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“It’s not like you have to be worried that’s going to happen anytime soon anyway,” I advised. “I’m not even in a relationship with anyone.”
There was a brief moment of silence before she said, “That’s the one thing I still can’t manage to wrap my head around. How is it possible someone hasn’t already scooped you up?”
I didn’t dare mention the turmoil I was currently in with Wyatt. Granted, just because he was the first person to pop into my head the second those words came out of my grandmother’s mouth didn’t mean I believed he was someone who should or would have scooped me up. I’d learned my lesson once already when it came to men like him.
But I’d have been lying if I didn’t at least admit to myself that being around him every weekday morning for just over a week now was starting to take its toll on me. I’d been waiting for something to happen. Anything.
It never did.
And perhaps that was the game he was playing. He could continue to just show up and run with me every morning and get me to the point where he’d have me begging him to fess up to whatever his ultimate plan was.
Maybe he wanted to make me out to be the bad guy.
I didn’t know. And at this point, it was probably for the best that I kept the truth of his existence in my life hidden from my family. They’d assume the worst—just like I already was—and I didn’t want that for them after all we’d endured over the last two years.
So, instead of sharing anything unnecessary with her, I simply figured it was best to respond to my grandmother in a way that indicated I agreed wholeheartedly with her sentiment. “Your guess is as good as mine,” I mumbled. “I am pretty fantastic, aren’t I?
“That you are.”
A few minutes later, we arrived at the community center bingo hall, and we went about grabbing our bingo boards before sitting down in grandma’s favorite spot with some of the other ladies and pulling out our daubers.
We had arrived a bit early, so we had time to visit with the women sitting at the same table as us. I found I especially enjoyed this part of our night together, because I could see how happy it made my grandmother. This was one of the very few ways she treated herself, getting her mind off things with my grandfather’s diagnosis, and it always filled me with warmth to see her enjoying herself like this.
Somewhere in the middle of it all, I happened to feel my phone buzzing in my bag, which had been resting on my lap. I pulled it out, saw the name on the screen, and let out a frustrated groan as I declined the call. As I moved to toss the phone back into my purse, my grandmother asked, “Why would he be calling you?”
I shook my head, suddenly wondering what was worse—my family learning Tristan still reached out to me on occasion or that Wyatt Westwood had seen me nearly every day for just over a week now. “Once again, your guess is as good as mine. I don’t have a clue what’s going on with him. He’s been doing this every so often, ever since things ended between us. I answered his calls a few times in the beginning, but I don’t do it any longer. He seems to be calling me more frequently lately.”
Worry, and a bit of fear, washed over her expression. “Please tell me you aren’t going to consider going back to him. He was all wrong for you, Rhea.”
“I know. I have no intention of ever getting back together with him,” I promised her.
“That would be the one case I don’t think I could be happy about you missing bingo,” she revealed, her voice shaky.
I tipped my head to the side and sent a sad look her way. “I’d never miss out on time with you to spend time with him.”
“You were too good for him, and he didn’t deserve you,” she said.
Nodding, I insisted, “I know. Men are no good.”
She hesitated a moment, allowing her eyes to roam over my face. I didn’t know what she was searching for or if she found it, but I was surprised by the response she gave me. “That’s not true. I know that, because I’ve got your grandfather. And your mom has your dad. Maybe the last guy you dated was crap, but that’s not always going to be the case. And when the right one comes along, you’ll understand what I’m saying.”
I reached out and placed my hand on her arm. “I hope you’re right, because I’d really like to meet him.”
She covered my hand with hers. “He’ll find you. Trust me. That man, whoever he is, will take one look at you and know he isn’t going to do anything to risk letting you get away.”
Before I could respond to her, our attention was called to the front of the room, and our bingo session started. Throughout the evening, I spent some time chatting with my grandmother and the women around the table, particularly in between rounds. But when I had moments of quiet, my mind drifted to the conversation I’d had with her.
My grandmother wholeheartedly believed the right guy was out there for me and he’d find me when the time was right.
She never gave me any reason to doubt her, but my luck lately hadn’t given me a whole lot of reason to hope.
Oddly enough, after giving it so much thought, there was one face that popped into my head.
Wyatt Westwood.
There was no way. That man would be nothing but trouble.
7
