Page 32 of Sugar Coated Lies
“Sorry. I woke up late.” It kills me to say that. “I never wake up late,” I add, because it’s true.
It’s then I notice his bottom lip hangs open and his mint-green eyes are sweeping up and down my body. They pause on my breasts, which are nipping—great—and continue to my hair before resting on my face.
“I’m terrifying. I know. I’m sorry. I can be ready in less than five, though. I swear. Come on in.” I wave for him to enter and step back.
His gaze drops to my bare legs again, his lip still hanging. He glances away and wipes his mouth, inhaling a deep breath as if composing himself.
Great. Now I’ve made him uncomfortable. “You don’t have to come in.”
“No.” He shakes his head and seems to force his gaze to mine. He inhales another breath, and that warm smile emerges on his perfect lips. “I’d love to come inside.”
He takes the three small steps with one swoop and enters the kitchen. It opens to the small living room, no dining area, just two bar stools at the counter. Grandpa never sits there. He eats in his favorite recliner in front of the TV on a tray stand. Daire has probably never seen a place like this.
Nothing is new, updated, or polished. The furniture is dated and old, but even if we had the money to change it, I wouldn’t. Keeping things around that are familiar to Grandpa is necessary to help ground him.
Carol walks Grandpa out of the bedroom. He’s dressed in a white t-shirt and his favorite blue pants. He eyes Daire and his big form taking up all the space in the tiny kitchen.
“Who are you?” Grandpa asks in a surly voice. He’s not being mean; it’s just how he talks.
“Hello, sir. I’m Daire Livingston.” My boss raises his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Carol and I both freeze, nervous about how Grandpa will respond.
He studies Daire from head-to-toe and raises his hand. “Miles Calhoun.” Grandpa nods. “You got a nice firm grip. That’s important; says a lot about a man.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Grandpa looks at me strangely and blinks.Please God, don’t let him have a flashback and think I’m mom like he did last night.“Don’t you have work?”
Thank you, Jesus. I glance to the heavens and blow out a breath of relief.
Carol smiles up at Daire, her cheeks rosy, as she holds onto Grandpa’s arm. “I’m Carol.”
“Sorry,” I say, forgetting my manners. “Carol, this is Daire. Daire, this is Carol.” Her smile widens, and she reminds me of a teenager meeting a celebrity crush.
“Nice to meet you.” Her voice is quiet and so out of character for her. She fluffs her short, curly hair.
Daire nods. “A pleasure.”
A noise comes from her. A sigh?
“I’m going to get him to his chair, then I can fix you some coffee, if you’d like?”
“That would be wonderful. Here, let me help.” He goes to grab Grandpa’s arm.
I grip his bicep. My fingers barely cover half the muscle as I stop him from touching Grandpa and shake my head in warning. I hope he doesn’t get offended.
His Adam's apple bobs, and he lowers his hand.
I mouth,Sorry.
When Carol gets Grandpa into his chair, I whisper to Daire, “He can’t be touched by people he doesn’t know. It could set him off.”
“I understand.”
I still feel like a dick. I probably embarrassed him, and he was only trying to help.
“I’m sorry about this. I’ll get ready quickly, and we can go.”
