Page 59 of More Than Words

Isobel mouthed Man Candy, and I tried not to laugh, but the wink she followed it up with had me smothering a fake cough into my fist.

“Anyway. Pops, Isobel is the one who went with me to that conference a few months back in Maine.”

“Ah, so you’re the one who Adrian has been chasin’ for years and still won’t give him the time of day. I would try to sing my grandson’s praises, but I’ve gotta feelin’ you’ve seen him cram those size twelves in his mouth enough times to make an educated decision.”

Pops knew I didn’t have the best verbal filter around the family, so I knew he was commenting based on that, but he’d be disappointed if he knew how I’d treated Isobel the last several years. I was disappointed enough in myself, but Isobel didn’t throw me under the bus like she could have. Hopefully, the recent changes in both our behavior would stick, and we could see where things went between us.

“So how long have you had terrible taste in ball teams, Ms. Isobel?” Pops laughed as we thankfully got through traffic and into the parking lot a few blocks away from Fenway.

“Pops,” I warned, but Isobel just laughed, indulging him.

“I know the Cubs are an acquired taste outside of Chicago, but I’ve loved them since my dad took me to Wrigley the first time when I was about five or six.”

“You from Chicago?” he asked as I steered into an open parking spot, shifting into park and unbuckling my belt.

“No, sir.” She responded with a smile. “Small farm town in central Iowa.”

“Shoulda guessed,” he grinned, turning to glance at her over the seat. “Only a sweetheart midwestern girl could put up with my grandson. None of the Southie girls would put up with his charming bullshit.”

“Adrian’s charming?” Isobel asked, deadpan. The only sign she was joking was the way she chewed on the corner of her lip while my grandfather’s laughter filled the car again.

“Oh, I like this one, Ad. She’s not gonna put up with nonsense.”

As I made eye contact with her in the rearview mirror, her light eyes dancing, I fell a little bit deeper. Isobel was dismantling my armor as much as I was trying to dismantle hers, and the more we both uncovered, the more real things became.

What started as a drive to rile her up and explore our physical connection had morphed into something I wasn’t sure I was ready to identify, but I was helpless to resist.

“She definitely is not, Pops. And I think I like that about her the most.”

His weathered hand covered mine on the center console and squeezed. Isobel had just cemented my grandfather’s seal of approval in one brief car ride, and it felt like another part of my life clicking into place after being untethered for so long.

ISOBEL

Boston

Adrian’s grandfather was my new favorite person. His deep, weathered voice, the ever-present smirk, and the knowledge that he completely had his grandson’s number was truly impressive. It also had me aching for my family to be that close. My grandparents were all gone now, but I knew I’d never had the spark bond the men walking in the stadium gates in front of me shared. Adrian carried the heavy weight of his family on his shoulders, and while I hated that he’d masked himself for so long, part of me was thankful that he was letting his guard down for me and no one else.

I wasn’t sure I wanted to share his kind and compassionate nature with the rest of the world. His dickish façade had kept people away from his heart, and it wouldn’t be here for me, open to the possibility of more, if someone else had come along and claimed it.

For the first time in a long, long time, I felt my spark returning, my once dormant dreams flickering to life at the possibility of something I thought had been snuffed out long ago.

“You alright takin’ a seat toward the middle?” Adrian asked as we stood at the top of the stairs leading down to the general seating area. The ballpark was still half empty, but people were steadily filtering in and finding their seats.

“Which row?”

“Fourth one down, the four seats on the aisle.” The hair on the back of my neck stirred as his warm breath flowed over the side of my neck. “If you go in first, I can help Pops get settled. It’s easier for him to sit in the end seat.”

“Four?” I asked, wondering who else would join us. Going to the game was enough of a surprise, much less meeting his grandfather and some mystery stranger.

“Hutch isn’t here yet,” he smiled, pressing his hand to the center of my back, his fingers flexing against the material of my shirt. “He’s dealing with some tween drama right now, but I’m sure he’ll show up before the end of the first inning.”

As I started down the steps—Adrian carefully leading his grandfather down the steps behind me—I racked my brain trying to place the name. I wasn’t sure he’d mentioned Hutch before.

Once we were settled into the seats, Adrian sitting between me and Pops, he leaned over and squeezed my knee, whispering in my ear. “Did I not tell you I have a twin?”

There were a lot of words constantly coming out of Adrian’s mouth, but the word twin hadn’t been one of them.

“You need anything? Drink? Frank?”

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