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“Granny! For the love of—”
“A gorgeous sequin dress that fits like a glove? Yes, I know. It was very meddlesome of me. But an old lady has to meddle, especially in her wonderful, favorite, and only grandson’s life—when he needs it. Because, trust me, you need it.”
I have to admit I’m about to break out the popcorn. This has been very entertaining, watching Asher and his granny go at it. It’s also a little heartbreaking—I mean it in a good way—seeing how much they love each other. Although it was slightly salty to be referred to as a small rodent multiple times and be discussed as though I’m not sitting there, with pronouns being thrown in to stand in place of my actual name, I don’t really mind it now.
“So?” Julie Louise Paris asks. “What are you going to do? Are you going to call it quits on what is, in my opinion, one of the best women you’ve ever had the privilege of going out with, or are you going to realize that affection is complicated, messy, hard, wild, sometimes sketchy, mostly great, a little heartbreaking, often disappointing, though also often not disappointing, and many other words, labels, names, conundrums, and contradictions?”
“You truly are the world’s most bizarre grandmother,” Asher sighs, but there is real affection in his tone now.
“I know. The one and only. I wouldn’t be Julie Louise Paris if I weren’t Julie Louise Paris.”
Hmm. Apparently, even Julie Louise Paris refers to herself as Julie Louise Paris. Good to know. It’s also good to know that in her absolutely crazy sort of way, she’s given us her blessing. All of a sudden, she stands up, gives Asher a grin, then sweeps out of the room and out of the house altogether.
I have to say that I’m stunned.
I haven’t even had a sip of my coffee, and some serious wisdom already went down in this room. I pick it up now, inhaling the delicious scent of dark, greasy beans. I take a sip and find it still warm. What a treat, although iced coffee is fine by me too. As long as it’s the top half. Asher’s right. I never drink the bottom bits. There never fails to be tiny grounds in the last bit, and gritty coffee has never been my thing.
“Well?” Asher arches one dark brow as he rifles a hand through his rich brown hair. “What do you have to say to that?”
Here’s the advantage of being left out of an entire conversation. At least I had time to observe and think. “I guess she’s right, maybe? There was a lot said, and I…I think it would be nice to start over, to give us a chance. I didn’t expect it, but I enjoyed our dates. Um, I enjoyed you, and I don’t mind you, which is probably the highest praise I’ve given anyone in a long time. I know my parents love you, and there are still lots of friends and family I want you to meet. Plus, if we gave up now, the media would seriously enjoy that. We’d have been really short-lived. Not that I care what they say because I don’t. And you probably don’t either. Your granny probably also doesn’t now. So that’s not really an issue. I’m just saying.”
“So you’d like to actually give it a real try? Start afresh? No bad taco dates, no meddling grannies, no opera, no backyard fences on fire, no awkward dinners, no ordering an entire dessert menu, no hacked up tables and brand new ones in pieces, no spontaneous kisses, no—”
“I kind of liked the spontaneous kisses. And the rest. I still have those desserts if you have a craving for extreme amounts of sugar for breakfast.”
“You know, I actually do. Cherry pie? Is there any of that?”
“There is, yes. And also blueberry, apple, and chocolate pies.”
“Good. That’s good,” Asher says as he slaps his jean-clad thighs. “Well, if you’re good to give this a try, then so am I. I didn’t go back to bed last night. I just stayed up and thought. Mostly about you. Well, all about you and about us. About how this past week or so has been the most adventurous one I’ve ever been on, which is saying a lot because I’ve been all over the world. Those spontaneous kisses were pretty amazing.”
“Please tell me you’ve also kissed a lot of toads. Does it work for guys that way too?”
“I have,” he replied good-naturedly. “And maybe it does. I’ve also kissed a lot of non-toads, and they still don’t hold a candle to you. You’re not a princess, you’re not a toad, and you’re not a shrew.”
“Thank god for that,” I giggle. Then, more soberly, I add, “Are you sure you’re not still mad about what happened? That you don’t doubt me? That you feel like you can trust me?”
