Page 35 of Golden Hour

“Are you going to throw the flowers away too?” Papa asks.

“No,” I say, touching the soft petals. “They’re too pretty. We’ll just pretend it was one of your friends from bingo. Who is your favorite?”

“Gloria,” Papa says immediately.

“Who is Gloria?”

“A lady. A very nice lady.”

“Ooh, do you have a girlfriend, Papa?”

“I’m too old to have a girlfriend,” he says, taking his glasses off to rub the bridge of his nose. My grandmother died five years ago, and I know he misses her. I miss her. She burnt popcorn in the microwave every time we visited. We used to watchE.T.constantly and play Rummy tiles. Sometimes, I think about the fact she never saw her daughter finally get sober. How proud she would be of us.

Still, I could cry seeing my grandpa getting butterflies about someone new.

I had them today when Jackson looked at me.

“Papa, what do you know about Jackson Finch?”

He blows out a whistling breath. “That’s a doozy, girlie.”

“Is he a good guy? He came on the owner-surrender with me.”

“He did?” Papa’s bushy eyebrows knit together in confusion.

“We’re getting to know each other. We’re friends,” I say.

“You are? Are we talking about the same Jackson Finch?”

I shake my head. “It was Jackson. Ponytail, glasses.”

Papa shakes his head. “Stay away from him, girlie.”

“Is he a bad man?”

“No, I don’t think so. He’s just an uphill battle. Pastor Williams and his wife, Marla, have been trying to reach out. Nicest people you’d ever meet. He won’t talk to them.”

I want to ask why, but I feel like it will crack open all the gossip about Jackson.

As curious as I am, I want to hear it from him.

My phone buzzes. Before I dropped Jackson off at the brewery, we exchanged phone numbers.

Jackson:I’m going out with my siblings. We’re doing karaoke. This is your fault :puke smiley face:

I hold up my phone. “Jackson is going out with his siblings. To karaoke. He’s getting better.”

Papa’s eyebrows raise. “That’s interesting.”

I shoot him a text back, a GIF response of an enthusiastic thumbs-up.

“He’s trying to change. To be better,” I say.

“I hope so. Just don’t want you to get your hopes up. He’s not all there,” Papa says.

“I won’t. There’s not a chance of anything romantic happening between us.”

“Good. What are we doing for dinner? How about we go out?” That’s the great thing about my grandpa. He lets things go quickly.

---