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“And today,” I say, “my grandmother is alive.”
“She is,” Brendan says. “And we’ll deal with that. But your life hasn’t changed.”
“How can you say that?”
“You know something you didn’t know before. Your father is a half-sibling to your uncles and aunt. But he always was. You always were who you are. Nothing has changed.”
I rise then. “I’m going out.”
“Where?”
“Where do you think? I’m driving to Grand Junction. To visit my grandmother.”
“Not until you eat something,” Brendan says.
“Fine. I’ll grab something on the way.”
“I’m going with you.”
“You have to get back to the bar.”
He grips my shoulders. “Damn it, Ava! You’re more important to me than any bar.”
“Brendan…this isn’t something you can do for me.” I swat Brendan’s hands away and grab my jacket. “I have to go. Alone.”
“Hell no, you’re not going alone.”
“The woman’s unconscious. And she’s an octogenarian. I’ll be fine. Besides, what other time do I have? I have to open the bakery in the morning.”
“Will they even let you see her at this time of night?” Brendan asks.
“I can go with her,” Brock says. “My mom is a big deal at that hospital, and the Steels are major donors to the foundation. All Ava and I need to do is drop our name. But if you don’t want her going alone—and I understand—I’ll go. I just need to text Rory.”
Brendan sighs. “All right. But you call me as soon as you get home, all right? And you”—he turns to Brock—“take fucking good care of her and see that she gets something in her stomach.” Then he kisses my lips. “I love you,” he whispers.
I move my lips to his ear. “I love you too. Thank you for understanding.”
“How about a taco?” Brock asks me once we’re in the car. “That new Taco Bell at the edge of town is open until midnight.”
“The dining room? Or the drive-thru?”
“It’s only eight o’clock, so the dining room is still open. We can use the drive-thru, but tacos are a mess to eat in the car.”
“Fine.” I sigh. “I’ll choke down a taco.”
“Two,” Brock says. “One taco isn’t enough for a small child.”
“My God… You’re going to report back to Brendan, aren’t you?”
“Guilty.” He grins. “Look, cuz. That man looks at you the way I look at Rory, and I’d fucking kill anyone who didn’t take care of her.”
Despite everything going on, I can’t help a slight smile.
“So he loves you.” Brock pulls into the Taco Bell parking lot.
“Yeah.”
“And is the feeling mutual?”
My cheeks warm.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
“Take what as a yes?”
“The blush. You’ve been pale as a ghost all evening, Ava. The mention of Brendan loving you finally put some color back into those cheeks.”
He puts the car in park, and we go into the restaurant. It’s surprisingly busy for a weeknight on the edge of a small town, but we don’t have to wait too long to put in our order.
“Six tacos,” Brock says. “What’ll you have, Ava?”
“Six tacos?” I say.
“They’re not that big. And I had a light dinner.” He turns back to the cashier. “My cousin will have three.”
“Two,” I say.
“Three,” he repeats. “And two fountain drinks. Oh, and one order of those churro things.”
“Cinnamon twists?” the cashier asks.
“Yeah, whatever. An order of those. You want any, Ava?”
“Uh…no. Thanks.”
Brock taps his credit card on the reader and glances over his shoulder. “There’s a table in the back. Why don’t you snag it while I wait for the order?”
“Okay.”
“What do you want to drink?”
“Just water.”
“I paid for a fountain drink, Ave.”
“For God’s sake. So what?” Then I berate myself. I may not use my family’s money, but I don’t want it wasted. Even the few cents for a soda. “Diet Coke.”
“They don’t have Coke products.”
“Pepsi, then. I don’t care.”
“You got it.”
I head to the table Brock gestured to and take a seat. A few crumbs are scattered on top. Great. Something about fast-food places always makes me want to bathe in hand sanitizer. My bakery is always spotless. I get perfect scores on all my reports from the Department of Health. No one will ever find a crumb on one of my tables. Maya wipes them down a millisecond after a customer gets up.
Makes me wonder if the newfound crumbs of my family history will ever be wiped from my mind. If only I had a Maya inside my head brushing away all the unpleasantness.
Brock returns with our order. I grab a taco and a packet of sauce.
“Which drink is mine?”
“Doesn’t matter. They’re both Diet Pepsi.” He grabs one and shoves in a straw.
I open the sauce packet and squeeze it onto my taco. Then, against my better judgment, I take a bite.
Brock lifts his eyebrows at me as I chew and swallow.
It’s good. What is it about tacos? You can be feeling like complete crap and a taco will still taste good.
