Romantically Perfect: A Friends to Lovers Romantic Comedy (Perfectly Imperfect Love Series Book 3)

by S. E. Rose

  Me: Wait? What?

  Lanie: Oh yeah, your nephew just announced your debacle to everyone.

  Me: FML!

  Lanie: Yeah, that’s one way to put it. I’d exit stage right ASAP

  Me: Leaving now.

  I find Garrett in the kitchen, being force-fed candy corn by my mom. “I need to leave. Come on,” I say to him, grabbing his hand and hauling him out of the house.

  “Oh, uh, thanks, Mrs. Moore!” he calls out as we leave.

  “What the hell? I was talking to your mom,” he mutters.

  “You can talk another time. I have to go somewhere, and I need my car.” I turn to him. “Wait, I can walk if you want to stay.”

  He shrugs. “No, I’ll drive you home.”

  “OK, thanks.”

  The next three minutes are full of awkward silence as Garrett takes me home. When he pulls up to my place, I go to get out, but he grabs my hand. “We need to talk.”

  I nod. “I know. Just…not today.”

  “Di…”

  “Not today,” I repeat as I get out of the car and sprint to my apartment. I need to get my head on straight.

  Garrett

  What the hell just happened? I think to myself as I drive home.

  I can still taste Di’s lips, her strawberry-flavored lip gloss is still on my lips. Fuck me. Maybe I shouldn’t have done that.

  I press “call” on my handsfree and dial Adam.

  “Dude, it’s Saturday night,” he answers.

  “Whatever. Like you aren’t at your house blowing shit up on some video game,” I point out.

  “Point being?”

  “I need advice.”

  The sounds of the video game are suddenly muted.

  “What?”

  I groan. “I kissed her.”

  “You kissed who?”

  “Di! I kissed Di!” I yell.

  “Dude, calm the fuck down. You kissed Di?”

  “Yep.”

  “Fuck. How was it?”

  “Seriously?”

  “OK, calm your fucking jets. Tell me what happened,” he says.

  I launch into the story of what just occurred and then sit and wait for his thoughts. He’s quiet after I finish, too quiet.

  “Adam?” I say tentatively.

  “Yeah, just processing it.”

  “Oh.”

  “Well, fuck. I mean, you like her. You admitted that already. So, why not kiss her? Now you know that you are sexually in tune with one another.”

  “Sexually in tune?” I repeat.

  “Yeah, like the bedroom stuff would be good. So, that’s a check in the relationship column. And you are good at hanging out together. Another check. Why don’t you two just do it and get it over with?”

  I roll my eyes. “Adam, I’m going to go because this shitty conversation is not helping me.”

  “Hey, you called me.”

  “I know,” I say as I run a hand over my face. “Go back to blowing shit up.”

  “Fine, but seriously go tap that ass. If you don’t, I will. Di is hot as fuck.”

  “No, you won’t,” I growl.

  “See, you do like her. You’re welcome,” he says as he disconnects the call.

  I sit in my car in my driveaway muttering to myself about how I got into this predicament. I need to figure my shit out and fast.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Di

  “We’re going on a road trip,” Gran Tilly announces after I spill my guts to her.

  “I’m sorry, we’re what?”

  “Go pack an overnight bag. We’re going somewhere.”

  “Gran, I…” I look at my grandmother like she might have finally lost her mind.

  She throws her hands up in the air. “Child, I haven’t lost my mind. You need this. Trust me. I might be old as fuck, but I also sort of know a thing or two. And I also know that tomorrow you don’t have school.”

  “Gran. I know you’re smart. But, I mean, where are we going? Are we driving?”

  “Di, calm down. We aren’t going across the country. Hold on, one sec.” She pulls out her cell phone and dials a number.

  “Dotty? Hey, hon! You all have a spare room for the night? Yeah, I was gonna bring Di out there. She needs a little perspective.” She chuckles and I lean on the kitchen island and watch her. Gran Tilly is such a cool woman. I hope I’m half as cool as her when I grow up, I mean, like really grow up because whatever I’m doing right now is not adulting. “Great. Yeah, give us a few hours, Di has to pack. OK. See you soon. Bye-bye.”

  She hangs up and looks over at me. “Go pack and come pick me up in an hour.”

  “Gran, where are we going?”

  She winks at me. “Smith Island.”

  My eyes widen. “Seriously? But…why?”

  She laughs. “Just go pack. I’ll explain on the way. We can stay at my friend Dotty’s place.”

  I stand gaping at her.

  “Di, get a move on or my waterman friend will leave us in Crisfield.”

  “Gran, it’s already seven thirty, it’s gonna be super late when we get there.”

  “What? You have a new bedtime of nine?”

  I roll my eyes. “No.”

  “Well, then, I think we’ll be OK.”

  I snap out of it and nod as I walk out of her home and get in my car. I make the short drive to my apartment; my mind is going a mile a minute.

  Smith Island. Gran Tilly’s parents were from there. I’ve only been once or twice. It’s a pretty cool island out in the Chesapeake Bay. It’s secluded and unlike anywhere else in the state, hell, in the world. Her family is one of a few families that founded the island back in the 1600s. Yeah, you heard that right, the sixteen hundreds. Gran Tilly always told stories about growing up there as a girl.

  I run inside and grab an overnight bag, stuffing a few things in it as Larry, Curly, and Moe lounge on my bed.

  “OK, Curly, you are in charge. I’m filling up your automatic food feeder, so don’t give me that sad-cat crap.” Moe meows at me and rolls over. I rub his belly as he lies spread eagle on my bed. “You are so pathetic! Seriously, little dude!” He meows again and stretches so he looks like a giant starfish. I shake my head and give them each a kiss and pat before heading back down to my car. Tossing my bag on the back seat, I hit call on my phone’s Bluetooth.

  “Call Mother Hen,” I say out loud.

  “What’s up?” she answers.

  “Gran is taking me on an overnight adventure. I just figured I should make sure someone knew we were leaving Dodge.”

  “Noted. Why? And where?”

  “No idea and Smith Island,” I reply as I turn onto Gran’s road.

  “Smith Island? Right now?” My sister's voice mirrors the surprise I’m feeling.

  “Yep,” I say, letting the “p” pop.

  “OK,” she replies slowly. “Uh, have fun?”

  “I’ll have something.”

  She giggles. “Well, drive safely, anyhow, and call me if you need me.”

  “Later,” I say as I hang up and pull up to Gran’s house. Gran’s already sitting on a bench on her front porch. A small bag at her feet and her purse next to her.

  She gets up and comes over to the car before I have time to get out of it.

  “Let’s get a move on, time’s a-wasting,” she says as she tosses her bag next to mine and climbs in the passenger seat.

  Gran makes herself at home in my car, switching my music to her playlist. Imagine a sampling of every hit between 1955 and 1975. Can’t imagine it? Then look it up because that’s what’s happening right now. I’m immersed in Motown at the moment. Gran’s rocking it, snapping her fingers, and singing along. I start laughing as I pull onto I-97.

  “Gran, you gonna tell me why we are driving to the ends of Maryland for one night?” I finally inquire after she says nothing for the first twenty minutes of the drive.

  She lowers the volume and turns to me. “You need a family history lesson.”

  I sigh
. “Gran, I know our family history. Remember, I’ve been to Smith Island like twice.”

  “True, but not like this.”

  “Not like how?”

  She turns in her seat and looks at me. “Did I ever tell you how I met your grandfather?”

  “Yep.”

  “How?”

  “Gran, seriously, you’re quizzing me on your love life?”

  I see her give me a pointed look out of the corner of my eye. “Fine,” I huff, “you met Grandpa Lou on the ferry.”

  “True, but there’s more to the story than that. And that’s why we are going to Smith Island. That, and I haven’t been in forever. It’ll be fun.”

  I roll my eyes. My grandmother just totally hoodwinked me into taking her on an overnight to visit friends. I want to smack my forehead. I’m such a gullible idiot.

  Whatever, I’ll make the best of it, I mean, how often does a girl go on a road trip with her eighty-three-year-old grandmother.

  Gran pats my leg. “Don’t look so flustered, Di. Have fun! It’s a girls’ trip!”

  I chuckle. “OK.”

  “I’m serious. Here, put on something you’d like to hear, that’ll get you in the mood,” she urges as she unhooks her phone from my car’s sound system.

  I press play on my favorite playlist and start to jam. Eventually, we are both singing along to lyrics and bobbing our heads to the music. I smile at Gran and she smiles back at me. The moonlight hits the water of the Chesapeake as we go over the Bay Bridge.

  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Gran says, her voice thick with memories.

  “Yes, it really is.”

  “Your grandfather just loved the bay,” she adds as she looks wistfully back out of the car window. I can see a lifetime of memories filling her mind as I drive us over to the Eastern Shore.

  It takes us another two hours to get to Crisfield. I pull up to the marina and park the car. I glance at the time.

  “Uh, so you have a friend picking us up?” I ask her. There’s a ferry that runs to Smith Island but not at ten at night on a Saturday.

  “Yep, let’s get a move on,” she says as she gets out and grabs her bag.

  I follow her over to a fishing boat. The captain who is standing on deck looks over at us and grins. He’s old, maybe only a few years younger than Gran and he has a beard that would make Santa Claus jealous.

  “Well, look what the cat dragged in,” he says and hugs her.

  “Doug, how are you?”

  “I’m alright. What’s got you out here so late?”

  She pats his hand. “This is my granddaughter, Di. She and I are going to visit Dotty for the night.”

  “Well, that sounds like trouble,” he says as he heads over to push us off from the pier.

  We settle into seats at a small table in the cabin. It takes about an hour to get to the small town that Gran called home once upon a time. She tells me funny stories about taking the ferry to school as a girl since there weren’t any schools on the island. I listen, remembering some stories from before but enjoying a few new ones. Doug pipes in here and there with other funny stories. His older sister was good friends with Gran.

  When we arrive, there’s a woman about Gran’s age in a giant golf cart with four seats.

  “Tilly?” the woman calls out as she waves.

  “Dotty? How the heck are you?” Gran says as I help her off the boat. The two women hug, and I watch with a grin. I wonder how often Gran talks to her friends that still live here. Doug bids us goodnight and drives his boat over to a nearby pier. I turn my attention back to Dotty.

  “Oh my! Di, you certainly have grown up to be a beautiful young woman,” Dotty says. I furrow my brows trying to remember her from my visits, but I can’t.

  “You don’t remember me, do ya?” she says with a laugh.

  I shake my head, feeling the color creep up my face. “No. I’m sorry, I haven’t been here for a very long time.”

  She laughs. “Don’t worry, last time I saw you, you were barely up to my boobs.”

  Dotty pats the seat next to her and Gran sits down, placing her luggage in between them. I hop in the back and off we go. There are some lights on in various buildings, but aside from that, the island is quiet as we drive down the streets.

  It only takes about two minutes to get to Dotty’s house. Dotty and Gran chat the whole way. The house is a small Cape Cod-style home, one block from where the fishermen all have their crab shanties set up on the waterfront.

  Dotty shows us inside. She points to a small guest room with two twin beds.

  “You ladies all set? Help yourself to anything from the kitchen. As much as I want to stay up and chat, I’m gonna fall asleep upright if I don’t get to bed,” she says. She turns to Gran. “We’ll catch up more over coffee in the morning.”

  “Sounds good. Thanks again for putting up with us,” Gran says to her old friend.

  Dotty shushes her with a hand and walks down the hallway to what I presume must be her bedroom.

  Gran shuts the door. We get settled in our pajamas. Gran still wears a nightgown which I find oddly comforting as if it’s something I can always depend upon.

  I walk into the bathroom next door and brush my teeth before getting in the far bed. Once we are both settled, Gran turns off the lights.

  “Is Dotty married?” I ask. My voice sounding so loud in the expanse of the dark room. The only sound is the lapping waves of the bay and the occasional dog barking.

  “She was. Fred passed away about two years ago. He had cancer.”

  “Oh,” I reply. “Gran?”

  “Someone got her second wind,” Gran says with a laugh.

  “Sorry, are you tired?”

  “No, no, sweetie. Plus, it’s nice to have time to chat with you.”

  I smile. “It is nice spending time with you too.” I pause. “Is it…is it hard with so many of your friends gone?”

  “It’s just part of life, Di. If you live a good long life, then you’ll also lose most of the ones you love. But I have all of you, so that keeps me happy.”

  “I bet you miss Grandpa Louis,” I say softly.

  “Every day.”

  She’s quiet and I feel bad for bringing up such sad memories.

  “Are you going to tell me why you brought me here?” I ask her.

  “Tomorrow.”

  “Love you, Gran Tilly,” I say as I turn over and snuggle down into the cool cotton sheets.

  “Love you too, my sweet girl.”

  I smile again, knowing that I’ll remember this moment for the rest of my life. In a big family, you don’t always get one-on-one time with people, so having Gran to myself all night and tomorrow is a rarity that I will always treasure.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The sunlight streaming into the room wakes me the next morning. I roll over to find that Gran’s bed is vacant. I can hear murmured voices in the distance and the smell of coffee hits my nostrils as I take a deep breath.

  I roll out of bed and follow the whispering. As I peek my head around the corner, I find Dotty and Gran Tilly sitting at the kitchen table. They are animatedly chatting about someone. I stand and watch them for the longest few seconds, just enjoying clear affection between these two old friends. I silently wonder if Bai and the girls will be like that with me when we are little old ladies.

  “You gonna get in here and have coffee or just stand there and watch us,” Gran Tilly says without missing a beat.

  I bite my lip and step into the room, taking a chair next to Gran. Dotty stands while still talking about someone named Bubba. She pours me a cup of coffee and sets it down in front of me. I thank her and she continues with the story.

  After more cups of coffee, I can safely say that Gran and I are caught up on all the island gossip. I turn to Gran. “So, what’s the plan for today?”

  “Let’s go for a walk,” she says. “We’ll be back for lunch, Dotty, before we head home.”

  “OK, then. You ladies have a nice walk.�
��

  I nod and go grab the world’s fastest shower. Once I’m changed, Gran greets me by the front door. We walk down the street. Gran saying the occasional hello. Everyone greets us, and a few people stop and chat with Gran.

  She stops after we’ve walked about a half mile. “Did I ever tell you about my parents?”

  “Beatrice and George?” I ask.

  She nods.

  “Yeah, a little.”

  She points to an old house. It’s sort of run-down. It doesn’t look like it’s been lived in for a long time.

  “That was their house. I still own the land, but after Lou died, I haven’t fixed it up.” She leans against a nearby tree, and I lean against the one next to it.

  “Mom loved romance too, did you know that?” she asks me. I shake my head. “She was always wanting to have a boyfriend and reading romance novels. Dad was from Crisfield. He came to work on a boat for the summer and ended up staying. He was a real ladies' man. Didn’t want to settle down. Mom thought he was…what do you kids call it now…a male whore?”

  “Man whore,” I correct, trying not to laugh.

  “Right. So, she dismissed him. He wasn’t all into her either because she kept talking about, as he used to put it, ‘ridiculous love crap.’ Anyhow, one night, a big storm was brewing, I think it was a hurricane. Everyone was battening down the hatches and getting stuff ready. Somehow, Mom’s dog got its collar tangled, and a boat knocked him into the water. Dad jumped in and saved him. They ended up working together to get the boats prepared for the storm along with others. By the end of the night, Dad said he just knew she was the one. And Mom knew that Dad was more than just a man whore, although that’s not the phrase she used.” Gran Tilly gives a little laugh.

  She pushes off the tree and walks through tall grasses until we get to a very old tree in front of the house. She runs her hand over it, and I notice there are initials carved in it.

  “Are those…” I trail off as I look at my great-grandparents’ initials.

  “Yep. Dad carved it in the tree the next day and declared he was going to buy this house for Mom. And two years later, they were married, and he bought the house. It was a nice place to grow up. Island life is different out here. Slower.”