“They’re from the family collection,” I say.
“Ah.” He checks the labels and raises his eyebrows. “And your folks know you’re giving us these?”
“They’re fine with it.” Each bottle costs less than the croc-skin purse Mom gave Aspen anyway.
“I see.” Questions fleet through his gaze, but he nods. “Well, come on in. Dinner’s ready.” He turns to Aspen. “Your grandma made your favorite.”
She grins. “Pot roast?”
“Yup.” Kat smiles. “Do you like pot roast?” she asks me.
It’s an effort to remember the last time I had any, but I put on my most sincere face. “Love it.”
“Well, then. Perfect.”
The meal’s served in a cozy dining room with a small round table. I like it because I get to sit close to Aspen. Kat puts the daisies into a vase on the table, which adds to the festive mood. The food is simple: pot roast with potatoes, rolls and salad. Nothing like the fancy meals my family and their friends would serve to demonstrate how refined and sophisticated their palates are when they have guests over. But I like the simplicity and lack of pretension. Most importantly, I love how relaxed and happy Aspen is.
Kenny uncorks one of the Bordeaux and pours it into two glasses.
“Everything good, Grant?” Kat asks after I have a bite.
“Yes, ma’am. It’s fantastic,” I say with a smile.
Aspen beams at me, squeezing my hand under the table discreetly, although Kenny’s sharpening eyes says he knows what she’s doing. I squeeze her thigh then retake her hand. I can’t blame him, though. If I were him, I’d hire the meanest female bodyguard and make sure nobody ever got near my granddaughter.
As the conversation unfolds, I brace for a comment. My parents would definitely say something nasty and cutting, designed to embarrass me or my date—or both. But Kenny just pours more lemonade for Aspen. He and Kat ask me what classes I have with Aspen, where I grew up and so on, probably to make sure I’m not a freak. It’s obvious they love her, as they also ask her how she’s doing, how her classes are. She laughs and basks in their loving attention. There’s no shield or wall raised around them, not like at my family dinner—assuming a family dinner could even be arranged. Every time my family gets together, we all have an internal clock that ticks down the time until one of our parents makes a scene. Waiting for the drama, the insults and the tears.
Aspen is obviously in her grandparents’ innermost circle, where she’s not only safe but loved unconditionally, and they are in hers. To my shock, I find myself feeling easy as well, even though I’m just on the fringe of this warm family. And I want to belong to the special group of people who are closest with and most important to her. I want her to look at me with the same unguarded love. To know she can count on me—that I’ll always be in her corner.
The logical part of me says I’m going too fast. People don’t feel this way about others this quickly. But my heart says,Fuck off, logical part. Romeo and Juliet knew what they wanted in a fraction of a second. I don’t need a lifetime to know what I want.
“So. How is Zack doing?” Kat asks.
Zack?
“He’s doing great,” Aspen responds.
“Still working at the restaurant?”
“Yup.”
Wait. Are they talking about that annoying waiter from the Italian restaurant?
“Such a sweet boy. I miss him,” Kat says.
He’s an asshole who just wants to screw your granddaughter!
“We should invite him over when he’s in town for the holidays,” Kenny adds.
“We’ll see,” Aspen says. “He might want to visit his uncles and aunts in Denver.”
Better yet, I’ll buy him a one-way ticket to Shanghai.
“We’ll ask him later,” Kat says.
“So, Grant. How exactly did you meet Aspen?” Kenny asks. “It isn’t every day she brings somebody from school.”
The question feels kind of sudden. But I get it. He wanted me to relax, be lulled into a false sense of security, so I’d blurt out whatever came to mind. Thank God my parents trained me for this sort of ambush. I know better than to tell the truth—that I left Aspen to do the paper by herself—but I also don’t want to lie. Before I can cobble a good story together, Aspen puts down her lemonade glass.
