Page 86 of Long Story Short

I mull over his words for a moment while the memory of what Tyson said last night pops into my mind. “With him, it just feels easy. Things are new, and I don’t want to get ahead of myself, because it feels too soon to say any of this, but I can’t help it. It just feels easy…it’s scary to say it out loud, but it just feels like I met him for a reason.”

My words make Pop smile. He crosses his hands over his stomach and watches me for a moment with a thoughtful expression. “That’s how it’s supposed to feel.” He pauses, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them to meet my stare again. “I knew with your grandmother after the first day I met her.”

I still, his words hitting me right in the chest because maybe I don’t sound too crazy saying things feel right with Tyson after only knowing him for a couple of weeks.

“I didn’t know everything,” he continues. “But I knew enough. That first day, I knew we were meant to be.”

I glance toward the chair she always used to sit in without meaning to. He follows my gaze before looking back at me through misty eyes, finding me already staring back at him.

“With her, even the hardest things were easy.” His voice gets thick, and it makes my eyes immediately mist over. Even after she’s gone, their love is still so powerful. It’s the reason I write love stories.

Pop clears his throat—never one to love showing emotion. “That’s how you know it matters.”

The words linger between us. I know he means well by them—and they are a relief—but they’re also overwhelming in a way I don’t want to think too deeply into.

I nod, not trusting myself to say anything.

Luckily, he changes the subject as we finish dinner. Conversation shifts to lighter things, stories I’ve heard a hundred times but still love to hear him tell anyway.

He’s deep into a story about going snorkeling with Nan when he reaches for his wine glass. Right in the middle of pulling it to his mouth, his hand shakes, and the glass falls.

“Shit,” he curses, righting the wine glass on the table. I stand up to help him, but Heather rushes in before I can get around the table to help clean up the spill.

“Everything okay?” I ask, noticing how Pop keeps opening and shutting his eyes.

He nods. “Just getting old,” he jokes, but I don’t laugh.

Something about it isn’t funny. He seems different right now, like he isn’t completely with me. His hands still shake, but he tries to hide them in his lap so I don’t see.

“Have you been sleeping okay?” I ask, wondering if maybe he’s just tired.

He nods. “Always.”

“Eating?”

His eyebrows furrow. “Josie.”

“What?”

He forces a smile, but there’s something about his demeanor that’s changed. “I’m fine, sweetheart.”

I hold his gaze, trying to decide if I believe him. Or maybe I’m trying to convince myself that I do when my intuition is telling me something completely different.

My eyes move to Nan’s empty chair. It’s still untouched. Still hers.

And it hits hard that he’s been alone in this world without her. And one day, I’ll be alone in this world without both of them.

I look back at my grandfather, hoping maybe he is just tired or the wine spill really was just a silly mistake. “Okay,” I say, not wanting to pay any attention to the intrusive thoughts filling my mind.

For the rest of dinner, I let it go. I smile and listen when he talks and laugh when he’s being completely grouchy.

But something lingers at the back of my mind the entire time. It’s quiet, but there.

Unsettling.

And impossible to ignore, even as I lie in bed that night, my mind replaying dinner and whether everything’s okay with Pop.

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