“Hey.” I hesitate. I don’t want to fuck up. I clap a hand on his shoulder. “We all have ups and downs. We’re a team. Whatever decisions you make, we got your back, man.”
He goes very still. “Uh… thanks.”
I pat his shoulder once more, then leave.
29
AYLA
Grandpa is at the restaurant today. So I’m going to tell him my plans.
I find him at the bar, laughing with two customers, a glass of Pepsi in his hand. I get myself one, then lean on the bar next to him, smiling at Mr. Martin, who’s talking.
“At my age, getting lucky means walking into a room and remembering why I went there.”
“Yeah,” Grandpa says. “Not only is my short-term memory bad, but so is my short-term memory.”
I laugh.
“I remember when I could remember things,” Mr. Cohen says sadly.
“You men are all sharp as a chef’s knife,” I tell them.
“Well. I must go.” Mr. Martin drains his glass and sets it on the bar.
The two gentlemen take their leave.
I turn to Grandpa. “Can I talk to you about something?”
“Sure, honey.” He doesn’t move.
“Maybe in your office?”
“Oh. It’s serious, is it?”
I smile. “Don’t worry, nobody’s dying.”
“Well, that’s good.” He leads the way to his tiny office at the back of the building. “What’s on your mind?”
“Carson and I are trying to work things out.”
His eyes brighten and a grin splits his face. “That’s good news!”
“Yes. We’re working on some issues.”
“You know I really like that man. Seeing you together at the birthday party was good for my old heart.”
“Nonna and Rachel apparently had a plan.”
“I know.”
“Oh my God.” I shake my head. “Did everyone know?”
“No. Some people can’t be trusted.”
I cover my mouth with my fingers to stop my smile.
“So he’s moved home with you.”
