I let my laugh escape. “You look like the Abominable Snowman.”
Her eyes crinkle above her scarf. “That’s exactly the look I was going for.”
“Is it okay if I sit down for a bit?”
Her smile spreads wide. “I’d love that.”
I sit next to her. The heater hums faintly, and I’m surprised how well it works. She’s right. It’s not bad out here. For a second, we just sit in comfortable silence, the lake stretching gray and endless in front of us, her needles clacking away.
“Anything on your mind, honey?” she asks.
I start talking. Not about the restaurant. Not about the resort. Not about Jackson’s schemes or the staff at Elm & Echo or any of the various things on my mind. No, I end up circling, hesitating, and then spilling the whole damn thing about Juju.
It comes out in staccato bursts, like I’ve been storing it up too long: the fights, the bickering, the way I pretended for so long that she drove me insane, when really I just wanted her attention. And then the cracks in the armor. How she smiles at me now, not just in annoyance but like maybe she’s finally looking back at me and actuallyseesme too. How I’ve kissed her,God help me, and I don’t regret it for a second. How I want our first date to be special. And then I tell her all about Jackson and why we’re keeping everything quiet.
When I finally stop, Grandma Donna lowers the knitting into her lap. She studies me for a few quiet moments.
“Your mom told me to be on the lookout for this,” she says finally. “She said when the time was right, I’d know, and I should give you this advice: Go for it. Don’t be afraid to show her how you feel. If you still love her after loving her for a lifetime, then you will have the life of your dreams. You just have to take the next step and make sure she knows how you feel.”
My throat tightens. I huff out a laugh, part nerves, part disbelief. “Wow. That sounds like Mom.” I get choked up. “I think she knows how I feel…I kissed her,” I remind her.
Her eyes widen. “Yes, back to that. You’ve kissed her but haven’t taken her on a proper date?” She tsks. “I know your mother raised you better than that.”
I let out a groan and rub a hand over my face. “It wasn’t…the ideal way to go about it. But…it was pretty great—” I laugh.
“You’re telling me you’ve got all this heat with her, and you’re wasting it on being careful not to let anyone know?”
“You make it sound simple.”
“It is simple,” she says firmly, needles resuming their clicks. “You boys like to complicate things. But honey, if you feel the way you just described, you need to show her, not just with stolen kisses.”
“Jackson would never approve,” I mutter.
“Jackson doesn’t get a vote,” she says without hesitation. “He loves his sister, yes, but this isn’t about him. It’s about you and Juliana.”
“I don’t want to screw it up,” I admit, softer than I mean to. “I’ve wanted this for so long. Since—God, I don’t even knowhow far back. And with how awful things got between us, I keep thinking I’ll ruin it again.”
She lays her knitting aside again, her gloved hand resting briefly on my arm. “Youwillruin it, Camden, if you don’t give her the chance to see the real you. Take her on a date. Make her laugh. Let her know she’s worth your time and effort. That’s how you honor feelings like these.”
Her words hit me hard. For a second, I can picture it: Juju at a little table, candlelight flickering, her hair catching the glow. I can hear her laugh, the one that slips out before she can stop it. I can imagine holding her hand across the table, not in secret, not rushed, but because she wants me to.
“I don’t even know if she wants all of this,” I admit. “Yes, she likes kissing me, but––”
“She wants this,” Grandma Donna says matter-of-factly. “I’ve been watching the two of you before you even knew what a crush was. There’s a pull there. Everyone can see it.”
I laugh and make a face. “Even Jackson?”
She gives me a sly look. “I bet Jackson sees it and pretends he doesn’t. He thinks protecting his sister means keeping her away from trouble. But what he forgets is that love is always a little trouble. And it’s worth it.”
I lean back against the bench, staring at the lake. “You make it sound like I should walk right over to Kitty-Corner and ask her out tonight.”
Her eyes glint with humor. “If not tonight, soon. Don’t let too many tomorrows pass.”
I sit with her a while longer, listening to the steady click of needles and the lake wind whipping. My head feels quieter. Calmer.
When I finally stand, she pats my arm. “Remember—kisses are wonderful, but they’re not the foundation. The two of youhave built some of that with time, but now, move forward with intention.”
I nod, swallowing hard. “Thanks, Grandma Donna.”
