Page 31 of An Introvert's Guide to Life and Love
“That does complicate things, doesn’t it?”
Am I imagining it, or is he implying that it complicates things with the house and… with us? No, I’m definitely imagining it. Because there is no us. Obviously.
“Well, let me know what you decide,” he says. “There’s no rush, of course.”
No rush for him. But for me? I could definitely use the rental income to start covering these costs. The numbers and the impossibility of the situation make my head spin.
“Okay.”
“Lucky planes,” he says.
“What?”
“It’s what we say in my family before someone boards a flight. You know, safe travels and all that.”
“Oh. Thank you.”
I want to ask where this saying came from, and whether he traveled a lot as a kid, or whether he does now—because I don’t want to hang up the phone. Again. What is this power his voice has over me?
But I don’t ask any of those things, because that wouldn’t be professional.
Instead, I say, “I’ll be in touch after I’ve made a decision,” which comes out sounding like I have a stick where the sun don’t shine. Why can’t I just sound normal for once in my life?
“Looking forward to hearing from you,” he says smoothly. “Bye, Mallory.”
Back at the condo, Gramps is still asleep. I curl up on the couch and watch out the sliding glass balcony doors as the promised thunderstorm moves in. The clouds churn, darkening to a purplish gray. The gulf roils up to match the sky, dotted with white peaks. I grab my beach towel and tuck it over my knees like a blanket. That’s one thing about Florida: People never have enough blankets.
The rain rolls in, and it’s a true summer downpour. It’s so loud that it drowns out the sound of Gramps snoring in the other room. Nature’s white-noise machine. I tap my phone and check my calendar. Tomorrow’s a full day of travel—I might need to lie to Kat and tell her I’m taking a sick day. The next day, Wednesday, is packed with meetings from nine to four. Skimming the meeting titles with words like “OP planning” and “milestone check-in” fills me with a faint sense of dread. Faint, because I’m used to it, and because I really, really need the paycheck. Dread, because it’s all mind-numbingly boring, and because my mind has been so far from work the last few days that it might take some effort to get back into it.
There’s a sudden bright flash, followed immediately by acrackof thunder. It makes me drop my phone. Heart pounding, I retrieve my phone from the plush rug, and then tiptoe to the door of Gramps’s bedroom.
I crack the door open slightly and peer inside. He’s sleeping on his side with his hands tucked under his cheek. The thunder doesn’t seem to have woken him. As I watch his chest rise and fall with each breath, I’m filled with some kind of feeling that I’ve never felt before. It’s tender and achy and peaceful and nostalgic all at once. I guess that it might be similar to how Maeve feels watching her son sleep. And then I picture myself driving off to the airport tomorrow morning, waving goodbye as Gramps stands back and watches me go. I imagine him coming back upstairs, alone. Looking around the empty kitchen, pulling out his newspaper, putting it back down, climbing into bed to sleep the day away.
Crack.This time I feel the thunder in my chest. Gramps doesn’t stir, so I close the door and return to the couch. I check my calendar again, and something clicks. These meetings are virtual. I do them all from my living room at home. Why couldn’t I do them from Gramps’s living room instead? Kat wouldn’t even need to know.
As much as this idea terrifies me—I learned my lesson the hard way, back in my wannabe-digital-nomad days—it also fills me with relief. Idon’thave to leave. My apartment will be fine without me for a few more days, but Gramps needs me. Sure, I miss the comforts of home. But this condo isn’t so bad. Plus, I have my laptop, meaning I can still watchOutlanderbefore bed.
I grab my phone again, open the Pottery Barn website, find the fluffiest blanket they have, and order it to be shipped here. And then I cancel my flight.
This was the right decision. Everything will be fine. There’s no way Kat will find out I’m not where I’m supposed to be.
Chapter 14
At dinner that night, Gramps and I silently pick at our casserole (this time it’s tater tot, something I’d never heard of that is surprisingly delicious).
I clear my throat. “So, I was thinking.”
“Hmm?” he says without looking up from his plate.
“I don’t think I’ll leave tomorrow after all. I was thinking I’ll stay for another week or so. If that’s okay with you.”
His light-blue eyes flash up at me, and the side of his mouth lifts in the barest hint of a smile.
“Whatever you like,” he says.
His words were casual, but I saw that look in his eyes. I can tell he’s happy. It fills me with a warm flush, and it reinforces that I made the right decision.
I nod and return his almost smile. We return to eating in silence. After a few more bites, I can’t take it anymore.
