Page 104 of Sweet Caroline
“Couldn’t wait to see her at school Monday morning,” he says simply.
The corner of my lips lifts, and I can’t help but cast my gaze to Caroline, catching a flicker of something like understanding in her eyes when they meet mine.
“Nancy would always tear a strip off me for taking the risk,” George continues. “Risking waking up her parents, that is. But I could tell she was just as happy to see me as I was her.”
“See, but that’s romantic,” Caroline says, propping her chin on her fist. “Sounds more sweet than mischievous.”
“Oh, don’t give me too much credit,” he cautions, picking up his fork again. “I also enjoyed getting a glimpse of my girl in her nightgown, if I’m honest.”
Caroline’s jaw drops. “Grandpa!”
I point at George and throw a knowing look her way. “See? Boobs.”
She knees me under the table and I flinch. “Hey!”
We return to our food, exchanging a few casual comments between comfortable silences. It’s nice having a family meal like this. Jude and Olena have me over for dinner often enough, but sometimes I feel like a third wheel—or like they’re trying to check up on me by inviting me around.
“How did you know Grandma wasthe one?” Caroline asks George out of nowhere.
Don’t say boobs. Don’t say boobs. Don’t say boobs.
“Oh! Well…” he starts, taking a moment to think before he finally says, “I suppose I just knew, darling. No question in my mind. It was easy with her. I was always happiest when we were together and, when we were apart, well, I was always thinking about her.”
“So, you two were together a long time, then,” I say, doing some rough mental math. “If you got together in high school, that’s what?—?”
“Seventy years.” He nods. “Sixty-five married.”
“Wow,” I say, raising my brows in genuine awe.
“My first love and my only love.” George straightens in his seat. “When you find a good thing, you don’t let it go. Even during hard times, you make it work. You know, when I was stationed in Korea, we’d write to each other every chance we got. I carried a picture of her in my breast pocket. Told her in my letters she had me on cloud nine… when, really, I took her up to cloud nine with me.” He pats his chest, giving me a wink.
Catching his meaning, I ask, “Air Force?”
He nods. “Flew an F-86 Sabre in ’52.”
Under normal circumstances, I’d have a thousand questions about what it’s like to be a fighter pilot, but all I can do is give him a small smile—hoping like hell my face doesn’t give me away. That it’s not obvious I’m thinking about his granddaughter.
When you find a good thing, you don’t let it go.
“I know you miss her.” Caroline reaches out to squeeze George’s hand. “I do too.”
The emotion in her eyes is raw. I can’t know for sure what’s going through her head right now—whether her grandfather’s words have also hitheron a deeper level—but the only thought running a loop in mine is: I don’t want to let her go. I don’t want to fuckingmissher.
Stuffing another bite of spaghetti into my mouth for something else to focus on, I try to let them have a moment. Try not to stare.
Gus had called me out just this morning for staring at Caroline across the gym, reminding me not to let him drop the barbell on his throat when I was spotting him on the bench. I told him to fuck off, of course—but he wasn’t wrong. He could tell from the dopey look on my face what I’ve been trying not to admit to myself: I’m gone for this girl.So fucking gone.
Caroline excuses herself to use the bathroom and I stand to clear our plates, almost grateful for the interruption so I can get a handle on my thoughts.
I’m busy rinsing a few dishes at the sink when George sneaks up on me.
“Oh, hey, I got this,” I say. “You didn’t need to get up.”
“Nonsense. I may be slow, but if I sit around all day like a lump, I’ll go batty.” He parks his walker and shifts his grip to the counter beside me. “Now, you pass me whatever you’ve got there, and I’ll load the dishwasher.”
“Okay,” I start, then pause when I realize I’m not sure how to word what I want to say next. “Uh, this might sound weird, but you seem so… different… than Caroline’s mom.” I pass him a dripping plate. “I mean, from what I know of her, anyway.”
I’d only briefly crossed paths with Valerie at the fundraiser, but the impression I got has been tough to square with this sweet old man offering his help with the dishes. It’s easy to forget she’s George’s daughter—especially knowing she chose to marry a judgmental ass like Pete Brennan.
