He takes a step closer, nearly brushing my side as he speaks softly. “If you’re uncomfortable here, I don’t want to stay.”
“It’s weird,” I speak slowly, surprised I’m confessing my true feelings instead of pretending to be brave. “I’m an expert with people when I’m in my element. Give me a hardware store, or the park, and I never even crack a nerve, but this feels . . .” I blow out a breath, unable to finish my thought as my gaze fixes on a row of model-tall women, all lined up in dresses that were more than likely worth more than all my earthly possessionscombined. I search for something to soothe me. Opera music plays in the background, and everybody is eating and drinking with their pinky fingers jutting out. It’s so proper—not at all my scene. “Phew. I’ve never been socially anxious before.”
“It stinks. Trust me. It’s why I hate these things.”
“Here, I thought I was going to be helpful to you.” I cringe into an “I’m-sorry smile” and shift my weight from one heel to the other. “Can I tell you the truth?”
“Sure.”
“I sort of hate it here already.”
Christian's lips spread into a genuine grin. “Did we actually find something we agree on?”
“I think so.” I rush to agree, still clutching my imaginary pearls. “Let’s bail fast before someone sees us.”
Christian scans the room once more, not looking at all disappointed before holding out his arm for me to latch onto. “Let’s bust out of this place.”
I tuck my arm into his, allowing him to properly escort me out. “Where are we going?” I whisper out of the side of my mouth. Being this close to him brings a whiff of his aftershave that hints of a sea crusted breeze, making me feel lighter on my toes.
“I feel bad I dragged you out, and you didn’t even get anything to eat.” He tugs on my arm, pulling me faster the closer we get to the door. “I already paid for two hours of parking. What do you say we walk around the block? I saw an Irish pub on the way.”
“Sounds good to me.” We round the corner in the hall, taking a wrong turn. Instead of finding the hotel exit, we stumble across another event room. A cheery arch of gold and burgundy balloons frames the doorway and laughter wafts from inside the vibrantly lit room. Slowing as we pass in front of the door, I peek inside, and spot a three-tiered cake on a head table with a ‘Happy Birthday, Pappi!’ gold banner above it.
“That looks cute.” I nod toward the room as a lady walks out. She’s dressed in her Sunday best, a modest dress, and heels to match. Her hair is piled high into a Marge Simpson bun, and her shining eyes round when they find me. “Alisa! We’ve been waiting for you.”
“Ah.” I startle into a stillness. “I’m sorry, you have the wrong person.”
She places a hand on my arm, leaning into my ear, and whispers, “I know you aren’t Alisa. But please, please, please, if you have any spec of a human heart and ten minutes, can you go along with it? It’s my grandpa’s birthday, and he’s sitting here waiting for his favorite granddaughter. He has dementia and doesn’t remember she ran off with her boyfriend. She hasn’t spoken to anyone in the family for a year. Please, just give us ten minutes.” She folds her hands in prayer, pleading. “I’m afraid he’s about to cry. He has terminal cancer, with only months to live, and we want so badly for him to enjoy his party. He refuses until he sees Alisa.”
“Ah.” I part my lips, feeling how dry they are in the stale air while I glance at Christian.
He offers an encouraging shrug. Talk about shoulders. I love it when he does that. “We don’t have anything else to do.”
“Okaaay.” I take a few steps forward while smoothing my hair. “Do I look all right? What should I say?”
“He’s nearly blind. It doesn’t really matter what you look like.” She extends her arm, ushering me inside the room. “By the way, my name’s Ashley and we’re best friends and cousins. Just be sure to call him Pappi, and maybe joke about how he eats too much ice cream.”
“I can do that.” As this feels a lot like my recruiting skit, I place my recruiting smile on my face and toss a glance at Christian, all the while my heart breaks as I think about this poor mannot understanding why his favorite grandchild isn’t there on his special day.
“Oh, he can come.” Ashley waves him forward. “He’s too cute to leave in the hall. Help yourself to some food. Please, make yourself comfortable. This means so much to me.”
The three of us enter, simultaneously skirting along the edge of the room until we make it to the head table. A little man with a silver beard and a few long strands of a matching combover, partially concealing a shiny head, hunches over in his chair. His dull gray eyes, devoid of any sparks, stare forward with a forlorn expression.
“Pappi, look who I found outside,” Ashley calls out, sparking the man to look our way. As soon as he sees me, his eyes fire a spark of light.
“Alisa!” He reaches forward, waiting for a hug. All the eyes in the room are on me, but nobody moves to act as if I’m out of place. I lean in, giving Pappi a big squeeze. His scent, a mixture of black licorice and oregano, wafts up my nose while I lightly pat his back until I pull away.
A tear buds in the corner of his eyes, and even though I’ve just met this man, my smile is genuine. “Happy birthday, Pappi!”
“My Alisa.” He adds a sweet Italian accent to the s, making it sound utterly adorable. His whole expression has been ignited with life, which warms my heart. “I’ve been waiting for you all night. How have you been?”
“Better now that I’m here.” I’m so touched by the tears forming in his eyes, I grab his hand and squeeze. This feels like a real reunion. “Sorry, I'm late. I had ah . . . a fundraiser for work.”
Ashley stands back a few feet, her eyes beaming back at me. Tears are budding in her eyes, too. Most of the people in the room wear hopeful expressions, and all focus this way.
“You sound a little different.” His gray eyes continue to sparkle back at me, but they don’t look suspicious, rather seeped in joy.
“I’m getting over a cold.” I squeeze his hand again. “Tell me, have you had any good ice cream lately?”
