“I was convincing.” I winked. “And you have my blessing, if that’s what you’re after.”
He curled his hand around the bottle. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”
My grandfather died almost sixteen years ago. Grandma was alone, and so was Dawson. Who was I to tell them what they should or shouldn’t do? I searched myself for the resentment, anger, and jealousy I’d felt when my mother announced she was seeing Russell—but found nothing. Only relief. Only happiness that Grandma had someone besides me to care for her.
“I’m sure,” I said. “As long as you treat her right.”
Dawson’s lips twitched. “I will. Thank you.”
I took a swig of beer and set the bottle down. “I can’t believe I didn’t realize sooner. You two kept in touch all this time, didn’t you?”
“We did,” Dawson said. “But before, the time wasn’t right.” He paused, scratching the label on his bottle. “I don’t think I’ll carry on with Forward Racing another season.”
“Why?”
He drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “I got an offer here in Jerez. And Russell and I…we haven’t been on the best of terms lately. Guess I can’t move past the way he treated you.”
“If the job in Jerez is better, take it. But don’t say no to Forward Racing because of me.”
“I know. I just don’t think Maricarmen deserves to wait another season. And I’d rather be here with her. I love this country, Ash. And I love your grandmother.”
The words sounded strange, but they didn’t bother me. Quite the opposite—I was glad for them both.
“Are you going to have dinner with us?” I asked. “I wanted to take Kaia somewhere first, but come over later.”
“Tomorrow,” Dawson said.
I finished my drink and tossed the bottle in the trash. Dawson walked me outside and watched as I climbed into the car.
Five minutes later, I stepped into Grandma’s courtyard. She sat at a table with Kaia, laughing softly as she flipped through what looked like my childhood photos.
“Look how chubby,” she said. “Who would’ve thought all that baby fat would turn into muscle?”
Kaia giggled. “I mean, I’m not complaining.”
“Objectifying me in my absence? Not cool, peque.”
Kaia whipped around, a hand pressed to her chest. “Ash! You scared me.”
I bent down, cupped her face, and kissed her. “Caught you.” I brushed her lips again. “But please, carry on.”
Grandma chuckled, tapping a red nail against another picture. “Remember this, Ash? I still have that bicycle somewhere.”
My chest tightened as she showed Kaia the photo—Dad, Miguel, and me. I was clutching the handlebars of the bike Miguel gave me for my seventh birthday.
“Miguel used to say Ash could cycle once he got tired of bikes,” Grandma said. “And Ash got mad at him for even suggesting he’d lose interest in racing. But then he didn’t let go of that bicycle all summer.”
Kaia gave me a tender smile, then turned to her. “So Miguel stopped talking to you too? Ash has been trying to get in touch with him. We even stopped by his place in Madrid.”
“Did you?” Grandma arched a brow. “Did you speak to him? I think Sergio’s funeral was the last time I saw him. Miguel and my son were close. Like brothers,” she told Kaia. “And Miguel treated Ash as his own. I thought he’d still be around after my son’s death, but I was wrong.”
“By the way, Ash, what took you so long? You texted a while ago you were on your way,” Kaia asked, probably to keep sadness from settling in. I was grateful she did.
I moved behind her chair and set my hands on her shoulders. As my thumbs worked slow circles, she leaned into my touch. “Dawson wanted to talk,” I said, glancing at Grandma. “I told him about the guy you’re seeing—Juanma, the gardener.”
Grandma slid her glasses back on. “You told him what?”
Kaia groaned. “Ash! He’s kidding, Maricarmen. Your grandson’s got a terrible sense of humor.”
