“Do you remember him?”
“A little.” I consider. “I mostly remember things were different with my mom. Life got really hard after he died, so Gramma—his mom—helped out a lot. Mom used to call us the same person two generations apart.” I laugh. “I look just like her. So did my dad.”
He nods. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, Mom and I do better in small doses so I moved to Chicago after school. It’s easier this way.” I squeeze my arms around my midsection, ignoring the night’s perfect chill.
“Even with Emily having a baby?”
I nod slowly. “Even with Emily having a baby.” I pause. “But I reserve the right to change my mind at any time. I love Chicago, but this place will always feel like home.”
He nods in agreement. “Do you want to sit?”
“I mean, our butts will get wet but I’ve reached the point in this night where I stopped giving a damn.”
He takes off his suit jacket, lays it out like a picnic blanket, and gestures to the ground. “My lady...”
I sit on his jacket and lie down so my shoulders are in the grass, the yellow silk of my dress soaking up the earth. He lays next to me and we stare up at the starlit summer sky.
“Tell me something great about your grandma,” he prompts. It’s sweet, but it surprises me.
“Gramma was... so funny. And smart. And honest.” I think for a moment. “She actually had a lake cabin not far from here. My mom rents it out. We say cabin because it’s a 1,500 square foot, three-bedroom house instead of a 7,000 square-foot mansion that some football player lives in. She had it since before this area became as affluent as it is. It still has the same wallpaper from 1963, and the wood paneling is questionable, but man, all my good memories are there at that house. Iced tea on the porch. Jumping in the lake on the first warmish day of the season even though the water was still ice cold.” I laugh and JP smiles down at me.
“It sounds perfect,” he says.
“It was,” I agree. “There was this big oak tree in the lawn that would glow when the sun set. I always thought Gramma should put up a tire swing. She never did, though. She said she loved me more than life itself but not enough to break her neck over an old tire and strip of rope.”
JP laughs. “She sounds like a character from a movie.”
“She was better than that. I miss her every day.” I swallow before I confess. “Last night I dreamt of her. It was so real. I climbed the wood steps to the porch, where she was sitting on her rocking chair looking out at the lake. We sat and talked. It was just a dream but when I woke up, I felt so much better about... everything.”
“You know, it’s a good sign to have passed relatives visit you in your dreams,” he says.
“Really?” I peer at him.
“Really.” He tilts his head in an adorably golden retriever way. “Theoretically. It means they are passing you a gift for your future of some sort. Sometimes it’s about closure, though. And other times, it’s about guidance.”
“That right?”
He shrugs. “That’s the theory. And if you lose a tooth, it means your life is about to go through a serious transition. Falling means you’re experiencing uncertainty. And receiving a gift can symbolize that you feel appreciated in real life.”
I raise my brows. “Wow. You’re a plethora of dream information.”
He shrugs. “They’re just theories. I wouldn’t know if they’re real.”
“Really? Why not? What do you dream about?” I ask, turning my head back to the stars in the sky.
“Nothing. I sleep like a husband,” he deadpans, and I burst out laughing.
“You’re a good man for knowing exactly what that means for so many women.”
He offers a bashful smile but nothing more. I find myself needing to intentionally peel my gaze from his beautiful green eyes and keep the conversation going so I don’t melt and surrender to his wit and innocence.
“Tell me about your family,” I prompt, and he smiles into his thoughts.
“Big family. A lot of sisters.” He laughs and it makes me smile. “A lot of aunts and uncles too. Big Italian family—very cliché. At least on my mom’s side.”
I grin wide, loving this detail about him. “Are you from here or Chicago?”
