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“I mean, I don’t want to fight about it. Your idea, my idea, it’s all the same.”
She watches me before nodding. She shifts in her seat and turns her attention to her brother and best friend, who are gearing up to open their shower gifts. “Except it was my idea.”
“Whatever you say, idea thief.”
That’s when I get whacked on the arm. A bubble of laughter slides from my mouth as I look her way. She’s grinning too, and it takes everything I have not to pull her into my arms and kiss her. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’ve never wanted to kiss someone more than I want to kiss her, and the fact I shouldn’t—mostly because we haven’t outlined our relationship status or lack thereof to anyone—makes me want to do it that much more.
All I know is when we’re alone later, I’m definitely laying one on her. I’m going to kiss her with an entire day’s worth of pent-up frustration, and even then, it won’t be enough.
It may never be enough.
On a Wednesday in mid-November, the bell sounds over the door, but since I’m in the middle of mixing paint, I keep my eyes focused on the task at hand.
“There’s my favorite grandson.”
I grin. “I’m your only grandson,” I tell Gram, glancing up quickly before reaching for the paint can lid and hammering it back into place. Once the gallon is placed in the shaker, I give her my full attention. “To what do I owe this wonderful visit?”
“Well, I was in the neighborhood and wanted to drop this off to you,” she says, holding out a small white bag with green tissue paper sticking out of the top.
“I’ll be finished here in a few minutes. Wanna go wait in my office?” I suggest, hoping she takes my suggestion and goes to have a seat.
“I’m fine here. I’m not old,” she counters, leaning against the shelving unit holding the different varieties of paint.
“No one said you were old,” I reply, winking at Victor Houston, who is waiting for the paint.
“That’s good. I’d have to set them straight,” Gram retorts, making Victor smile.
I finish mixing the paint before pulling it from the machine and popping off the lid once more. Once we confirm it’s the correct color, I replace the lid and carry the gallon to the front counter. “Need a stir stick?”
“Nope, still got the last one,” Victor replies, pulling his credit card from his wallet.
I ring him up and send him on his way to finish their bathroom project. When the bell chimes again, I lean on the counter and give Gram my full attention. “What’s up?”
She places the bag on the counter and smiles. “I know you don’t know what you’re having yet, but I saw this and had to get it.”
“I can wait to open it when I get home,” I reply, feeling bad to open a gift without Hallie.
“You will do no such thing. She’ll have lots of gifts to open at her shower. This one is for you.”
I pull the green cloth from the bag and open it up. I instantly laugh when I read what the onesie says. Across the front says “You got this, Daddy” with arrows pointing to indicate the two arm holes, neck hole, holes for both legs, and one for the snaps. “You have a lot of faith in me.”
She grins widely. “I’m teasing, but it was too cute to pass up. And it’s green, since you don’t know the sex of the baby.”
“We’re going to wait until the birth,” I confirm, slipping the onesie back into the bag.
“Good. It’s the best kind of surprise. You know, when I had your father, we didn’t have all this fancy technology to help determine the sex of the baby.”
“That was back when they used horse-drawn carriages for transportation, right?”
“You shit,” she barks out, laughing at my comment. “You better behave.”
I chuckle. “Sorry, couldn’t resist.”
“What are you doing for dinner? I’m making lasagna. You can bring that pretty roommate of yours over after work. There’s more than enough.”
“I don’t think we have plans. We can do that.”
“Good. Dinner’s at six but come a little early. You’re setting the table.”
