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“Don’t worry,” he leaned over and placed a tender kiss on my cheek, “my mom knows our taste.”
I giggled. “There better not be any plaid.”
He scoffed. “Plaid is delightful. You looked beautiful in it yesterday when you said, ‘I do.’”
I shook my head, at a loss for words. Finally, I said, “Do you think Gramps is going to be upset with us?”
When Trace had come up with the brilliant idea of getting married yesterday, I hadn’t thought at all about what Gramps would think or feel. But Gramps was dying and he deserved to be there. What we had done was selfish; there was no other word for it.
Trace’s hands tightened around the steering wheel as he pulled out of the hotel parking lot.
A musc
le in his jaw twitched and I wasn’t sure if he was going to answer me, but after a minute he said, “Yeah. He’ll be pissed. He—uh—” His gaze flicked towards me. “He told me, before we left, that he hoped we might consider getting married before,” he swallowed thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing, “before he dies.” He bit his bottom lip and I knew he was fighting tears. I reached out and placed my hand on his thigh, hoping to offer any comfort that I could.
“Well then,” I forced a smile, “I guess it’s a good thing your mom’s going to plan a ceremony for when we get back.”
“Yeah,” he nodded stiffly, turning into the parking lot of a strip mall. He parked and sat there for a moment, staring out the windshield as if he was searching for something.
After a few minutes he shook his head and got out of the car. I did the same, following him into a Verizon Store. He gave his name to one of the techs working there and then sat on a bench to wait.
“Trace—”
He shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Not talking about it doesn’t make it go away,” I whispered, rubbing a hand soothingly up and down his back.
“I know that,” he mumbled, resting his elbows on his knees and burying his face in his hands. “But I’d prefer not to think about it.”
I could understand and respect that. After what Aaron did to me, I’d preferred to push it to the back of my mind. Thinking that if I convinced myself that it hadn’t really happened then somehow that would eventually be true. It was an unhealthy way of thinking, but a coping mechanism that many clung to.
“Trace, we have to face reality. Gramps is dying. Not thinking about it doesn’t stop it from happening. We have to brace ourselves for the inevitable. I know what you’re feeling is ten times worse than what I’m feeling,” I whispered, trying not to cry. “But I love him too, Trace. He welcomed me into your family like I was of his blood. He never treated me differently or looked down at me. Not many people are as…exceptional as Gramps is.”
“Stop making me feel bad,” he mumbled, looking away from me.
I grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at me. “I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I’m just trying to get you to understand.”
“I do understand. But it’s easier not to feel,” his voice shook. “Maybe that’s weak of me, but it’s what I have to do. I need to be numb.”
I shook my head. He was being a stubborn idiot. But I didn’t want to piss him off so I shut my mouth hoping the opportunity would present itself and I could bring it up later.
A few hours later, we left the store and I was the proud new owner of the latest iPhone. My previous phone had been a cheap touchscreen that didn’t at all compare to this.
“I think I’m in love,” I gasped, playing with the settings.
Trace chuckled, starting the car. “Should I be jealous?”
“Maybe,” I smiled, setting a picture of us as my wallpaper.
“So,” he started, “I was thinking…”
“Yeah?” I prompted, when he trailed off.
“You agreed to sing with me at the bar the other night, but since…well…you know,” he growled, “that fucker pushed—”
“He didn’t push me,” I interrupted.
“Well, he might as well have,” Trace snapped. “Anyway,” he cleared his throat, softening his tone, “I thought you might sing with me tonight. There’s a coffee shop not too far from here that has live music and patrons can sign up to sing.”
