I brace myself for whatever he wants to say to me, which I’m guessing is something along the lines of regretting almost kissing me, and saying he just wants to be friends.
“What are you doing next Saturday?” he asks. “Will the shop be open by then?”
“Not yet,” I tell him, a little surprised. “I guess I was just planning to keep getting organized.”
“Well, if you can get away, there’s a whole day of holiday activities in town,” he says. “It’s called the Angel Mountain Christmas Mingle.”
“Oh, right,” I say. “I’ve seen a few signs around town. It looks like fun.”
“Would you want to go together?” he asks. “It might be a good way to meet a bunch of people and just get a sense of the town.”
“You already know everyone,” I state the obvious.
“Pretty much,” he agrees.
“With Meg?” I ask, then feel silly about it. I don’t need a ten-year-old chaperone to feel comfortable. But it sounds like the kind of day a kid would love.
“Of course,” he says, smiling again so that his eyes crinkle at the edges. “With Meg.”
“Definitely,” I tell him.
“Great,” he says. “It’s a date. I’m gonna go help Liam out now.”
A date?
“Of course,” I tell him. “See you tomorrow.”
He nods and there’s this tiny pause. I wonder if he’s thinking about grabbing me close and kissing me, like I want him to.
But he heads for the door and I just watch after him for a moment.
He just asked me out, even if his daughter is coming along. We’re going to spend the day together.
He said it was a date. Maybe he just meant it like it’s on his calendar. But looking back over tonight, I’m pretty sure he meant date as indate.
It’s a lot. And I should feel nervous about it, or maybe I should even have cold feet.
Instead, I feel like I’m walking on air.
As I’m staring at the door to the bookshop and wondering what on earth is going on in my aching heart, my phone buzzes in my pocket.
I pull it out and look at the screen to see my grandmother’s contact photo.
I tried her earlier today, and I’m really glad she’s calling back. I know she stays busy and she has a whole crew looking out for her, but I worry a little bit anyway when she doesn’t call me back right away.
“Hey, Grammy,” I say, tucking the phone against my ear. “How are you?”
“Oh, I’m happy as a clam now that I’m talking with you,” she says, her voice the same sweet, husky sound its always been.
“Me too,” I tell her, meaning it. “Is PopPop right there?”
“No, ma’am,” she says with a chuckle in her voice. “The boys are out at the movies.”
The retirement community where my grandparents live has everything—golf, shopping, even a movie theater. Grammy says it’s like living at the mall. Andthe boysare PopPop’s silver-haired crew of friends.
“That’s great,” I tell her. “What are they seeing?”
“I believe it’sThe Good, the Bad and the Ugly,”she tells me.
