces belatedly. “Sorry, crap. You totally don’t have to answer that if you—”
There are a few answers. Here’s one of them:
“I haven’t spoken to my dad in three years.”
Dani blinks. “Oh.”
A few others: “My mom left when I was a kid. My brothers and I grew up in the system. Denny has this perfect fucking life now and Mikey— My only friend moved to America and—” She pauses. Deep, shuddering breath. “You ever get to the station just a minute too late and miss your train?”
Dani palms her spine. “Oh, Jamie,” she whispers. “Come here, come here.”
Jamie folds into her. Listens to the steady beat of her heart, her breathing.
---
When she wakes, it’s dark and their session has long since been over. Dani only moves when Jamie goes to sit up.
“God, I’m so sorry,” Jamie says. “You didn’t have to—”
“I wanted to stay.” Dani sits up, too. Moves closer. “I wouldn’t have just left.”
A hand slips into her own. Their eyes meet and it’s charged and strained and Jamie is not imagining that Dani is leaning in, too, that she’s—
Pulling back. Saying, “I can’t...do this anymore.”
Nope. Didn’t imagine that either.
---
I’m sorry, Dani texts after rushing out. I can recommend you to someone else on our team if you want.
Jamie doesn’t want anyone else. Types that. Deletes it.
at least tell me what i did? she sends.
The answer: Nothing. It’s my fault.
And, yeah. Jamie knows what a breakup line sounds like.
What it feels like.
Back to the front door, knees to chest. Crying again.
It feels like this.
---
“She didn’t say why?” Rebecca asks.
“No,” Jamie says, phone clutched to her ear. “She didn’t.”
“Oh, babe. I’m sorry.”
She says that a lot; it’s a staple of their friendship, though nothing’s ever been her fault.
Jamie nods to nobody. “Me, too.”
---
Snuggle Bunnies calls the next morning. The same receptionist asking if she’d be interested in one of their other snugglers.
“Did Dani say...what changed?” she asks, too desperate to be anything but brave.
“Um...I believe she said it was a...conflict of interest?”
Phrased as a question, like she’s not sure if she should be handing out that information to the conflict in question.
Jamie doesn’t know what to do with that.
---
A week passes. No word from Dani.
Jamie meets Mikey for breakfast and hugs him goodbye this time. Laughs as he pulls her off the ground, spinning her around. Emails Denny back. Finally calls her dad.
Funny, the things a distracted heart can accomplish.
it was weird not seeing you today, she texts on Friday.
A minute later, she gets a response:
You too.
---
Jamie opens her door the next morning to find Dani standing just outside it. She’s wearing the Bumble t-shirt; Jamie’s been wondering where it got off to.
They talk over each other, eager to be heard:
“Oh,” Dani says, bright-eyed with surprise. “I didn’t—”
“Dani,” Jamie says. “What are you—?”
Dani reaches out and touches Jamie’s arm. “I should have explained.”
“So explain.”
“We have rules about this,” Dani says. “About staying...professional and platonic. There was this guy last semester who tried to kiss me, really tried, and my boss wanted to press charges, but—”
Jamie’s turn to touch her. She laces their fingers together, grips the fabric of her own t-shirt on Dani’s body with her other hand. “Dani,” she says and Dani recalculates.
Says, “I have feelings for you. And...I was so worried that you’d freak out or-or—”
Jamie laughs. Feels like crying. They’re almost the same height. She never noticed before.
Good, she thinks; makes this easier.
Jamie kisses her, heart pinching in her chest. Tilts to get a better angle. Dani makes this humming noise and kisses back, parts her lips. Makes it easy—so easy. Jamie isn’t confused anymore.
Dani was there for her, now she can be there for Dani.
How it should be.
Pulling back, Dani bumps their foreheads together. “All this time,” she says, “I’ve been torturing myself over nothing, haven’t I?”
Jamie laughs. Rebecca in another country, Denny in another life, Mikey in the city, her dad a phone call away, but Dani—
Dani right here.
She leans in, kisses her again, and says, “You and me both.”
