Page 96 of Level Up for Love

Chapter

Twenty-Seven

“I’m glad you could join us for a quick breakfast, Reagan,” Wesley’s Grandma Lynn coos, and after my first bite of her homemade biscuits, I almost wish I’d come sooner after all.

Despite the delicious food, the difference between visiting Wesley’s grandparents and the evening I had with my family is like night and day.

It was easier to leave Mom’s than Mona first suspected. Her invite list grows with every year that passes—just the way she likes it—and this year, our stepdad, David, invited more of his family from New Jersey to visit. Mona and I were left squished together on the corner of the couch, smirking at each other over our glasses of wine, as Mom watched over her crowded living room with stars in her eyes.

She was so preoccupied with hosting that I’m not sure she even noticed when we slipped out that evening. Even if she had, I know she would have been grateful. It was easier for us to head out—me to my apartment, and Mona to Shay’s—anyway; our childhood rooms had become the kids’ almost as soon as we’d moved out, and with so many people in town, Mom would have been hard-pressed to find us a spot to sleep.

When I pulled into Lynn and Stuart’s driveway this morning, I was immediately struck by how comparatively calm everything was. They live in a small blue house with a perfectly manicured yard, so unlike the flower beds my mom lets run wild.

The first thing that hit me when I walked in was the cloying waxy smell that comes from burning too many candles. It clings to everything in the house: the gray-green sofa, the quilted throw blankets, the lacy curtains that flutter at every window. Otherwise, their home is cozy, and I find myself wondering which room is Wesley’s and whether they’ve kept it up for him. But rather than giving a tour, Lynn quickly ushers me into the dining room instead, guiding me toward the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

“So sweet of you to stop by,” Lynn continues. “We haven’t had the pleasure of meeting any of Wesley’s friends since he got back from Boston.”

No pressure.

“Thanks for having me,” I say.

Wesley’s not helping with this conversation. I don’t know if he’s just recovering from all the food he ate yesterday or if he hasn’t had enough coffee yet, but he’s been unusually quiet, only occasionally butting in to add context or agree with something his grandparents say.

But the way his eyes had softened with relief when he greeted me on the doorstep—he could stay silent for the whole meal, and the trip still would have been worth it.

“What do you do for work, Reagan?” Stuart asks as he spears a cantaloupe cube.

“I’m a programmer for a local health-care system. It’s mostly remote, but it keeps me busy.”

Lynn’s eyebrows bounce upward just as Wesley’s lower moodily. I’m immediately aware that I’ve somehow misstepped.

“Wo-ow. Very cool,” Lynn says, humming. “You wouldn’t happen to be hiring, would you?” She chuckles and jostles Wesley’s elbow with hers, as if he’s in on the joke. But he doesn’t laugh. He just stares into the milky depths of his coffee mug.

I’m annoyed, so, despite Lynn’s hospitality, I can’t help but opt for snark. “Why, are you looking for a job?”

Lynn looks mildly exasperated. “No, but this one is.”

“He’s not,” I say—not a job like mine, anyway—at the same time that Wesley grunts, “I’m not.”

Lynn looks between us skeptically. “Remind me again how you two met?”

“College,” Wesley says.

But I take it a step further. I shouldn’t want to antagonize Wesley’s grandma as much as I do in this moment, but I’ve got too much momentum now. “We were in the same game design program.”

Lynn presses her thin lips into a line. “Well, that’s all well and good, but did you go off and join one of those studios?”

“I didn’t.”

“So wouldn’t you feel better if he settled down? Like you have?” She looks between us meaningfully, and her implication is clear. Wesley opens his mouth to correct her, but I put a hand on his wrist to still him. I’m too caught up on her other assumption to even begin untangling that.

Like you have.

“Do you have any idea how talented your grandson is?” I ask quietly. “How much I looked up to him in college? How much we all did?” I pause to take a slow sip of my coffee, though I don’t drop my eyes from Lynn’s stunned face. “He’s got, like, an entire page dedicated to him on the recruitment website for the game design program.” Maybe I’d never gone so far as to scroll through his social media profiles after graduation, but I’d sometimes visit that page, if only to see what new projects he was working on. “I don’t regret any of the choices I’ve made, or the fact that I never went on to work in games, but you have to understand that we all considered Wesley to be the best of us. Still do.”

Stuart has lowered his gaze to study his plate intently, though he’s all but licked it clean. Lynn’s jaw is set tight, and she adjusts where her glasses are sitting on her nose before returning her eyes to mine. “It doesn’t say much for that program of yours if the best of you has been out of steady work for months,” she says with a sniff.

I’m about to see how far I can throw this biscuit when Wesley gently lays two fingers on my wrist. “We should head out,” he says. “It’s a long drive.”