Page 169 of The Virgin Romance Novelist Chronicles
“You’re impossible.”
Without letting me answer, he grabbed me by the shoulder and took me to the party section, but not before grabbing some elephant-sized condoms for the leg game. Still wasn’t sure about all that just yet, so I would keep it on the back-burner for now.
One of the shop walls was set up for people like us—those looking to spend an obscene amount of money on trinkets that would most likely be thrown out in the morning. Everything was cheap, flimsy, and phallicy; just what Delaney wanted.
“I’m going to get a basket,” Henry said. “Start collecting items.”
I pulled out my list and began searching for what Delaney had asked for . . . scratch that,what she’d demanded.
Penis whistles, check.
Penis sippy cup, check.
Penis shot glass necklaces, check.
Penis sash, check.
Penis crown—with detachable veil with penises on it . . . unfortunately check.
“What do you have?” Henry asked, sidling up next to me with two baskets. Smart man.
I held up my goods and dumped them into the baskets. “There is also a miniature blowup man with an erect penis that I feel Delaney would probably enjoy carrying around.”
“I agree,” Henry said, looking at the other items on the wall. “Penis candy?”
“No.” I stopped him before he could put it in the basket. “Delaney said no penis candies, hard or gummy. She’s tested them and thought they were gross.”
“Fair enough.” He looked around and then started laughing. “Didn’t she want a penis piñata?”
I turned and saw what Henry was looking at and couldn’t help laugh. In all its glory, on the top shelf was a giant four-foot papier-mâché penis, decorated with frilly paper and a perfectly round mushroom head.
“That needs to go home with us,” I said, staring at it.
“Yup, and we have to make sure to keep it away from Sir Licks-a-Lot, because I can only imagine that stupid feline wanting to use it as a scratching post.”
“He better not.”
We spent the rest of our time picking out items to stuff the piñata with and stocking up on enough paraphernalia to outfit at least four army brigades, but better safe than sorry. Knowing Delaney, if everyone didn’t have at least two penis whistles, she would throw a fit.
Henry, the amazing boyfriend he was, paid for all the penises and didn’t even glance my way when I held out my card. It was so stupid, but to have someone who did kind things like pay for my best friend’s penis party, made my heart beat a little faster. Clearly, I didn’t love Henry for his money, but the gesture was sweet. He made me feel cherished, worshipped, taken care of, and that was a foreign feeling, one I never wanted to lose.
“Pizza?” Henry asked, walking next to me toward the pizza shop down the block.
“Yes, please.” I glanced at him. His arms were full of bags. I couldn’t help giggling as we walked down the streets of New York City—where everyone, thankfully, was a little eccentric—giant penis piñata in hand, and a bag of dicks dangling from our fingers.
“Nice dick,” a man called out from a passing taxi, followed by laughter.
Henry shook his head. “You owe me for this, Rosie.”
“Why? That penis suits you.”
“Does it? I didn’t know a papier-mâché penis was something that could suit someone.”
“If anyone can pull it off, it’s you, hot stuff,” I replied, giving him a giant smile and loving the way his eyes sparkled whenever he looked at me.
“You still owe me.” He winked, sending a chill up my spine, a really good chill.
Chapter Thirty
