Page 16 of Right Side of Paradise
Last summer, I’d flown in from Los Angeles and stayed for three days before spending the summer traveling through ten European countries.
For Christmas, I’d done the same, coming in from Thailand to spend the week of Christmas with them before hopping on another plane to explore the west coast for six months.
It’d been so long since I paused that I missed the fact that life kept going whether I was here or not.
I hated that jealousy word, but envy was rearing her ugly head again.
Maybe it was because I was turning thirty or maybe it was because no place would ever top Onyx Cove, but I was ready to take a break from my drive by visits and make some memories that lasted longer than a weekend.
I was already home for the summer, but maybe I could just keep my calendar clear.
There was nowhere else in the world I felt this calm. Even if the calm came with a little melancholy right now.
It would pass.It had to.
Christian, Soul and Rico were my friends, I shouldn’t be feeling anything but the love we shared all our lives.
I tucked those thoughts away as I came up on my destination.
My grandmother’s crepe myrtles were the talk of the town. Half of her China cabinet was dedicated to the awards she won for them over the years.
They’d long outgrown her yard and were taller than the roof of her bungalow.
Hands at my waist, I stopped to admire them after my forty-minute walk across the island to reach her. The pink flowers inbloom on the trees reminded me of the soft-pink bikini I had on, bringing a smile to my lips.
Her door was never locked, so I knocked once before walking in.
The scent of fresh baked bread pulled me in, and I found a loaf cooling on her countertop.
And I knew I wouldn’t be leaving here until she made me a tomato sandwich with two slices from that loaf.
In no hurry, I made my way around her small but clean and clutter-free kitchen.
My granny’s house was like a museum. Aside from the China cabinet that you had to squeeze past on the way to the living room, every corner of the home showcased everything she adored.
First up on that list? All of Rico’s work.
She had about ten different kitchen towels hanging from her cabinet doors and I grinned, knowing each and every one of them was one of Rico’s designs.
She’d lost her mind when she found out the patterns he designed would be on household items and sold in stores.
We’d driven all over New Hanover County buying up what we could find when he licensed his first batch of designs to a popular home-goods store.
There was no blood between them, but in my grandma’s eyes, Rico was her grandson in every way that mattered.
She told everyone she could that her grandson was a textile designer whose art was all over.
Soul and Christian were no different.
She welcomed them even though her only child had birthed an only child. The more people she could love, the better.
I walked around the counter and stopped in front of the fridge. Soon, my cheeks hurt from the way my smile stretched.
Bless my grandmother’s heart, she didn’t know what it meant when I said I was a digital creator, aside from the fact I posted pictures online.
Naturally, screenshots from my Instagram account were plastered all over her fridge and freezer doors.
Uncropped. In gray scale. With the pages curling around the edges because of the humidity.
