“Wait,” he said, and then the bodies parted, and there she was. Tall and thinning with age but still strong and fiery as ever, carrying a large, canvas purse covered in gaudy flowers, travel pillow hooked around her neck, sunglasses on her face like she was going on vacation in Vegas, it was none other than Rosalie Elliot. “Nan!”
She waved a weathered hand but continued chatting with the Spryte next to her, a petite guy with magenta skin and periwinkle hair. He was pulling her wheelie bag for her, listening with rapt attention as his pastel fairy wings opened and closed lazily behind him.
“And that’s my grandson,” Bryce heard her say before she finally called, “Hi, Brycey!”
Jogging up to the gates, he gaped at her as she approached. “Nan, what in God’s name are you doing here?”
“Coming to see my favorite grandson for his birthday,” she said as she handed the Spryte her ticket. He scanned her ticket for her, and she bustled through the open gates.
The moment she was clear, Bryce swept her up in a hug, and she rubbed his back. She smelled like Bengay and rose perfume and something so inexplicably home that he instantly burst into tears.
“Oh, my boy,” she cooed, rocking him back and forth as he cried into her neck. “Come now, you haven’t missed me that much, have you?”
“I’m always missing you,” he croaked as he fought to get control of himself. “I just had no idea.”
“That’s what makes it a surprise.”
“Thank you for assisting her,” Bryce heard Zef say to the Spryte.
“It was no trouble,” he replied in a Pride accent as he offered the handle of the wheelie bag to Zef.
Without letting Bryce go, Nan waved at the Spryte. “It was nice chatting with you, Bel. Message me on the Instagram and keep me updated on your neighbor. She sounds like a hoot and a half.”
The Spryte, Bel, nodded stiffly. “Of course, Nan. Enjoy your trip with your grandson.”
Finally finished crying, Bryce released his death grip on his grandmother and fished out his handkerchief from his pocket, using it to wipe his face clean before Zef saw him covered in snot. Nan gave him a minute to compose himself and stepped toward Zef.
“Well, would you look at you,” she said, propping her sunglasses on her head so she could give Zef a onceover.
“Hello, Nan.” Zef bowed deeply, making her snort.
“Oh, none of that hullabaloo. It’s bad enough I can’t give you a hug, you don’t gotta go and start bowing like I’m royalty.” She flapped her handsat them, and they straightened. “It’s good to finally meet you in person, kiddo.”
“I am so pleased you are here. Forgive me for not meeting you in Purgatory as we planned. There were”—they shot Bryce a look—“extenuating circumstances.”
She harrumphed wordlessly, wrapping an arm around Bryce’s waist as he circled her shoulders with his arm.
“You two planned this?” Bryce asked.
“It was Zef’s idea, but I’ll happily take some credit,” she said smugly, patting his side.
Stunned, Bryce turned to Zef, and their antennas trembled as they said, “I know you miss your family. I thought you would like Nan here for your birthday.”
Tears burned his eyes anew. “And you expect me not to hug you after that?”
“Yes,” they said sternly, softening the quasi-rejection with a smile. Then they extended their lower hand in offering, and Bryce took it, squeezing their fingers firmly.
“Thank you, Zef.”
“You are most welcome, Bryce.”
Gaze ping-ponging between them, Nan narrowed her eyes, but before she could comment, Bryce said, “I told Zef that I liked them.”
“Ah, that explains the extenuating circumstances.”
“Nan, you knew too?” Zef asked, and she nodded unabashedly. “Did everyone know except me? Tad was entirely unsurprised.”
“You told Tad?” Bryce checked their surroundings to make sure the Anura wasn’t about to jump him from the shadows. “Great, now she’s gonna murder me.”
