“My neighbor saw him get arrested the other day after the storm passed.”
“Arrested? For what?”
“Rami?”
My grandmother’s soft voice draws me away from their conversation. Blinking rapidly, it’s then that I realize that tears have formed along my lower lashes. Words from complete strangers should mean nothing to me, and yet, I can’t deny how it affects me.
“Rami.”
This time, she wraps her warm hand around my biceps to get my full attention. I stare into those wise blue eyes, which causes a single tear to run down my cheek. Her face remains neutral, making me wonder if she either didn’t hear those women or simply doesn’t care. That makes a second tear fall. I quickly wipe them away and clear my throat to pull myself together.
“I completely forgot to get the ice cream. Would you mind going back and getting it for me?”
I dip my chin and turn quickly to do as I’m told. My eyes dart around the freezer aisle, trying to decide what brand and flavor to get. Grabbing the cherry ice cream in a brand I’ve seen her get before, I walk quickly back to her. She hates dilly-dallying around, claiming there’s always something to be done.
By the time I get back to her, she’s in the same spot I left her. I hold up the ice cream for her inspection. A beaming smile curls up her face, and she nods so I put it into the cart.
“Excellent choice,” she says in approval.
The compliment causes me to trip over the cart wheel, catching me off guard. I manage to pull myself together fast enough, my chest poking out a bit more. The joy is hard to deny with what I can only assume is a dopey grin curled up on my face.
I slide into position at her side to continue shopping. The two older ladies from earlier round a corner into another aisle. They both look up to watch Grandma Julia closely. Their faces are red, and they look away and move faster when they notice I’m watching them. Curiously, I glance over at my grandmother, who manages to school the glare on her face in the blink of an eye.
Did she defend me to those old bitties?
That’s absurd. Right?
But something tells me that’s exactly what she did. Pride blossoms in my chest like a warm blanket wrapped tightly around me.
The remainder of the shopping trip feels more like I’m walking on air. My focus fully on my grandmother, and picking up the harsh warning stares she gives anyone who glances in my direction. It feels almost as if a curtain has been pulled back to reveal true colors for the first time. And I’m basking in that sunlight.
After loading the car and bringing everything inside, I stick close to her like a magnet. She doesn’t even react to my proximity, simply works around me and puts me to work. That’s if I don’t step in and do it without prompting.
She slides me the bowl of cheesecake filling to finish whisking while she presses the graham cracker crust into the pan. A coysmirk tugs at her lips, so I copy it. It feels nice. Comfortable, even, being around her.
We work in that companionable silence while it bakes, and she makes the strawberry topping. And when she approves for me to remove it from the oven, I get to work on handwashing all the dishes and wiping down the kitchen.
Eventually she wanders off into the front room where I hear the familiar creak of her rocking chair and her rustling through her knitting bag.
The amicable day leaves me feeling lighter than I have since coming here. The domesticity of it has kept a smile plastered to my face. And I find I like it.
Something is definitely different with her. Whether that’s either me that’s changed or her. But if I’m ever going to get to Adriel, I need to put on my big boy pants and step up. Perhaps she’ll listen this time.
Because the man I love needs me.
Chapter 32
Rami's POV
“Grandma Julia?”
My voice is soft as I enter the front sitting room where she’s rocking and knitting. The soft click of her needles and squeak of her chair acting more like a balm to help ease my nerves. The familiarity of it after the day we’ve had is a pleasant reminder of how far we’ve—I’ve come.
“Hmmm?” she hums deeply.
I sit on the couch near her, though she doesn’t look up from her project. I know she’s still paying me attention. The woman is a master of multitasking.
“I would like to have a very frank conversation with you.” My tone is even, no anger or disdain dripping into my voice. I need her to know I’m trying to be rational and not petulant, as many see me. A tactic I likely should have tried before today.
