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She gives a shrug. “What? I’m right. You know I’m right. What’s stopping her?”
I think back over the conversation I had with Charlie by the champagne fountain. Wanting to find a balance between respecting Charlie’s privacy and sticking up for her, I give up some information. “You know Charlie was widowed and lost a fiancée before that. It was very hard for her, to lose her husband after being married for such a short time. She’s having a difficult time moving on.”
“Pfft!” My grandmother dismisses my words with a wave of her hand. “Nonsense. She’s just scared, that’s all. You know what they say, stop focusing on what could go wrong and dream of what could go right.”
“True, true,” I say, lifting a berry from the tray.
“And what about you, sweetheart? Have you had any luck in love recently?” She eyes me suspiciously. “People talk, you know. They’ve seen you and Cannon together.”
The strawberry gets lodged in my throat. I give a cough. “He’s my boss.”
“Hmm… my boss never swept me away on a last-minute trip across the world.”
“Well, you worked at the pharmacy. I work at Fire.”
She gives a naughty wiggle of her brow. “You’re working overtime. That’s what I heard.”
“Please, Nonna. Let’s speak of something else.” I hide my face in my hand, wrapping my fingers around my forehead.
“Of course, of course, sweetheart.” She pats my hand. “So, you know Carlos, he’s single. And only five years younger than me. Cute as a button too. Booker’s my wingman. A real cupid, that one. He’s going to spread a little hot sauce on the tamale of love for me, help me make my own love connection.”
“You and Carlos?” I can’t picture my grandmother dating, but I never imagined myself working at a kink club, either. I want to be supportive. “Could be a match.”
“We’ll see, we’ll see.” She turns her focus back on me. “Just promise me you won’t follow in your mother’s footsteps.”
I’d so rather be talking about her and Carlos. I shift my weight in my chair, uncomfortable by the turn in the conversation. “That’s exactly what I’m trying not to do. Why do you think I don’t date?”
“You misunderstand me,tesoro.I don’t mean for you to be afraid to love. I mean, don’t make the mistake your mother made of not realizing that you have everything you need to be happy, right here in front of you.” She gives my hand a squeeze. “Everything you need, love, happiness, work, it’s all right here. You’ve been blessed, my child.”
“Nonna…”
Her soft tone turns to a mumble. “Blessed by a man who might take after his namesake and explode if you don’t open your eyes and see what’s right in front of you, my dear.”
Oh my. “I’ll try to keep my eyes open, I promise.”
“That’s all I ask. Don’t be afraid of what could go wrong, of how you’ll react. Know that you are full of love to give and if you find the one who’s worthy, lavish them with your love.”
Thank God Booker chooses this moment to approach us. I don’t think I can handle much more heavy conversation on a topic I’m so confused by.
“Sorry, Miss Kylie,” Booker says. “Can I steal Ouma away for a moment? The chef wants her to show him how to make the perfect bread with wine and sugar.”
“I did promise him, didn’t I?” Nonna rises from her chair. Booker takes her arm to help her.
Booker gives me a parting nod. “Good day, Miss Kylie, and oh — Cannon has something he needs to discuss with you. He asked if you could meet him at his house.”
“Sure.” I stand, wanting to clear the dishes away, but it’s not my job and as strange as it feels to leave them on the table, I do. I hum as I walk toward the guesthouse. Cannon probably wants to sign off on the final decision for the floral arrangements for Extravagance, the annual party Fire hosts where tickets must be purchased for an extravagant fee, the proceeds going to a local charity.
I’ve gone with fresh roses sprayed with black acrylic paint, the ends of their leaves and petals then brushed with a pewter silver. I hope he likes them. My humming evolves into singing at the thought of the party. It’s going to be an epic night.
I open the door to find Cannon standing in the foyer, his arms crossed over his chest, storm clouds brewing in his dark eyes. He must be having some staffing issues. Nothing makes him grumpy except for staffing issues.
“Booker said you wanted to meet,” I say, closing the door behind me. “What’s going on?”
He narrows his gaze, the hard look in his eyes making the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. “You have something you want to tell me, babygirl?”
Those storm clouds are directed at… me?
I rack my brain, trying to think of what he could be upset about. “No, no, I don’t think so. Why?”
