Page 5 of The Right Kind of Wrong

“You know what I mean. Is she still prissy and obsessed with work? Or did she finally lighten up?”

“Same Hannah,” he stated rather quietly, as if ashamed of admitting it.

“Ah, my sister. I guess it won't ever happen.” I sighed.

With nothing else to say, we both stood in awkward silence. It wasn't my place to talk about my sister, especially not about her flaws to her husband. It would have been like bringing another problem to our already fragile family.

“Are you busy?” The question brought Nathan out of whatever trance he'd fallen into, one in which he was most likely thinking about the endless problems I had yet to learn about.

He shook his head, the spark that had been present in his eyes a few seconds ago now lost. “What are you thinking?”

“I want to see Nana.”

At the mention of her, his lips tilted up. “I'll go clean up and we can head out. I haven't seen the old lady in a few days.”

“Awesome.”

I stayed in his little studio while he changed and my fingers itched to mess with the paint lying around. Hoping I wouldn't get into trouble, I picked up a brush and dabbed it into a light blue color, putting it to a blank canvas.

I can't paint for shit.

Nevertheless, I painted God knows what on it, blending colors I wasn't even sure went well together. Dancing to the music playing in my head, running the brush over the canvas, I was careful not to make too much of a mess. I decided I would put my masterpiece in my room which would not be as boring as the rest of the house.

I smiled when it was finished and at the end, I added an obnoxious smiley face right in the center. Absolutely not necessary, but it made me happy.

Just as I was putting the brush in water, Nathan opened the door. He was all cleaned up now, no more paint lingering on his hair, his leather jacket fit him just as well as it did before. I knew he was married, that didn't make me blind. He was incredibly handsome with those breathtaking eyes and perfect jawline. The muscles helped too. And the hair, God, it looked so soft it made me want to run my hands through it.

“Can't believe you still have it,” I said, walking past him.

“Why wouldn't I? First gift after you got your first job.”

I shook my head. That was a horrible job. That was how I learned I was definitely not meant to be a waitress. It didn't take long for me realize it, especially after I had dropped two orders during the first two hours on the job. Needless to say, by the end of the day, I was jobless. It was around Christmas time and the very little money I'd earned, I used to buy Nathan and Nana a gift. That had been when I was sixteen, right before I left.

We walked over to his car; the 1965 red Ford Mustang he'd fought so much to restore. My sister had never agreed, could never even handle having the car around when it wasn't working.

“This thing is beautiful,” I said with a dreamy sigh as I climbed inside, admiring the leather seats and the way everything had been so well maintained.

“Haven't been in it in years. Have you?”

“Not since I left. I think this is what I missed the most.” I closed my eyes, feeling his glare. “You're a close…third.” He gave me a quizzical look. “Nana is second.” He nodded in agreement, turning on the car. I grinned at Nathan, who brought the top of the car down so that the bright sun could hit us. Squealing in excitement, I turned on the radio and waited for him to take off.

I must have looked like an idiot, grinning the whole time as he drove. Something about driving with the top down and listening to music was so very liberating. Luckily, Nathan never seemed to mind and I danced to the music, playfully nudging him when he didn't do the same.

He rolled his eyes and began tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. It was always like this with him, just fun and entertainment.

After a short fifteen minute drive, we made it to Nana's cozy little home. It had been originally in the plans for her to move in with my sister, but after seeing the pretentious house, she had opted, instead, to live on her own. She said the house Hannah had chosen was far too luxurious for her taste.

It was safe to say I was a lot like her and I was proud to be.

“You go in first,” I told Nathan.

He agreed and I watched him walk up the driveway, opening my grandma's door without bothering to knock. Nana loved him. I saw them hugging, Nana reaching up to squeeze his cheeks, probably pinching the dimples everyone seemed to love about him.

Nathan covered Nana's eyes and turned her around. Taking that as my cue to step out of the car, I did so quietly and walked up to her. She looked older, yet even from the distance, I could tell she was just as happy and optimistic as always.

She asked Nathan what was going on, but he didn't say anything, eyeing me as I stood in front of them. Once there, he uncovered her eyes. They immediately widened with the shock of seeing me.

“Oh, come on, Nana. Give your favorite granddaughter a hug.”

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