“Thanks,” I say, having more to think about.
We shift to lighter topics—her work as a photographer, my job with Parks & Rec, and the Fireman’s Ball. By the time lunch ends, I feel like I’ve gained not just Patton’s mother’s approval, but a friend.
“One more thing,” she says as we’re leaving. “Forbes would have loved you. You’re exactly the kind of woman he’d want for his son—someone who sees past the tough outer shell to the heart underneath.”
I hug her goodbye, tears threatening again. “Thank you.”
“Thank you for loving my boy. Now go tell him that before he completely loses his mind.”
Shortly after, when I pull up to Grandma’s cottage, she hastily closes the cabinet that houses all of her photo albums, looking oddly guilty.
“Welcome back,” she says too cheerfully. “How was lunch?”
“Good. Great, actually.” I narrow my eyes. “Why do you look like you’re hiding something?”
“Me? Hiding something? Never.”
“Grandma.”
“Fine. Patton stopped by.”
My heart lurches. “He what?”
“While you were having your clandestine meeting with his mother, we had a chat.” She grins. “He wanted to hear more embarrassing stories about you.”
I feel pale. “You didn’t.”
“I absolutely did. Showed him your second-grade school photo with the missing front teeth and the unfortunate bowl haircut.”
“Grandma!”
“He thought you looked adorable. His words, not mine. Also, your parents called. They want to rent the cottage.”
I blink, trying to keep myself from having conversational whiplash. “What cottage?”
“The rental property, sweetheart. They’re selling their house in Reno and want to take a proper vacation while they figure out their next steps. Aside from the trips to Italy to visit your father’s family, they haven’t taken a real vacation in thirty-five years.”
Realization hits me. “They never just … relaxed.” Tragically, I relate.
“Well, they’re going to now and your Nonna too. We’ll bring her to bingo night.”
“Just do not let her get involved with the Great Brownie Battle.”
“I can’t make any promises.” Grandma pats my hand. “But I have a feeling everything is working out, sweetheart.”
I just hope she’s right.
After a shower, I change into fresh clothes—jeans and a soft yellow shirt Patton once said makes me look like springtime—and stare at myself in the mirror.
You can do this. Just show up. Tell him the truth. Don’t run.
I grab the enamel Gus the squirrel pin I got as a prototype for the Fire & Ice Fest. I tuck the ridiculous tiny chickaree squirrel with a firefighter helmet in my pocket.
A couple leaves the bakery when I arrive. Patton stands behind the counter, arranging trays in the display case. He looks up when I enter, and his expression shifts from surprise to relief to something I can’t quite name.
“Hi.” I close the door behind me, suddenly nervous.
“I thought I saw you leaving this morning and I thought?—”
