Page 110 of An Introvert's Guide to Life and Love
“I was thinking of asking Ellie if her ice cream shop is hiring. Could be an easy gig while I figure out what I want to do next.”
Mom whimpers and covers her mouth with her fingertips.
“Mom. Please.”
“You don’t really want to work at an ice cream shop, do you? You don’t want to get too comfortable there and forget to, you know, go back to your real career.”
“What career?”
“Technology!”
I can’t help but laugh. “I’m not going back to tech. I never really liked it.”
“But…” Mom stands behind me, smoothing my hair and staring mournfully at my reflection in the mirror.
“It’s okay,” I say. “I’m never going to be a lawyer like Maeve and… all of you. I don’t know what I’m going to do. But I’m still me. And I’ll figure it out.”
I can sense that she wants to keep arguing her case, but apparently she decides to save it for another day.
“At least I know Gramps will be happy to have you back. Was he thrilled when you told him?”
I freeze. The thing is, I haven’t exactly told Gramps. I thought about it; after all, there’s probably some type of etiquette around informing someone before you show up to crash at their place. But ultimately, I decided that I don’t make huge, life-changing decisions often—this might be the only one in my entire life—so I want to have some fun with it. Make a grand gesture. It’s fun to imagine the look of stunned delight on Gramps’s face when I show up unannounced. Even if he doesn’t normally like surprises, I know he’ll like this one. But I know my mom wouldn’t find it cute; she would make me call him first. In fact, she would probably freak out at the idea that I’ve packed up my whole life here without even okaying it with the person I’m going to live with.
“Yeah,” I lie. “Thrilled.”
Mom turns suddenly emotional, her eyes filling with tears as she smiles and touches my cheek. “You’re a good daughter, Mallory. And a very sweet granddaughter.”
“Thanks.” My voice is muffled as she squeezes me to her.
“I’m going to visit all the time.”
“Good.”
“I’ll let you get some sleep. We’re leaving for the airport bright and early.”
I say good night and then shut the door to my childhood room, now a guest room slash my dad’s sports-themed man cave. Despite the clutter of sports paraphernalia, and despite the fact that I’ll be waking up to jump into a whole new life, I drop quickly into the heavy sleep of someone with no regrets.
I arrive in Tampa at fiveP.M.and pay for a taxi to take me to Sandy Shores. This time, instead of brutal afternoon sun beating down on the freeway, there’s a purplish-gray sky crackling with lightning and distant rumbles of thunder. It feels electric, hot, and steamy, so different from the place I left behind.
I drag my two suitcases across the grassy lawn. In the stormy light, the gazebo glows bright white. As the rain starts—deceivingly gentle at first, but I know it’ll be pounding down soon—I gaze across the beach at the choppy waves, filling my lungs with salty air. This is home now. I get to jump in those waves tomorrow morning, and every morning if I feel like it.
I take the elevator to Gramps’s floor and knock gently on his door before realizing that it’s unlocked.
“Helloooo,” I say quietly, suddenly worried about giving him a heart attack. “Gramps? It’s Mallory!”
I hear a happy bark and rush into the kitchen to greet Wally. I’mon my knees scratching behind his ears before I realize that Gramps is sitting at the kitchen table, and that he’s not alone. Angela sits across from him, and the table is laid with a tablecloth and the remnants of dinner, with two taper candles flickering between them. Flickeringromantically.
“Oh my gosh.” I stumble back to my feet. “I’m interrupting!”
“Mallory!” Gramps breaks into the huge smile I’d imagined he would have when I showed up. “What are you doing here?”
Angela is bustling around, telling me to sit down, pouring me a glass of water, microwaving me a plate of food before I can say a word.
“I’m—” I’m finding it impossible to say,Surprise, I’m back to live with you!in the midst of this development. “Really, I’m so sorry to interrupt, I’ll just—”
“Please!” Angela slides the plate in front of me, along with a fork and knife. “It’s wonderful to see you. Now tell us, what brings you back?” She sits back down and refills her own glass from a pitcher of water with ice and lemon slices floating in it.
“I…” What do I say now? I’m here to stay? I’m here to permanently cramp your style? “I’m moving to Florida.”
