Page 135 of You're so Bad

“I’ve missed you too,” I admit. “But you were a real asshole for putting Nana through so much shit, and you left a mess for us to clean up.”

The present craft room, now green, suffered through an earlier life as a fish room. Before deciding his true love was a water aerobics instructor, Grandpa Frank had decided his second career would be to breed fish, so he’d bought a shit-ton of fish tanks and crammed them into that room in the basement. Only once the damage was done did he remember he didn’t like cleaning his ears, let alone his room, and twenty fish tanks was twenty too many. So, he left them all behind when he moved out.

He fidgets with his coffee, so at least he realizes he was a jerk. “I’m not proud of the way I handled that.” Then he glances up at me. “I’ve realized something over the past few months. I never really got over losing your mother. She was an unpleasant sort of person, but she was my daughter. I guess…I never wanted to talk about it with Constance, and then it got to a point where we weren’t talking about anything. That’s on me, since we both know your grandmother is a talker. If you’re not careful in a relationship, it can fall apart without you realizing it.”

“So you got it on with someone mom’s age because you felt sad about losing mom? I think Freud would have a lot to say about that.”

He makes a constipated face. “Your mother would have been sixty this year. Phoenix is in her mid-fifties.”

“Yikes, not a great argument, Grandpa Frank.”

“We don’t need to talk about Phoenix.”

“Thank God,” I say, pausing to swig some coffee.

If I’m not mistaken, there’s a twitch of humor to his pursed lips. “What about you? I’ve heard you’re seeing someone.”

“Yup, he’s a former criminal, and I’m madly in love with him.”

“Very funny.”

“I mean it, but we don’t have to talk about him either.”

His brow is furrowed, and for a second I think I gave him an aneurysm. Then he says, “Your grandmother condones you dating this man?”

“They’re best buddies, actually, but he’s taking a break from both of us because he’s decided he’s not good enough for us. What can you do?”

“Are you fucking with me?”

I pause and consider it for a second. “Sort of, but it’s also true.”

He takes a moment before speaking, probably wondering why he missed me all those a hundred and eighteen days. Then he shocks me by saying, “Well, if your grandmother approves, then I suppose I do too. She’s usually a pretty good judge of character.”

I’m about to tell him there’s one notable exception—him—but he’s being good to me. Fair to Leonard. So maybe it’s time for me to give him a break too.

Sighing, I say, “If you want me to meet Phoenix at some point, I will. But I’m not going to like it.”

“Okay.” He nods, his expression as readable as a rock’s. I know him, though. He’s pleased. Phoenix might not be too pleased if he ever takes me up on it, but that’s her problem. “And I look forward to meeting your criminal if you can work it out.”

I laugh softly, impressed that I still can manage it. “His name’s Leonard, and these days he runs a house-flipping business with his friend.”

“I like him better already. Now, why are we going to this wedding? Isn’t Bianca marrying that potato Colter?”

I laugh harder this time. “Yes, it’s going to be horrible, and I’m supposed to make a speech.”

“Thanks for the invitation,” he says, holding up his coffee cup for a cheers. “It’s the most exciting thing to have happened to me since I lost my shorts at water aerobics a couple of months ago.”

I bump my coffee cup with his, and something inside of me is healing even as it breaks. “I’m glad I asked.”

“What’s with the Grandpa Fruckface reference, by the way?” he asks.

“Oh, Nana changed your name on my phone when she was drunk.”

He gives an impressive nod-shrug combo. “I suppose I deserved that.”

Then he reaches down beside his chair and presents me with a gift bag.

“What’s that?” I ask, lifting a hand to my throat.

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