Page 99 of Exes and O's

“I accidently fell for my roommate,” I blurt, unfastening my seat belt. I lean my head against the headrest and close my eyes, desperate for a few minutes to regroup.

“I know. Your sister told me yesterday during yoga.” Grandma Flo is unperturbed by this revelation.

“Of course she told you,” I grumble, mildly bothered they went to yoga without inviting me (not that I’d go, but an invite would be nice), but mostly pissed that Crystal had the gall to talk to Grandma Flo about me. “Anyway, so Trevor...” I give her all the details of Trevor’s and my relationship over the past four and a half months.

She turns down the radio and listens intently, smiling the entire time. “Isn’t it obvious? He was trying to declare his love for you at the gala. And seeing you on Daniel’s arm last night, on Valentine’s Day of all days, spooked him.”

“But I told him how I felt and he didn’t believe me. I think this is the first time a guy has accused me of not having enough feelings.”

“Maybe he’s projecting because his own feelings scare him,” Grandma Flo posits. “You mentioned he’s experienced a lot of loss, with his parents and his brother. And now with his poor niece’s health complications...”

I consider that. “Maybe.”

“Some people struggle with communication. Especially if they’re afraid to get hurt,” Grandma Flo points out, drumming her thin fingers on the steering wheel.

“Still. We’ve only been dating a couple days, and so far it’s just been misunderstanding after misunderstanding with him. And I hate pointless misunderstandings in romance. Why can’t peoplejust have conversations like adults? Lay it all out on the line and avoid the next three hundred pages of turmoil?”

“Then there wouldn’t be a book, would there?” Grandma Flo snorts, tossing me a schooling brow raise. “My dear, you have a lot to learn about relationships if you think all problems can be solved with a single conversation. Give yourself a break. You’re in the beginning of your relationship. You’re two very different people ironing out the kinks.”

“I solve things with conversations,” I point out stubbornly.

“But you’ve never been one to hide your feelings, even as a young girl. Saying what’s on your mind comes naturally to you. But we’re talking about men here. Human beings.” She chuckles, fluffing her curls in the rearview mirror. “Take Marty, for example. He’s about as emotional as they come. But do you really think your grandfather ever told me how he felt at any given time?”

Unlikely. Grandpa Roger was cantankerous as the best of them, always complaining about something, whether it was the weather (too hot or too cold, no in between), the slow cashier at the pharmacy, Vanna White’s choice of dress on any given episode ofWheel of Fortune. Mom used to say he was unhappy when he didn’t have anything to complain about. He was old-school, upholding antiquated gender norms with his stern rigidity.

“Your grandpa showed his love not through words but through actions,” Grandma Flo explains.

“I remember he always cooked for you and got you flowers from the market on his way home from work.” I smile at the memory of visiting on weekends. There was always a bouquet of fresh flowers proudly displayed in the middle of the dining room table.The note always said the same thing:TO MY DEAREST FLO, in his all-caps block handwriting.

“He did. And he didn’t love me any less. That’s part of what makes a long-term relationship work. Real life isn’t a ninety-minute movie or a three-hundred-page novel. It takes time to truly understand what someone else needs and how the other person communicates their love.” She gives my kneecap another reassuring squeeze.

I crack a smile. Why is she always right? “What would you say to him if you were me?”

She presses her finger to her lips, contemplating. “I’d tell him how much you care for him. Put it all out there.”

“I will,” I say. “I just hope he’ll believe me when I tell him how much I love him.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“I still know I’m going to be okay.” It feels so good to say that out loud. I know in my heart it’s true, because every time I’m heartbroken, convinced I’ll never bounce back, I always do.

“Of course you will.” She places her wrinkled hand over mine and squeezes before adding, “My darling granddaughter deserves the best. No exceptions.”

“Thanks, Grandma.” A tiny seed blooms in my stomach, because for the first time in forever, I truly believe it.

chapter thirty-three

PEOPLE ARE SERVINGme some serious looks.

Then again, I am a human bumblebee in my massive Belle dress in the hospital elevator. A woman grumbles under her breath when I inadvertently bop her in the face with an obnoxiously large bundle of pink gift shop balloons. Along with the balloons, I’m also juggling a Flynn Rider piñata and one of Mel’s cast-iron frying pans to break it with—like in the movie when Rapunzel hits him in the face with a pan.

The party is scheduled to start in half an hour. It’s no Disneyland, but all the brightly painted whimsical cardboard structures serve as fuel for the imagination. Pink and purple streamers drape across the entire room, doing their best to mask the ugly hospital ceiling and walls. A long rectangular table sits in the middle of the room, draped in a hot-pink tablecloth, accented by sparkly confetti and princess plates, napkins, party hats, and gaudy plastic crowns.

Staff members are already milling about, assisting with the last-minute setup of the goody bags. Even Crystal and Scott are here, dressed as Snow White and Prince Charming, respectively. They’re the designated muscle, moving furniture and doing the miscellaneous heavy lifting. Trevor is nowhere to be seen, which is honestly making my anxiety even worse.

Angie spots me right away from the “window” of Rapunzel’s tower, which was a bitch to construct out of cardboard given its height. “It’s Belle!” She’s full of energy today, wide-eyed and giggly at the sight of the piñata in my arms. “And you brought the pan.”

Payton enthusiastically approves, dressed in a Princess Anna dress. “Oh my God. You look fantastic!” Something is different about her today. Usually, she looks weary, worn, and in need of a long nap. But today, she’s bright and lively. She folds me into a hug, although my hoop skirt prevents close contact. “I didn’t expect all of this. It’s above and beyond, honestly.”

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