“You should want to tell people you’re getting married,” he said.
“I do want to tell people, but I’d like a moment to catch my breath, you know?”
He shrugged.
I peered at him. “Okay, what’s up?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you’re acting kind of funny.”
Grampy leaned back against his chair. “These muffins look good.”
“Grampy.”
“You were right. About Brooks.”
I blinked. “Oh. Yeah, I know.”
He nodded. “He didn’t want to wait til spring to marry you.”
“It was his idea all along to wait until spring.”
He ripped off the muffin top and took a bite.
“Oh my God.” I gasped. “You both played me! Didn’t you?”
He swallowed. “Don’t know what you’re talking about. Eat your muffin.”
“Forget the muffin! Brooks wanted to get married sooner rather than later, so you played good cop bad cop, didn’t you?”
A slow smile crept across his face. “How’d we do?”
“Evil.” I shook my head and let out a surprised laugh. “How did I not see that?”
“Well, you had a lot on your mind. Naturally. Besides, you don’t really want to wait until you’re what, seven months pregnant to get married, do you? You’ll want to be relaxing. Nesting. Weddings are stressful.”
“Yeah, and now you want me to plan one while I’m in the middle of opening a bookstore. Because that’s a good idea.”
“You’ll have help,” he assured me. “For both those things.”
My head whirled. “You pulled a fast one over me, didn’t you, Grampy?”
“I’ve got some tricks up these old sleeves,” he assured me.
“You sure do.” I chuckled. “So did you sleep okay?”
“Hmm? Oh. I slept fine. Jet lag, you know. I conked out fast. After the places I’ve slept, a couch is just fine.”
“Glad to hear it.” I finally plucked a piece of the muffin top off and took a bite. “You and Muddy make peace?”
He paused and then nodded.
“Good. That would make me feel terrible if you two were at odds.”
“We’re not at odds,” he assured me. “Poet.”
“Grampy.”
