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Of all the things we talked about and all the things she had left to say, she chose Charles.
I wasn’t expecting it.
She told me I should get to know the man who was sleeping with my grandmother.
When I got back home, Atlas was there, waiting for me.
I had to admit though… when I looked at the front porch and saw that gigantic, shaded figure waiting, I felt some panic. It was somewhat impossible to look at Atlas and not feel panic.
The panic subsided, then he and I started kissing on the porch.
Acting as though we hadn’t seen each other in months.
We went into the house, kept kissing, kept touching, and eventually made it to my bed.
That’s where I ended up falling asleep on Atlas’s rock-hard chest.
He was warm, comfortable, and the smell of his cologne smelled like protection.
With my eyes shut, I apologized to him.
He hugged me tighter and whispered he loved me.
I never slept so good in my entire life.
The next morningbreakfast waited for me in the kitchen.
But it came with a note from Atlas.
He had to leave early for a morning practice and what he wrote ashockey shit.
Atlas had breakfast delivered, along with coffee. And orange juice.
Atlas knew me. Atlas understood me.
Atlas loved me.
I read it over and over in his note.
I love you.
His handwriting.
His words.
I had a lonely breakfast, staring at Atlas’s note, thinking about one other person.
Charles.
The last living piece of Gram’s life.
I finished eating, took a shower, and made the decision to drive to Charles’s house.
I had to see him again. I had to talk to him again.
He had been so welcoming to me.
I had been a little standoffish - maybe expected, considering all I found out about my grandmother.
