by Lily Kate
“Did you miss this place when you left?”
“Let’s just say that I didn’t have a lot holding me here.”
“And now that you’re back?”
Cohen ignores the question, peers into his cup. An adorable little frown appears at the sight of one lone marshmallow there. “I could drink this for days.”
“Are you sad to be home?”
I should stop prying, but I can’t help myself. I’ll never admit it to him, but not five minutes before he’d serenaded me outside the window, I’d had an article pulled up with his face on it. Research.
“I’m indifferent. Except for the damn weather. My blood’s thin, and I feel the cold.”
“I’ll bet.”
“I do love skating on the lakes though. First time I’ve done that in a few years.”
My worst nightmare. I cringe outwardly at the thought of ice skating, but I recover quickly and pepper him with more questions so I don’t have to think about it. “You never came back to visit?”
“I did, but like I said, I hadn’t left much when I went away.”
“Your parents are—”
“Just me and my dad,” he says.
“Oh, that’s fun!” I’m trying to be peppy, but he doesn’t seem to be interested. “Just two guys hanging out?”
“Sure,” he says shortly, without an explanation. “A real joy. So, have you been reading more about me? How’d you know I just moved back?”
My face burns. He already knows I don’t follow hockey. If I did, I’d have recognized him on the first day of class. So I ignore the question and fire back with my own. “Why are you always doing stupid stuff?”
“Stupid stuff?”
“It’s like you’re looking for trouble.” I shrug my shoulders, well aware that I’m playing with fire. “In the last year alone, you’ve been involved in a bar fight, serenaded your teammate naked, mouthed off to the press, and fired your agent.”
“The agent was a crook, the reporter an asshole, the bar fight a necessity, and the serenading...” He pauses and graces me with a light-hearted smile. “That was just for fun.”
“How can a bar fight ever be a necessity?”
“If you’d seen someone steal your best friend’s fiancée’s purse right out from under her nose, what would you do?”
I look down at my own arms. “Call the police?”
He grins. “Yeah, well, I forgot the number. And they wouldn’t have been faster than my fist.”
“Ah, I see.” I sit back in the chair, crossing my arms and layering on the sarcasm. “So it’s all a giant misunderstanding? You’re not a troublemaker at all—really, you’re just one giant teddy bear out to save the world?”
“Well...” He gestures toward his attire. “I do have a Superman robe.”
It doesn’t take a genius to figure out he’s dodging the question. I should just let it go. I’ve already decided that getting involved with him is just not an option. Not at this point in my life.
But there’s something bothering me about him, as if there’s more to him than meets the eye. I get the feeling he’s a tough nut to crack. Not that I’m thinking about nuts.
“What do you want me to tell you?” Cohen’s face flashes with a whisper of frustration. “I don’t have a good answer for you, Annie.”
“It’s not that hard of a question,” I say. “I’m just trying to understand.”
He shrugs. “Do you want some sob story? Does it make it easier for you to understand me if I tell you that my dad has always preferred to drink beer instead of watching my hockey games? He’s never seen me play in person. Does it make it better to know my mom walked away from us when I was a baby?”
“Cohen, I didn’t mean—”
“Sometimes a person doesn’t fit into a neat little box, Annie.” He stands up, carrying his hot chocolate cup to the sink. “I’m sorry it’s not black and white for you.”
“I’m not trying to upset you. You’re the one who showed up here in the middle of the night. You’re the one who’s trying so hard to get us together. I’m just trying to understand why.”
“I’m beginning to wonder the same thing.” Turning to face me, he gives a shake of his head. “Maybe it is a mistake. I’ve never in my life worked so hard to try and get a girl to dinner. Especially one I’m supposed to be professional with.”
“That still doesn’t answer my question.”
“It just feels worth it to me.”
“Worth it?”
“You’re different. There is so much more to you than any woman I’ve ever met. Of course you’re beautiful. But I also really enjoy talking to you. Being around you. Hearing what you think about things. What am I supposed to do, sit back and let someone else ask you out first?”
“Oh.”
“Look, I’m sorry. I should be heading home so you can get back to... whatever you were doing.”
The robe is open now, and I realize he’s got jeans and a sweater on underneath. More practical than I expected.
I grudgingly gesture toward his body. “The robe is a nice touch.”
Cohen’s already turned to leave, but he stops in the doorway. “Humor me, Annie. Why do you dislike me so much?”
“I don’t dislike you, I’m just... I’m not at a place where I want to date.” My hands circle the hot chocolate mug for strength. “I have a lot on my plate—I’m graduating, my mom’s getting remarried, I’m going to law school in the fall. I don’t need any distractions.”
“And that’s all you imagine I would be?”
“It’s not you, Cohen. I’d turn down anyone right now.”
“Really?” Skepticism is written on his face. “Anyone?”
My hesitation is a second too long.
“I see.” He nods. “Girls like you don’t mix with guys like me. I understand.”
“No, Cohen, I just have to focus on studying and working and... I don’t have time to goof off.”
“Have a nice night, Annie. See you next week.”
“That came out wrong!” I call after him. “I didn’t mean you’re... a joke or something.”
“It’s fine.” He pauses at the door and gives a tight smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m the one who showed up here unannounced. You don’t have to apologize for anything.”
“Please don’t be mad.”
“I’m not mad in the slightest.”
“Upset?”
“Goodnight, Annie.”
He’s gone, out the door and into a sleek car parked at the curb. When he gets into it and pulls away, there’s a strange tightness in my chest, and a sinking feeling in my gut. I might not want to date the man, but I didn’t want to hurt him, either.
“Well, that went well, huh?” Gran asks, coming up from behind me. She reaches for my shoulder and gives a squeeze. She’s stronger than she looks. “Come upstairs, honey. I’d like to tell you a story.”
Chapter 19
ANNIE
Gran has us both in green aloe masks with cucumbers over our eyeballs in a few minutes. She’s brought up a pot of tea, a couple of teacups, and a small jar of honey arranged on a cute silver tray.
“Comfortable?” she asks as I squirm into position.
“Not really. My skin feels like it’s splitting off my face, and the cucumbers are frozen solid, and—”
“Beauty is pain, darling.”
“I thought we were past the days of getting all dolled up for men.”
“Whatever made you think this was about men?” Gran turns toward me, both of us peeking out from under the cucumbers. “This isn’t about men at all. This is about pampering yourself.”
I lay back and close my eyes. I’m annoyed, and it’s not fair to take things out on Gran—she’s just trying to help. I’m not happy with how things ended with Cohen.
“What happened downstairs?” Gran asks. “It seemed like you two were getting along so well.”
“Don’t pretend you weren’t eavesdropping.”
&nbs
p; “I heard the ending, and that was enough awkward for me.”
“I didn’t say anything wrong!”
“Okay then, dear. Whatever you say.”
I fall silent, replaying the conversation in my head. “Was I a jerk?”
“You tell me.”
I sit up and pop the cucumbers off my eyelids. “I didn’t try to hurt him.”
“I know that, dear.”
“He really shouldn’t care what I think. We barely know each other.”
“He hasn’t tried to kiss you?” Gran readjusts a cucumber so that it rests on her forehead. “Seems like there’s chemistry.”
“How’d you guess about the kiss?”
“I’m old. I know these things.” Gently, she removes the other cucumber from her eye and sits up straighter. She preens, glancing at a set of shiny red toes before stretching her arms and letting out a long, loud yawn. “It’s clear the two of you like each other, so why don’t you let him take you out on a date?”
“I don’t like him.” I mean to say this firmly, but it comes out a little stuttery. “I can’t like him.”
“Whyever not?”
“Because...” I trail off, my cheeks burning at the way my conversation with Cohen ended. “I have my reasons.”
“Because women like you don’t date guys like him?” Gran raises an eyebrow at me. “I can guarantee that’s the way he heard it.”
“I tried to clarify! That’s not what I meant.”
“Men are stubborn, among other things. He heard it one way, so it’ll be hard to convince him otherwise.”
“Well, he’s not my type, anyway. I’d prefer someone more like Gramps.” I lapse into silence. It feels like yesterday he was here, reading beside me, the two of us sharing my Gran’s perfect hot chocolate by the fireplace. “Grandpa was smart and gentle, mostly. Kind. Really funny when he felt like it.”
“He was, wasn’t he?” Gran’s smile is paper thin on her lips. Her eyes, however, hold a burst of starlight in them. “He was something else.”
“He wasn’t like Cohen.”
“What’s Cohen like?”
“Cohen is...” I try to think of something to prove my point, but I can’t.
The first picture that pops into my mind is the one from this morning during swimming lessons. He’d taken one of the babies in his class and splashed around the pool, singing songs and making silly faces.
It was odd seeing Cohen like that, in a different element. Gentle, despite his playful grin and colorful arms littered with tattoos.
I feel my face flush. Gran’s watching as all of these thoughts flash across my face, and I force myself to stop thinking about him.
“I see,” Gran says. “No need to say more.”
“He’s... he doesn’t have a stable job. He travels a lot for hockey, so he’ll be gone all the time. One day he won’t be able to play anymore—what then? And he does dumb things!”
“Like serenading you on the street in a Superman robe?”
“Yes!”
“He has a horrible voice,” Gran says. “Truly awful.”
“Terrible.”
“Is that everything?” Gran asks with a raised eyebrow. “Can I talk now?”
“Oh, um. Okay.”
“Your grandfather wasn’t always responsible.”
“Are we talking about the same guy? Gramps had everything organized down to his sock drawer. He wouldn’t ever stay out after nine p.m. on a work night. He paid the bills, went to work every day, came home every evening.”
“Yes, later in life. Once we had kids—your mother and her siblings—to think about.”
“My mother always told me that I shouldn’t expect a man to change. If he doesn’t treat me with respect before we’re married, then it’s only going to get worse after.”
“I agree one hundred percent.” Gran gives a nod. “Good advice from your mother.”
“Sorry, then I don’t understand your point.”
“What’s Cohen done to you? You don’t trust him?”
“He yanked my noodle out from underneath me on the first day of class.”
“Did he pull your pigtails, too?”
“It’s not that simple! You know I’m terrified of water.”
“He believed in you. If he didn’t care, he wouldn’t do anything at all—so what if he pushed you a little?”
“I hated it!”
“He made a mistake underestimating your fear of water. Did he apologize?”
“Well, yes—”
“Has he done it again?”
“No, but—”
“I’m not telling you whether you should let Cohen take you out on a date or not—that’s up to you, honey. What I am trying to tell you is that sometimes, men act out in certain ways, and it’s not a reflection of who they really are on the inside.”
“Are you trying to set me up with Cohen?”
“The day I met my husband was his first day out of jail.”
“What?” I gape at my grandmother. “Gramps?”
“Well, yes. I was only married once, of course.”
“But... he would never do anything to get put in jail.”
“I was a waitress at the diner near my parent’s house when we met. I remember the day like it was yesterday,” she says, sounding quite dreamy indeed. She ignores my expression of complete and utter shock. “Your grandfather waltzed into that diner with three bucks in his pocket. He didn’t have enough money to buy breakfast, so he bought a piping hot cup of coffee.”
“Jail?”
“I’m getting there! First, we got to talking. That’s how I learned that he’d gotten in with the wrong crowd of friends.”
“How have I not heard this story?”
“Let me finish!” Gran shushes. “He was hanging out with a couple of guys from high school. The others wanted to steal a twelve pack of beer from the local gas station. Your grandfather had no interest in breaking the law, so he stayed in the car.”
“Sounds more like grandpa to me.”
“But the idiots your grandfather had been hanging out with made a mistake. The cops came, caught them, and somehow, the blame landed on your grandfather. He was just eighteen, and the cops made him spend the night in jail as a lesson against shoplifting.”
“That is so unfair! Grandpa would never do anything like that.”
“This isn’t a lesson in the justice system, it’s a lesson in getting to know a person,” Gran says, playing with the stack of cucumbers on the tray next to her. “When your grandfather came to the diner, all I knew was that the man sitting there was as poor as dirt and fresh out of jail.”
“I can see how it was a little misleading.”
“It might have been, but when he asked if I’d sit down with him, I had to make a decision. Take a chance, or play things safe?”
“I’m guessing you took a chance?”
“I was working! I told him if he held onto his shorts, I’d join him for lunch.”
I cover my mouth with a hand and suppress a laugh. “Your first date was lunch, then?”
“It started there, but we talked straight through dinner, drinks, and a midnight coffee. A week later we were dating, six months later engaged.” She pauses to wipe her face with the back of her hand. “I never stopped loving him. I still do, honey. Some days, I find myself wishing he’d walk right through the door of that diner again so we could start over and do it all again.”
My eyes sting. I blink quickly, then struggle to swallow until I trust myself to speak. When the lump in my throat is nearly gone, I reach over and squeeze Gran’s hand. “I’m sorry.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry about. I spent over sixty years with a man I loved more than I ever thought possible. I’m not sure how many people can say that.” She clears her throat, leans over, and pops the pedicure toe separator onto the floor. “But I didn’t pull you up here to talk about me, believe it or not. I brought you in here to tell you my story, in case it means something to you.”
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br /> “What do you want me to say? I hardly know Cohen.”
“Your grandfather was a stranger the day he walked into the diner. If I’d told him that nice, hard-working girls like me didn’t date jailbirds like him, I would’ve never found my other half. If I hadn’t taken that chance, maybe you wouldn’t be here today.”
“How’d you know it was the right thing to do?”
“I didn’t know if it was right or wrong, but I did it anyway. All I knew was that there were little butterflies in my stomach when we started talking. They lasted—well, forever. I still have them when I think about the times we shared together.”
“That is so sweet.”
“Just because a person is spontaneous doesn’t make them irresponsible, and just because they make you heat up inside and feel like the world is flipping over every time you see them, it doesn’t mean they can’t be gentle. Kind. Honest.”
“I suppose.”
“Your Gramps taught me how to have fun, how to lighten up and enjoy the little things. I used to be uptight, you know. More uptight than him. We changed together.”
“Really?” I can’t picture my sparkling, tube-sock-wearing, thong-displaying grandmother being anything but vibrant. “I don’t believe it.”
“Your grandfather didn’t try to change me. The point of getting married, of sticking with one person for your whole life, is to learn these things together. To grow and change as a unit, not as an individual.”
“What if it’s too late for us to even have a chance? I think I pissed him off.”
“I don’t think you pissed him off, I think you hurt his feelings. He just didn’t want you to know that.”
“Oh, great. Even better.”
Gran grins. “Is he dead?”
“Uh, no?”
“Then it’s not too late!”
“I won’t see him for another week.”
“Well, then either you wait for a week, or you chase him down. We’re past the days of having to get dolled up for men.” Gran rolls her sleeves up and flexes her shiny new nails. “Get dolled up for yourself and go after what you want.”
Chapter 20
ANNIE
“You can’t possibly think this looks good, mom.” I’m hiding in the dressing room with a gown even uglier than my bathing suit hanging from my shoulders. I don’t know what it is with my mother and ruffles, but there are so many. A sea, and I’m drowning in them. “Tell me you were kidding when you sent this in the room with me.”