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"You’re only as old as you think you are. And you’re only young once." She looks between us again. "Know what I mean?" She addresses her question to me.
"Um, not really?" I admit.
"Your declarations of love and the way you two kissed have convinced me we need to set a date."
"A date?" Goldie exclaims.
Grams nods. "Surely, you two must have discussed a wedding date?"
"A wedding date…" I pale, then reach for my glass of water and drain it.
"Isn’t that the logical next step, or am I missing something?" Grams frowns.
"It is the logical next step, but to be honest, we hadn’t discussed it yet."
"Not at all," Goldie adds.
"You don’t know when you’re getting married?" Grams’ lips turn down.
"First, you need to take care of your surgery," I say gently.
Her shoulders hunch, and for a second, my usually confident Grams looks uncertain. Then, she seems to get ahold of herself and fixes me with a shrewd look. "So, if I get the surgery, the two of you will get married?"
"You told me if I found a woman and settled down, you’d schedule the surgery,” I remind her.
"I should be the one nagging you," she says with a small smile.
"We can nag each other; it’s allowed." I reach over with my free arm and take her hand in mine. Her fingers are slim, the skin paper thin. I’m struck anew with how fragile she seems. She’s always had this larger-than-life image in my mind. As a child who spent summers with her in London, I was very influenced by Grams’ resilience and zest for life. When my grandfather died, she was only fifty, but she didn’t let that get to her. She grieved, then moved on, even managing to have a couple of relationships—not to replace her husband, but so she could make the most of the present. That's always been her philosophy—stay engaged and always make the most of the moment. For her to show apprehension tells me how much she’s been trying to put up a brave front.
"You’re not alone Grams, you know? You have me." I squeeze her fingers.
"And me.” Goldie says softly. “I can only imagine how scary it must be to think of going through something like this on your own. But we’re here for you Grams."
Grams’ eyes shine with unshed tears.
She reaches for the glass of gin and tonic that’s been placed next to her plate and takes a long drink from it. When she places it on the table, she seems steadier. "Thanks, dear." She holds out her free hand to Goldie, who doesn’t hesitate to take it. Goldie squeezes my hand while holding onto Grams’.
"I’ll talk to Dr. Kincaid and arrange a date for the operation.”
"Why don’t you let me—" I begin, but she scoffs.
"I may be old, but I’m not dead yet. I can arrange for my own procedure."
"But you’ll let us know when, so we can be there for you?" Goldie asks.
A cunning look comes into Grams’ eyes. "If you let me know what the date is for your wedding."
35
Gio
"We’re not in love or getting married. And we’re certainly not setting a date. How did we even get here?" I spin around on my sock-clad feet and glare at the alphahole sprawled out on the bed. We’re back in our room in the shared house.
After that pronouncement, Grams didn't seem bothered when neither of us were able to assure her we’d set a date soon. Rick, however, managed to extract a promise from her that she’d tell us when she was going in for the surgery so we could be there with her.
After that, Grams seemed to tire. She didn’t push further about us setting a date for our wedding. We got through the rest of the meal, with Rick updating her about the London Ice Kings and the upcoming exhibition matches against the Islington Sentinels—Dennis’ team.
We exchanged glances when he mentioned the team name, but neither of us brought up Dennis. Not during dinner and not on the trip home, during which we were both silent. The meal was delicious, and despite my strictly regimented diet, I wasn't able to resist the sticky toffee pudding—a dessert I never had before. But it looked and smelled delicious, and before I knew it, I’d inhaled a couple of mouthfuls. Then, Grams coaxed me into eating some more, and before I knew it, I’d wiped my plate clean. And instantly, I felt guilty.
