Page 32 of Sweet Spot
11
Lincoln
I walkthrough Gram’s door a half hour early. It’s a first, and I catch her checking the time on the microwave before she speaks. “Lincoln, what are you doing here so early?”
“Can’t a man show up early to help his grandmother with dinner?”
“Hecould, but I can’t remember the last time he did.”
“Well, I’m here now.” I put the wine on the counter and push up my sleeves. “What can I do?”
She laughs. “Pour me a glass and grab the rose plates from the top shelf in the china cabinet.”
I grab two wine goblets, fill them, and take a drink of mine before her request sinks in. “The rose plates? We only use those on special occasions.”
They were a wedding gift from her mother, and I can count the number of times she’s used them on one hand. Most notably her and Pop’s fiftieth wedding anniversary and five Christmases ago when we first found out he had cancer.
“I made a vow this year that I would use the things that bring me joy more often. I’m not going to be around forever, you know?”
“Really, Gram? Playing the death card?” I cross my arms over my chest and wait for the real reason we’re busting out her precious china.
“Also, I invited my friend Margie and her granddaughter over for dinner.”
I groan.
She rolls her eyes, the second woman to do that to me today. “You act as if having dinner with a pretty young woman is the worst way you could spend a Saturday night.”
She turns her back to me, stirring something on the stove, and I move to the china cabinet and pull down the rose plates.
“I’m in no position to date right now.”
“You keep saying that, and I keep ignoring it.”
I chuckle, well aware she’s ignoring me. I can’t figure out how to make her understand that I don’t have anything to offer at the moment.
“Listen, honey, I know Lacey made you feel like it was all your fault that things didn’t work out, but that’s rubbish. She was just as much at fault.”
“Eh . . .”
“She was. Marriage is hard work, but dating doesn’t have to be. Have dinner with Sweetie and just try to enjoy yourself, that’s all I’m asking.”
“Sweetie? Her name is Sweetie?”
There’s a knock at the door and Gram scans the place quickly. “Everyone’s early tonight. Get the door, will you?” She turns back to the stove, and I shake my head.
“This is the last time,” I tell her quietly over my shoulder. “No more setups. I mean it. I’ll stop coming over.”
She hums a response that I’m pretty sure is her total disregard for such a threat. And she’s probably right. I’ll keep coming back, hoping one of these times the girl at the door will make me believe Gram’s optimistic outlook.
Sweetie turns out to be the perfect name for the woman sitting across from me. She’s blonde with blue eyes and a soft, syrupy-sweet voice. Everything about her says feminine, right down to the light pink dress she’s wearing and the pearls around her neck.
It’s impossible to dislike her or not enjoy myself, but there’s absolutely zero chance she and I would work out. I’m a grumpy asshole, and this woman looks as if she’d burst into tears if I so much as looked at her the wrong way.
If I do ever start dating again, it’ll be with someone who can take my shit and call me on it. Like Keira does. Or did. Since we started working together, she’s less vocal. The girl was holding back so many words today I thought she was gonna bite her tongue off.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, but I know Gram will be pissed if I take a call at the table. A few minutes later, though, Sweetie’s phone rings.
“Oh, good gracious. I am so sorry. I forgot to turn this thing off,” she says as she rummages through her purse and pulls out her phone. She bites her lip as she looks at the screen and then gives Gram and Marge big, puppy dog eyes. “I’m so sorry. I have to take this.” Then she looks at me. “I’ll be right back.”
