Page 17 of Saffron and Secrets

“But I still felt awful. You should have seen him, crouched over in pain. And when he could open his eyes, they were so red and raw. And then he told me I had to go to coffee with him to make up for it.”

Grandma grabs the cups so I grab the tea bags and put them in the cups.

She smiles. “Ohhh, so he asked you on a date?”

“No. Calm down.” I giggle, walking to get the creamer from the fridge.

“It sounds like it was a date.” She murmurs, as I pour the creamer in both the cups.

“I barely know him,” I argue. It’s more to myself than to her. I’m reminding myself I need to take it slow.

Cradling the cup, I take a sip, enjoying the warm, milky drink.

“So what? Growing up, I met your grandfather, and after a week, my family married us off. That was how it was done.”

Meeting her gaze, I explain, “It's different now. You get to marry who you want, who you love, and who you want to spend your time with.”

“I get that, but what I’m saying is that you don’t need to worry about how long you've known each other before you get together or marry.”

“No marriage! That’s not going to happen. Now there’s something else he mentioned that I want to discuss with you, though.”

“Yeah?” she says as she takes her cup over to the table to sit down, and I follow her, taking my tea to join her.

“We went to get coffee, and he told me about James, his boss. He had given him a contact for an investigator. He could arrange it if I want this matter to be investigated further.”

“That’s kind of them. I hope you said yes, dear.”

I nod. “I think that it’s a good idea because I just hate this weird feeling I'm getting, and the fact I pepper sprayed him, it's just so embarrassing. Like I can't be spraying everyone and staying freaked out all my life.”

“Well, that’s fair enough. I hope they find this person responsible. I can’t have something happening to my favorite granddaughter.”

I sip my tea and answer with a smile, “You mean your only one.”

“Exactly.”

“Anyway, I'll see what he comes back with. He said we should meet at the same coffee shop before we pick up our flowers next week.”

She smiles, and her eyes are sparkling with excitement. “Another date. This is exciting.”

“Calm down. I'm not about to marry him.”

“I didn't say that, dear.” She smirks as she sips her tea, the smell of the cake filling the house.

I sit watching her, knowing she's already picturing a wedding in her head.

“Well, if you don’t get married, let’s hope you get laid.”

My mouth drops open, horrified. “What?”

“Maybe that would help you with stress. There’s nothing wrong with being hot and heavy with a handsome guy. And you wouldn't be like this if he was not tall, dark, and handsome. That's your type, right?”

I know she remembers what my ex looks like, and I can’t deny I have a type.

“Yes, but—”

She cuts me off. “But nothing, sweetheart. You need to go and live. You're young, fit, and healthy, so go and bang him senseless.”

She never stops amazing me. I am mortified, and when I find my voice, I say, “I’m just meeting him so he can tell me what the investigator finds. That's it! There will be no banging or getting laid or whatever other word you want to use about it. There is none of that going down. Thank you very much.”

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