Page 81 of Trade Deadline

“They’re good guys,” I say reassuringly.

“I believe you; I just… I still get a bit nervous.”

A couple of guys from the football and hockey teams made Jacob’s life miserable in high school. Years of bullying had left their mark on him, even a decade later, so I understood his natural reluctance around jocks, but I knew he’d eventually see these guys are different from those douchebags from school.

When the timer pings, alerting me that dinner’s ready, I serve up the chicken alfredo and hand a bowl over to Jacob.

“How are things going with Blaine?”

“Good, really good,” I say between mouthfuls. “I ended up telling him about our situation the other day, and he wanted to help us out.”

Mirroring my own reaction, Jacob shakes his head. “We couldn’t ask that of him.”

“That’s exactly what I said.”

“It’s kind of him to suggest it, but it’s too much.”

I nod in agreement, waving my fork around as I finish chewing. “I don’t think he realizes the incredible impact he’s had just by showing his face in the shop. He’s been mentioning us on Instagram, and Zach’s been posting photos of his orders. It’s brought in a lot of new customers, so that in itself is a big help.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah, it’s been crazy, but I have a good feeling about it.”

Not just about the shop but about the developing relationship with Blaine, too. I’m still nervous as fuck because Christmas is only a few days away, but I find myself counting down the minutes until I get to spend time with him. This isn’t how I envisioned my life, but they always say sometimes the best things in life are unexpected.

* * *

A couple days later,Christmas Eve is upon us, and my nerves are running wild. Blaine offered to pick us up, and since he’s arrived, he’s been checking every photo in the living room, and asking questions.

“Is this you?” Blaine asks, pointing to a framed photo on the wall of me with my grandfather.

I walk over to stand next to him, a smile appearing on my face at the memory.

“Yeah, I was in ninth grade, and it was ‘come as your hero’ day, so I went as my grandpa.”

I chuckle to myself, remembering his face when I came down the stairs in stone khakis and a sweater vest. My grandma even managed to find some glasses similar to his, and he was rendered speechless for possibly the first time in his life.

Blaine’s face softens. “Will you tell me more about him?”

“He was such a prankster. Always telling jokes and pulling pranks on people. There was this time he installed this small speaker thing in the cupboard, like the kind you get out of greeting cards where you record your own message. Anyway, he recorded himself saying, ‘Margaret, bring me more snacks’, so whenever my grandma would open the cupboard door, that message would play out and she couldn’t figure out where it was coming from.” I laugh, remembering how mad she would get. “You would hear her shouting, ‘Ernie, get off of your ass and get your own damn snacks!’”

Blaine laughs. “Ha! I’d never have thought to do something like that.”

“Me neither.” I walk over to the couch and sit down, tucking my feet under me. “When I was about five years old, he blew up his vegetable patch. I’d come here during summer break while my parents were at work, and one day we were playing in the yard with this science experiment kit I'd gotten for my birthday, but he decided to take it a step further. I can’t remember what he used exactly, but cabbage ended up all over the yard. He claimed it was an accident, but I think he knew exactly what he was doing.”

Blaine’s eyes are wide, a matching smile on his face. “Wow, he sounds like a really fun guy.”

I nod. My grandfather was an incredible man.

“He was so much fun, but he was so caring, too. He was besotted with my grandma. Every Thursday, without fail, he’d go to the store and bring home a bouquet of flowers, and Sunday was the day they always had a dance.”

“A dance?”

“Yeah, he loved Elvis. He used to say to me, ‘Alex, if there’s only one thing I can teach you, it’s that the King is the King of music, not just rock and roll, and don’t let anyone tell you differently.’” I shake my head to ward off my emotions as my heart starts to feel heavy in my chest. “I still have all of his vinyl. We’d sit and listen to them together, and we’d both sing along as I did a jigsaw or some coloring. He and my grandma would dance to ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love’ every Sunday after dinner, and he’d sing along to the words to her. They used to say it was their song.”

Jacob and I used to stand by the door and watch. Even as kids, we knew their love was special. We were so lucky to have them in our lives, helping us through the grief of losing our parents and grow into our identities as we became teenagers and into adulthood. Giving us the space to be who we wanted to be with no limitations. We owe them everything, and it still hurts, even after two years, to know that I’ll never get to hear my grandfather’s cackle when he pulled another prank or my grandma complaining when he’d leave his dirty socks on the stairs.

A lump forms in my throat, and I blink away the tears forming in my eyes. I miss them so fucking much.

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