Nan hoots.Hoots.She’s as happy as a clam—I can’t believe it. I haven’t seen her like this since before her fall. “Oh, I like you far more than the last one.”
“Nan,” I say, hoping to sidestep the subject of my ex. “It’s not like that.”
Charlie grins at me like a jungle cat. “Not yet.”
Now she claps.
“Don’t encourage him,” I tell her, but I love seeing her happy. And I suspect Charlie’s leaning into it, flirting to put on a show. It’s a very believable act.
He tilts forward and whispers to Nan, “So what was wrong with the last one?”
“He was a real dud,” she says. “So serious and fussy. I never once saw Alice laugh when they were together.”
“Nan, please.”
“It’s true,” she says to Charlie. “Dull as a chalkboard. Alice helped him with his business, and he had the nerve to break up with her.” I shut my eyes for only a second, just long enough to keep it together in front of Charlie.
I don’t know how to make you happy, Alice. Do you?
“I’m sorry,” Charlie says softly.
“There’s nothing to be sorry about.” I stand, smoothing my hands over the front of my shorts. “How do you take your tea?”
“I don’t,” Charlie says.
“Pardon?”
“I don’t drink tea,” he clarifies.
Nan scoffs. “Everyone drinks tea.”
Charlie turns to her. “How should I take it, then?”
For all his joking, I appreciate that he doesn’t speak to Nan like she’s a delicate old lady or a child.
“Sweet tooth?” Nan asks him.
“Not with this body.”
“Just with a splash of milk, then.”
Charlie turns back to me. “I’ll take it with a splash of milk, thanks.”
I retreat to the kitchen, a Trevor-shaped headache pushing against my temples.
“But don’t I makeyouhappy?” I asked just before Trevor walked out.
He’d given me a sad smile and kissed my cheek. “I think you really tried.”
I thought Trevor was the one. But now he’s engaged to a pediatric nurse named Astilbe, and I’m left facing the possibility that the only person I’ll spend my life with is me.
Over and over, I keep falling. Over and over, I keep getting my heart broken. Everlasting love may have existed for my grandmother’s generation, but I’m beginning to think it’s amodern myth. Heather’s divorced. My parents are, too. They pulled the plug on their marriage three years ago, right after the twins left home. I held out hope that the separation was temporary until the very end, when the divorce was finalized, and Mom changed her last name. She’s Michelle Dale once more.
I blink away the tears and bring out the tea and cake.
“I imagine sabbaticals aren’t common in your line of work,” Nan says to Charlie as I hand him a cup. It looks like a dollhouse accessory in his hand.
I take a seat, noticing that he straightens slightly, like he’s zipping himself together.
