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“Were you asleep?”
“Yes.”
“Perks of working for yourself. You get to sleep in.”
“Ha, ha. I’ve already been to the gym.”
“And you went back to bed?”
“Indigestion,” I lied. “From the food last night.”
“Really? That sucks.”
“Yeah.”
What’s another lie to my best friend?
“So, what’s up?” I asked her, throwing the covers off me and heading to the kitchen.
“I called my grandfather back.”
“You did? When?”
“This morning,” she said. “I paced and paced around my apartment, trying to think of a reason why I should ignore him, but my curiosity was too great, so I called.”
“And?”
“He apologized for not being around when I was growing up,” she said. “I guess I appreciate the sentiment, but really, I don’t know what I missed, you know? I told him he was apologizing to the wrong person.”
“Whoa.”
“Yeah. I kind of didn’t hold back just because he’s in his eighties. I kind of let him have it.”
“Of course you did.”
“Oddly enough, my grandfather, Clinton Crawford the First, appreciated that I was a straight shooter.”
“He knows your worth.”
“Yep. Anyway, he asked me if I’d be willing to talk to my dad and see if I could convince him to speak to his father.”
“Your grandfather wants you to be the liaison?”
“Yep. Except, I don’t know how that’ll go.”
“Yeah, that’s a lot to put on you.”
“It is.” She paused. “Will you be there?”
“There? There where?”
“When I talk to Dad?”
“Are you serious? You can’t be serious.”
“I am serious,” she said. “Please, Logan. I don’t know how to navigate this. I’m not—I’m not the most delicate when it comes to these things, and I just think you’d be a calming presence.”
“Tavy…”
