Pretty soon we’ve amassed a semicircle, like I’m a librarian at story time, so I continue passing out calendars and smiles, letting the camaraderie build before layering in pitch points. To my bafflement and delight, Mags and Bayou Meemaw hit it off. Soon they’re discussing finding houses next door to each other, relief filling their niece’s and daughter’s expressions.
I experience the exact opposite once I realize I’ve lost track of Noah and my mother.
Doing my best not to splinter off into a dozen worst-case scenarios, I launch into my spiel on clubs and activities. “Including a community favorite—Boozy Bingo.”
“That’s a personal favorite of mine,” Noah says from directly behind me, and I spin like a top inside, eagerly awaiting the moment I can twirl into him.
I cast a sassy glance over my shoulder, thinking I’ll gain the upper hand…
I’m a goner the instant I meet endlessly blue eyes that twinkle with mischief.
“Mia,” Rita singsongs. “I found Dr. Vasquez wandering around outside and thought you might—Dios míos.” Her brown eyes fly wide, her arm and finger indicating she’s spotted my mom as she whips toward Wanda, who’s trailing so closely behind Carlos they nearly collide. “Where’s Helen?”
My grandmother is bringing up the tail end, and tension crackles through the air as she and Mom lock eyes across the distance. So many retirement village hopefuls crowd the area, and this is where they have to have a showdown? Also, could they not?
“Nobody told me Mia and Noah were on another date,” Rita says, “or I wouldn’t have brought the doctor.” She pulls a face. “That’s on me for making it awkward.”
My cheeks are bright red, I can tell from the heat radiating off my face. It’s one thing to tell a guy that things might not work out, and then there’s inviting him to the grand opening of me getting flirty with another man.
“We’re not turning my granddaughter into a swinger,” Grandma Helen says, and my brain refuses to acknowledge this is a real thing that is happening. “Unless that’s what she wants,” she adds for the sake of the gaping crowd, and this is a shining example of why I didn’t ask the Cronies to be part of the pep squad for the open house—the more unruly grannies, the less I can control.
I summon a smile from the depths of my panicking soul and join the pointing club, gesturing to Jan and the cluster of people in the entryway. “If interested parties will please form a line at the door, our property manager will be by to collect you for the next tour.”
That clears out the resident hopefuls, and Noah steps up to my side and hooks a possessive hand on my hip.
I am a contrast of sensations, affection and warmth warring with flustering impropriety, and am I okay with Noah claiming me? “Carlos,” I say, a little shakily.
“Mia.” He nods. “How’s the finger?”
“Better.” I lift it like that’ll tell him anything. “I’m hoping my doctor will let me switch to buddy taping soon.”
He grins at that, chasing away the residual awkwardness. I’m so glad we can have a nice, cordial conversation, almost like nothing happened. On paper, he’s perfect for me; back in Miami while putting in seventy hours a week, I would’ve leaped at a guy who’d leave me alone to do my work for weeks and weeks.
But as I told the handsome doctor after I drove him home, I didn’t think we should hang out or date or whatever-we-were-doing anymore.
“It’s the work thing, isn’t it? Still too much for you?” he’d asked with a resigned sigh.
“No.” I’d looked across the console of the car, into his handsome, dimpled face and said, “It’s me. I’ve changed.”
And I have, in so many ways. No matter what happens, I’ll always look back on my golden era with the biddies fondly.
I glance at Noah, my heart rate picking up speed at the chiseled and clenched jawline. “You okay?”
“This is exactly why I told myself…” He shakes his head the tiniest, nearly imperceptible amount and mutters, “All this time I thought the men fighting over my grandma were ridiculous, but here I am, having a moment.”
Given the drunken butterflies that overtake my fluttering heart, so am I.
What if I stayed?
I have too much on my plate right now to seriously contemplate whether dating Noah would be enough to let go of my dream of returning to Miami, and the top priority has to be this event. My Hail Mary pass is sailing like a dream, but I won’t know if it’s caught until we reach that vital 85 percent mark.
All at once, our ragtag group bursts out talking, and the voices are heated and accusatory, but I’m struggling to sort one from the next.
Okay, now they’re definitely arguing and drawing attention, too.
Then Mom’s voice booms loudest. “This is exactly what I was afraid of,” she practically yells, and what even is my life right now? “Anytime you pull Mia into your hijinks, you make the biggest messes, and then I’m left to fix it.”
The record scratch resonates through me, the unfinished melody of my possible success abandoned and unresolved.
