Page 64 of Romance Languages

“Elizabeth Bradford.” She stuck her hand out and eyed me up and down at least twice. “So this is Seamus.”

“In the flesh.” I gave her hand a soft, mother-approved squeeze. She had the faded-but-intact looks of a former beauty queen. “It’s great to meet you.”

“Let’s get inside. It’s cold out here. My nipples could cut my wedding cake.” Grandma Judy tugged her coat tight. Both Julian and Elizabeth turned the same shade of red.

“Well, now I’m hungry for dessert,” I said as I opened the door for everyone. I gave Julian a reassuring wink. I could fake boyfriend in my sleep.

Julian had prepped me on the band on the way over. Vance Vance Revolution was made up of twin brothers who couldn’t have been more than twenty-two, yet specialized in playing jazz music from a century ago. They had us meet at their loft, which doubled as their rehearsal space. They’d done their best to tidy up their bedroom space and the kitchen; the effort reminded me of the mad scramble my frat used to do right before parents weekend.

“Welcome, welcome! I’m Hunter, and this is my brother Ryder.” The Vance twins didn’t help the situation by having the same identical shaggy hair cut and both wearing blue T-shirts.

“Do you boys have nametags?” Judy asked.

“We do, actually!” Hunter said. On cue, the boys pulled nametags from their back pockets and pinned them to their chests.

Grandma Judy squinted. “Who can read that? The letters are so small.”

“It’s okay, Grandma. We’ll keep track of them for you,” Julian said. He gave the boys the nod to continue their spiel.

“Cool, cool,” said Hunter. It seemed that Ryder was the strong, silent type and that we wouldn’t be hearing from him. “Ryder and I are going to play some tunes for you. We hope you like it and, uh, book us.” A tuft of hair fell into his eyes when he nodded. “Um, and yeah…Here we go!”

Hunter pointed at the folding chairs set up for us. I squeezed Julian’s hand again when we took our seats. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught his mom eyeing us again.

Despite how awkward the brothers Vance seemed, they were talented musicians. Their first song was a familiar jazz song that I knew I’d heard plenty of times before. Julian informed me it wasTake Five, but that meant nada to me. Ryder played upright bass, while Hunter dazzled on the piano.

I tapped my fingers to the beat on Julian’s knee and kept trying to impress him with my chair dancing skills. He grinned to himself, his lips forming this sexy snarl that did things to me that should not have been happening.

Was I laying it on thick?

Knowing that Julian’s mom was observing us like lab rats made me step my game up. She probably had very high standards for her son. She probably wanted Julian to wind up with a guy who owned a sailboat or was on the board of children’s hospitals and museums. Good thing this wasn’t a real relationship. If she ever got ahold of my bank statements, she'd die of shock.

Grandma Judy was really getting into the music. She tapped her feet and swayed in her seat. This woman was made to groove.

“Judy, would you like to dance?” I held out my hand.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

We glided to the empty space between the brothers and our chairs. My siblings and I had never understood why my mom insisted we take dance lessons as kids, but now it clicked. Knowing how to dance would always come in handy.

“This kid’s got moves!” Grandma Judy exclaimed to her family members as I spun us around the floor.

“You ain’t seen nothing yet,” I said as I dipped her—slowly. She was an old woman. I had to be gentle. One wrong move, and we could have a broken hip on our hands.

Julian’s mom shuffled her seat closer to her son. He rolled his eyes for a split second, which made me laugh. They got lost in conversation as Grandma Judy and I got lost in the art of the dance.

“What was your wedding song?” I asked.

“My husband was a big Beatles fan, so we went with ‘Something.’ Cliché, I know. I wanted ‘Ain’t No Mountain High Enough,’ so I’m no better.”

While my mom had made us get dance lessons, my Uncle Albie had made sure all Shablanski kids were well-versed in The Beatles.

“‘Something’is a classic,” I said, the guitar riff playing in my head.

“It wasn’t a classic when we got married. Just another song by those funny-looking Englishmen.” Her eyes lit up with memory. Under that brash demeanor was a woman with a big, bursting heart. “I can’t believe it’s been fifty years. It doesn’t feel that way. You’ll realize this as you get older. Time may be passing. My tits may be drooping to the floor. But in my mind, I still feel like I’m thirty. Getting older can be cruel in that way.”

“It helps to have someone to grow old with.”

A wistful smile flitted over her lips. “It was a bit of a scandal when I married George. Being thirty and single wasn’t normal back then for women. And I was divorced. I might as well have sewn a scarlet letter onto my clothes.” She peered at the floor in a moment of seriousness. “I felt so much shame. I carried it around with me. Nobody gets married expecting to get divorced. Life happens, but some people can’t see beyond their narrow version of life. George was the first man who sawme, not my age or my marital status. Being with him made the shame disappear.”

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