Page 144 of Fall Back Into Love


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Hold on. Lauren’s doing this for Gran. Not me. She doesn’t want a man over-committed to his job. And unfortunately, I can’t give her that. It’s what’s expected of me. I’ll take over the company when Dad retires, and my son, if I have one, will continue the legacy. It’s not only because I have an obligation. I love the chase of another sales target. I love winning another deal. I love signing a larger contract. Compiling figures and reports and accepting the challenge when profits dip. It only drives my motivation to succeed.

Lauren doesn’t get that. I enjoy what I do, even though much stress comes with it. The business is a part of me, and if I weren’t a co-director of Brooker and Son, I’d become driven about something else.

I reread the text. Do I detect an element of annoyance in her words? Has she accepted the way I am—limited availability? It’s the reason she broke off our engagement. But if it still annoys her, maybe she still has feelings for me. Or she wouldn’t give two hoots if this building collapsed on top of me.

A new message flashes on my screen.

Lauren: Gran noticed I wasn’t wearing the ring.

A drum pounds in my chest as if I drank four cups of coffee. Is she saying she’s open to wearing my ring again? For Gran? I keep it in my bedside drawer. Occasionally, I study it and get depressed. Why have I kept it? It’s not like I can pass it on to my next girlfriend. Is it because I’ll only get half the money back? I paid eight thousand, and although I’ve lost more money in shares before, I’m reluctant to part with the piece of jewelry. I shrug. Good thing I didn’t because Gran wants proof.

A crazy idea pops into my head. It’s not calculated or rational and could put my heart and world into recession.

What if I focus my drive and effort on winning the most important deal of my life? Winning Lauren back?

“She’s late.” Gran picks a piece of lint from her floral cardigan.

I pace the tiny space Gran calls a living room. I gulp at the opposite words springing to mind—death’s domain. I shake off the shiver. I need to hold on to the days we have left.

Gran’s bed, kitchenette, and living room all squeeze into one area. Guilt pinches hard. It broke my heart to see Gran move into a retirement home. She insisted on staying in Georgetown, which meant fewer options. The better of the two villages didn’t have an opening. They put us on a waiting list and said when someone “leaves,” they’d let us know—an eery chill snakes down my spine.

“Lauren’s always late. But she loves you, Gran. She’ll be here.”

Gran smiles. “I love her too. The granddaughter I never had.” She tilts her head. “I do appreciate my grandsons. But I didn’t have a daughter. Your mother and I never connected well. But your Lauren—we’re kindred spirits. She’s feisty and won’t let a man boss her around.”

“Feisty doesn’t begin to describe her.” I glance at my watch. Twenty-three minutes late. Come on. I have places to be.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and my pulse picks up speed. Focusing on tasks today was a lost cause, and now I’m behind. I caught myself staring at the clouds from my window for twenty minutes, forgetting I had a deadline.

Ten months and I should’ve moved on. But I can’t face the idea of seeing another woman. I need three years to get over Lauren. She brightened my mood every time we were together. Such enthusiasm for life. She made me get outdoors and live in the moment. But she wanted more. More of what I couldn’t give her. Time.

I slip out my cell and read Lauren’s message. I turn to my grandmother. “She’s outside waiting.”

The blue in Gran’s eyes sparkle. “Wonderful. I finally get to meet this puppy.”

“From the pictures I’ve seen, it’s not a puppy anymore.”

Gran frowns. “From the pictures?”

Oh, man. Think quick. “The ones I showed you. It’s obvious he’s a big boy now.”

Gran lowers the brake of her wheelchair. She refuses to consider an electric one. Said it would make her lazy and her muscles weak. She still has physiotherapy sessions to work her legs. The woman won’t surrender without a fight.

“You haven’t shown me any recent photos. Most of Lauren’s work.” Gran rolls herself to the door.

A part of Lauren’s job is to manage social media for Clear Creek Adventures. She posts lots of selfies with tourists. It heats my blood when a younger guy drapes his arm around her, cheek to cheek.

Gran peeks over her shoulder. “I’ll have words with Lauren about working too much. There should be photos of you together. Not good, Mason.”

“I’m busy too, so it’s fine. Don’t hassle her.” If Gran discovers the truth, she’ll skin me like a rabbit. Either that or she’ll have heart failure. Gran can’t find out, no matter what.

We make our way down the mustard-carpeted hallway. When we pass the TV viewing area, I nod at the staff and wave at other residents. Gran proudly rolls by, chin tilted in the air like a queen. Eyes follow us. It’s always this way at a retirement home. When another resident has visitors, they’re the envy of everyone else. I push that sad thought away, although it drives me to visit regularly. I can’t believe Mom quit on Gran. Would she have done the same to her own mother? Dad didn’t make time and left the responsibility to Mom, which she found frustrating. Not fair to Mom, but it’s not fair to Gran either. Gran’s right. If only she had a daughter to look after her. Looking after a mother-in-law isn’t the same.

Gran pauses and taps her fist against her chest, releasing a loud belch. “That’s better. Lemonade always does that to me.”

I glance toward the open games room where a few oldies play bingo or cards. No one pays any attention. Half of them are deaf. Part and parcel of old age—gas releases from both ends in public, and no shame about it.

I rush ahead to open the double doors for my unabashed grandmother.

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