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Screw it.
I stand and stuff my feet into my slippers, then grab my long, fuzzy robe.
I’ll just tell him to his face.
It’s only eleven.
I can be there and back in an hour and a half. Say what I need to say, let him send me packing, and then go home and get a good night’s sleep before it’s back to wrangling this strange situation I’m in with Clara tomorrow.
I go flapping down the stairs in my robe and slippers.
Pants? Who needs them?
As I swing past the kitchen, though, Gran blinks up at me, looking up from rolling her dough into a lump for morning. Dusting her hands off, she leans out the kitchen door.
“Elle, dear? You’re going out this late?”
“Just running over to August’s,” I call back, belting my robe shut as I head for the door. “You know. Have to keep up the game.”
After picking up a damp rag and wiping her fingers off, Gran follows me.
“Is it just a game, love?” she asks, watching me with concern. “Or is he playing games with you?”
I stop with my hand on the doorknob and slowly let it fall, turning to face her with a smile.
I don’t know why I suddenly need to see August now, but it can wait a few more minutes when Grandma Jackie’s looking at me that way.
“He’s not. I promise you he’s not.”
“Good.” She reaches up to cup my cheek with damp fingers. “Be careful with your heart, dear. It’s a shiny thing, but enough dirt can dull its light.”
“Poetic, Gran.” Smiling, I lean into her touch. “Actually, I don’t know what I’m doing. But I’ll be a little careful.”
“And a lot reckless, because you live your life out loud, and I wouldn’t have you any other way.” Her eyes glitter with good humor. “I love you, my dearest granddaughter.”
“Love you so much, Gran.” I pull her into a hug, squeezing her tight before letting go. “If I’m lucky, I’ll drag him back here for breakfast in the morning.” I swipe her keys from the hook by the door. “I’m taking the Audi!” I call as I pull the door open and race outside.
“Drive safe!” drifts after me before she pulls the door shut, laughing.
I tuck myself behind the wheel and back out into the road, pointing the Audi toward Alki Beach and August’s house. Suddenly, I’m not in such a hurry, and not just because I’m going for my Safe Driver merit badge.
I still don’t know just what to say.
But since I’m on the way, I might as well go through with this crazy impulse.
I try practicing on the drive, muttering to myself beneath the flicker of golden streetlights. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m not trying to come between you and, uh ... Charisma’s ghost?” No—crap, that sounds dumb. Um. “I’m sorry I made too much out of casual sex? I know you don’t really like me, you’re just paying”—ah, crap. Now I sound like a hooker. Wait. Am I a hooker?
My reflection in the rearview mirror doesn’t answer.
Anyway.
Before I know it, I’m turning onto the quiet private street running parallel with the beach. I’m way too close to his comfy house with my brain blanking, but I’m here and parking and now I’ve got to face this.
We’ll start with I’m sorry and see what happens next.
The cold hits me as I step out of the car. I linger next to his G80 for a moment, shivering in my robe.
Would a pair of jeans have killed me?
