Page 21 of An Introvert's Guide to Life and Love
So I reach out and squeeze his hand.
“Good night,” I say. “It was really,reallynice to meet you.”
He looks down at his shoes for a brief moment—to hide his disappointment?—and then smiles up at me. “Night.” He pauses to look at me again, apparently hesitating. Then, finally, he says, “Safe travels, you hear?”
And he stands back as I drive off, wondering what on earth just happened.
Chapter 10
The next morning, I wake up more refreshed than I’ve felt in a long time. The guest room here is perfectly dark and quiet, chilled to perfection by the strong but silent AC. Part of me also wonders if the kiss incident last night released some kind of relaxation hormones in my brain. I laugh at myself, remembering it. I don’t know what got into me, but I don’t regret it. I deserve to kiss a hot redhead now and then. Whatever the reason, I am bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this morning and have no desire to sit around the condo all day.
Gramps has already eaten a bowl of Grape-Nuts, but he agrees to accompany me to the dining room for breakfast.
I know at once that this was a good decision: There’s a buffet of fresh fruit, scrambled eggs, sausages, and potatoes. There’s even a self-serve waffle maker.
I fill my plate, drop it off at the table where Gramps is reading his newspaper, then make a second trip for a glass of cranberry juice and a mug of coffee.
“See, I don’t know why you don’t come here every morning,” I say around a mouthful of eggs.
Gramps sips his black coffee and shrugs. “I have everything I need upstairs.”
I take in the room: It’s pretty empty—it is after nine, which isprobably way later than most of the people here have breakfast. But there’s enough gentle chatter in the background to add to the pleasant ambience. It’s also huge, with a soaring ceiling and floor-to-ceiling windows facing the gulf. Then again, Gramps has a gulf view from his kitchen, too.
“Okay, well.” I cut into a piece of cantaloupe. “It’s Sunday today. What would you normally do all day?”
He looks amused at the question. He scratches his head, ruffling his thick white hair.
“Let’s see. Breakfast, check. Coffee, check. I guess I might take my paper down to the pool to finish reading it. I like to do the crossword on Sundays. Lunch—maybe a sandwich. Then, I don’t know, I like an afternoon nap. After that, while away the time until dinner, I suppose.”
There’s a long pause. I stare into my creamy coffee, feeling unexpectedly crushed by how sad this sounds. I mean, isn’t he bored? Lonely? He must be, right?
“But we can do whatever you like,” he says. “What tickles your fancy?”
How about if you show me beyond a doubt that you’re doing just fine? How about if you hang out with Angela and your other friends, so I know you have a social life? That would all tickle my fancy, for sure.
Of course, I don’t say any of that. Instead, I say, “Let’s start with the pool.”
I step out of my white cover-up, revealing a black halter one-piece. Then I slather SPF 50 on all my exposed skin as Gramps settles himself in a chair under an umbrella.
“Don’t you want to get a suntan?” His face is mildly amused.
“I mean, that would be great, but not at the risk of skin cancer.” I rub vigorously at my arms.
“Oh, that? They just cut those spots off. No big deal.” He’s openly laughing now. “I’ve had two cut off my nose.”
“Ew.” I pause to rummage in my bag, pulling out the tinted SPF I use on my face. “And also, no. You can die from skin cancer. The bad kind.”
“Yes, well.” He looks out across the beach, still smiling. “You have to go some way or other. Might as well be from sitting in the sun.”
I stare at him. I don’t know if he’s joking or not, but even if he’s not joking, how would I respond to that?
He turns back to me and remarks, “Now you look like Casper the friendly ghost.”
I look down at my legs and try rubbing the cream in more, but it’s no use. The sunscreen is merely highlighting my natural pallor.
“I think that crossword puzzle is calling your name.”
“Ah, yes.” He takes a pencil out of his pocket and focuses on the paper.
