“Only the dead didn’t hear that,” she snorts.
Feeling a strong pang of guilt, I ask, “Are you okay?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Another snort while she salutes me with her cup. “I woke up before you and snuck out this caffeinated goodness before you could spoil my fine morning.”
“Grandma,” I sigh loudly. “You know you can’t have caffeine.”
“You shush.” She waves me off with her hand.
I want to continue scolding her for her bad habit but there’re more urgent matters.
“I’m sorry you had to witness that.”
“Sorry about what? Two men fighting over my granddaughter?” She takes a sip of coffee, and her face stretches with a wide smile. “I’m not sorry about that. I was about to send Reggie at the dickwart when I heard that you already had someone over there fighting for your honor.”
“Reggie?” Who is Reggie? Is Grams losing it finally? I’ve been dreading this moment.
Her eyes widen, and she hides her face behind the rim, gulping the hot liquid like it’s her salvation.
“You drank yesterday?” She switches the subject in thin air the way I change crystals on my nightstand every evening.
“No,” I reply, watching her for any signs that her memory is beginning to give up.
“That’s a shame.” She tsks, making me laugh.
Grandma finally lifts her eyes, and I know that look—it’s the one she uses when she’s trying to x-ray you without asking a single question out loud, and all my doubts about her mental health are gone in an instant.
“You going somewhere?” she asks.
I glance at the thermos I’m prepping. “Thought I’d bring coffee next door,” I reply, feeling shameful meeting her eyes.
Her eyebrows raise, but just a little. “Oh?”
“Yeah.”
“Is Steve even awake at this hour?”
I press my lips together to hold back a laugh. “That’s not his name, Grandma.”
She waves her toast. “Steve, Jericho, whatever. Grumpy boy with nice arms.”
“Grandma,” I laugh.
“What?” She shrugs. “You think I’m blind?”
I shake my head, grinning as I finish topping the thermos. “You’re incorrigible.”
“And you’re glowing.” She switches the path of her thoughts—or mine—once again.
That makes me pause. I turn, brow raised. “I am not.”
“You are,” she says smugly. “I won’t say anything. But just know, when you’re ready to talk, I’ve got ice cream and judgment-free ears.” Then she adds with a finger lifted in the air, “Very curious ears.”
I smirk. “No offense, but you judge people all the time.”
She grins. “It comes with old age.”
I walk over, kiss her on the cheek, and she pats my hand like she already knows everything I’m not saying.
