Using my duffel as a pillow, I lie back on the dark steps and stare at the full moon. There’s a huge part of me that wants nothing more than to curl up in my mom’s lap and cry.
A year. That’s how long I’ve wasted with Griffin. A freaking year.
What did I miss? We were both focused on school. We were both looking forward to college and making sure we got into the schools we wanted. I thought we both were happy with our relationship.
But apparently he’s not having anyfunwith me.
“You going to stay out here all night, or are you going to come in and tell me what happened?”
I nearly fall off the step when my grandmother’s face looms over mine.
“Nonna!” I jump up and stumble into her arms, almost knocking us both over.
She runs a hand up and down my back. I start to cry all over again.
“Oh my, come in and tell me all about it.”
We walk inside, hand in hand, straight to the kitchen. Her kitchen is the heart of this house. It’s a big open room with lots of cabinets and counter space. The fridge is one of those gigantic stainless steel ones that’s covered in pictures, and I know if I open it, the shelves will be packed with food. There’s a row of bar stools along the side of the island and a huge wood farm table stretching in front of a row of windows that look out toward the neighbor’s house. And there is always a vase of fresh flowers sitting in the center.
It’s my favorite room in the house.
Nonna leads me to one of the bar stools, then cuts me a piece of the most decadent chocolate cake I’ve ever seen. There’s never a shortage of goodies here, and tonight definitely doesn’t disappoint.
“I don’t think you’re crying about your mom and dad leaving, so I assume this is about that boy. What’s his name?”
“Griffin,” I mumble.
“Yes, Griffin. Tell me what happened.”
I pause before taking a bite of the cake. I’ve always been close to Nonna, but we’ve never talked about my love life.
She notices my hesitation and says, “I raised four daughters. I promise you I’ve heard my fair share of heartbreak sitting right here in this very spot.”
I let out an awkward laugh. Nonna prides herself on her ability to fix what’s broken when it comes to this family—no problem is too big or small. She just can’t help herself.
She pours me a glass of milk, and I watch her move around the kitchen. She’ll be seventy-five in a little more than a week, but you’d never be able to tell, thanks to an inconsequential number of gray hairs and a faithful skin-care regimen. And she’s still strong enough to carry the huge bags of potting soil and mulch at the nursery, even though Papa fusses at her.
I take a deep breath. “I know I told you I was at Addie’s house, but I went somewhere else instead. A friend was having a party. I wanted to see Griffin before I came here. I was going to surprise him by telling him I’d be around during the holidays.”
Nonna’s eyebrows shoot up. “Uh-oh. That rarely turns out well.”
I choke down a laugh. “You can say that again.”
Nonna settles in next to me and takes a big bite out of her own piece of cake as I tell her everything. When I’m finished, she rubs circles on my back, and I fold into her. “Sweet Sophie, I know this feels like the end of the world right now, but it’s not. Better to see how Griffin feels now before you waste any more time with him.”
She hands me a napkin and I wipe my eyes dry. “But I thought we wanted the same things.”
“Things change all the time. Maybe you thought you two were moving in the same direction when really you weren’t.”
Once I finish my cake, she walks me from the kitchen to the guest room upstairs. “This room is all yours until your parents get back. Tomorrow, you can help me at the shop. Busy hands will keep your mind from wandering. And Olivia will be happy to have the company. She’s been pouty now that everyone else is out of school and she has to work.”
I let Nonna tuck me in and baby me like she did when I was a little girl. It feels nicer than I remember.
She kisses my head and says, “It will all seem better tomorrow.”
I hate to call Nonnaa liar, but it’s tomorrow and everything still pretty much sucks. My eyes are nearly swollen shut from all the crying, and I’ve got a headache that just won’t stop.
I glance at my phone. There are thirty-two missed calls and texts.
