Page 20 of Play the Last Card

I’m nervous today.

I love playing cards with Pops. We play all sorts: Gin, Canasta, even Go Fish. UNO is our favorite though, our Sunday morning ritual. We started playing after I stopped wanting to go to football games with Pops. His way of us spending time together every week. It started when I was eight and never stopped. Even as a teenager and hanging out with my friends was the main event on a Saturday, the tradition held up. No matter how late the party, no matter how long I’d stayed out on a Saturday night, I always got up on Sunday morning and played cards with Pops. Even during my college years.

It’s our thing.

But today, I’m nervous. No need to dig any deeper into why. The text sitting unanswered is the exact reason why.

Scott:Looking forward to tonight. I’ll pick you up around 7?

I didn’t answer.Hadn’tanswered. Yet.

Part of me thought he’d definitely cancel, maybe even hoped for it a little bit. But even so, a bigger part of me is over the moon that he hasn’t.Katie has brought up our date more times than I can count and each time my cheeks heat and my face goes a shade of red I’ve never seen before.

I’m nervous about seeing Pops, I’m nervous about what will happen after seeing Pops.

Dating isn’t my specialty. I went out with guys in high school, had my fling with the football world before shutting that down for good. During college I’d gone to my fair share of parties and had the odd hook up here and there. Truth is though, I never really cared. I’d gone along because the movie they’d suggested had been one I wanted to see, or the food at the restaurant they’d asked to go to had been raved about and I was keen to give it a go.

Even with the few short-term relationships I’d had, the spark had fizzled and my interest dimmed after a while. They’d never made me nervous, or breathless with a smile, or curious.

I felt all of that as soon as I spoke more than two words to Scott.

Hemakes me nervous.

I try to focus on the board as I order Pops and I breakfast at the Starbucks drive through. A treat for us both and a distraction for Pops. Even Nan used to say the hospital food sucked.

The grateful smile on Pops’ face when I walk in carrying his black coffee over ice and the smeared bagel relaxes my shoulders a little.

“You’re my favorite grandchild,” he tells me, his eyes tracking my movements closely as I set the coffee tray on a nearby table.

“I’m your only grandchild.”

“I lucked out.”

I smile, handing over the coffee. “Mhmm, sure.”

His eyes roll into the back of his head a little when he takes his first gulp. I laugh taking a seat on the edge of his bed, sipping on my own. They filled a third of the cup with whipped cream this morning and I could honestly not be happier about it; future sugar crash be damned.

Pops whispers closely to his coffee, telling it over and over that it contains some sort of magical powers.He’s so dramatic.

Nan used to roll her eyes and scowl whenever he did anything like this—act like his life was a soap-opera or something—but there was always a smile on her lips and she’d indulge him anyway. Every time. He has a childlike optimism about the world that I love.

That fact only makes my chest hurt more whenever I find myself thinking about losing him.

“So, how was your Saturday night?” he asks me, coffee cradled against his chest like he’s scared one of the nurses might try to pry it away from him.

“Usual. Katie and I had wine, watched Bravo and fell asleep by nine.”

“Ivy.” Pops shakes his head. “You’re twenty-three. I want stories about you dancing on tables and doing shots off a bartender somewhere.”

I throw him a look. “Any other parent would be ecstatic to learn their twenty-something was being responsible and not partying their brain cells to death.”

“I’m not just any grandparent though.” He shrugs and meets my eyes. “I’m a cool grandparent.”

“I should never have let you watch mean girls.”

“Regina’s mother is an icon. You cannot tell me otherwise.”

I laugh, shaking my head in disbelief as Pops readjusts himself on his pillows, sitting up a little taller. He takes another sip of his coffee before putting it beside him and rubbing his hands together eagerly. “What are we playing today then?”

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