Junk Mail(50)

Just then, our nail experts return and escort us back to where the magic happens. I follow Gram’s lead as she ditches her shoes before climbing into the massage chair and sinking her feet into the bubbling foot bath.

Gram and both the nail ladies laugh as I dip one toe into the tub and jerk back. Fuck, that water is hot. How the hell do women do this all the time? Better try a slower approach.

Carefully, I sink my feet one inch at a time into the churning bubbles, sucking in a breath through my teeth and slowly letting it out. Once I get a chance to adjust, it’s really not so bad. And the smell of eucalyptus from whatever oils and salts are in the water is actually pretty damn soothing.

I turn and look at Gram to verify that I’m doing this right. She’s relaxed in her chair, her eyes closed, a satisfied grin on her face. She must feel me looking at her, though, because the second I glance her way, she speaks up.

“So, if you’re going to win back my granddaughter, you’re going to have to really impress her. Show her that you’re serious about her. If you can do that, I’m nearly certain she’ll at least hear what you have to say.” She slowly opens her eyes and gives me a skeptical look. “That is, if you can figure out how you’re going to impress her. That’s what we need to brainstorm on.”

Before I get a chance to give it much thought, my assigned nail lady taps on my left shin, looking up at me expectantly.

“That means you’re supposed to take that foot out of the tub,” Gram whispers.

Who knew that nail salons came with this secret code?

I lift one foot out of the water and into the nail technician’s hand. With some sort of spongy stone, she starts scrubbing at my heel, causing me to squirm in my seat, holding back a laugh.

“I’m ticklish,” I say apologetically.

“You really are a pedicure rookie.” Gram giggles so hard that she snorts. It takes her a second to collect herself, but when she does, her giggles are long gone, replaced with a completely serious expression.

“Now you have to be honest with me, dear,” she says, her voice low and stern. “Are you in this for the long haul? Things always find a way to get tough sometimes. I can’t have you running out on my girl when times are too hard. She deserves better than that.”

I nod soberly in agreement. “If she’ll have me, I won’t be going anywhere. She’s all I want in this world right now.”

Gram raises a brow in my direction. “Just right now?”

“No, not just right now,” I say, correcting myself. “Forever.”





Chapter Twenty-Six


Peyton



When I walk into the kitchen, I can hardly see Gram through the enormous cloud of lemon-scented cleaning spray in the air. She’s been on a cleaning spree since the second she finished her coffee this morning.

“Hey there, Mr. Clean. Everything okay?”

“Fine, fine,” she mutters, giving the counter another wipe down, despite the fact that it’s already glistening. “Just getting things ready for when Duncan arrives.”

Since the doctors cleared Gram to only use her walker as needed, she’s spent nearly every waking moment on her feet.

“Let me get that.” I reach out to stop Gram from trying to lift a mop bucket full of soapy water.

“No, no, don’t worry about it. You go get ready.”

I scrunch my nose. Get ready? For what? I was kind of planning on rocking this yoga pants and oversized sweatshirt look for most of the day. I’ll just be catching up on emails and watching TV all day.

Before I can ask her to clarify, Gram has already moved on to deep cleaning the outside of the dishwasher with quick, aggressive scrubs. She’s a woman on a mission.

The dishwasher doesn’t keep her attention for long, though. As I head for the fridge to size up my snack options, I can feel Gram’s stare on my back, giving me a thorough once-over.

“What’s wrong?” I call over my shoulder. “Is there a stain on my sweatshirt or something?”

“I just think you should put on something a little nicer,” she says. “You know, maybe throw on some makeup, do your hair.”

I close the fridge and turn to face Gram, folding my arms over my chest. “What’s the deal? You’re acting weird.”

“No, I’m not,” she says, her tone suddenly defensive. “We’re just having company, that’s all.”

“Duncan hardly counts as company at this point, Gram,” I say with an eye roll. “And I doubt that he would care if I’m in yoga pants or not.”

Gram sticks out her bottom lip and gives me her best puppy-dog eyes. “It would mean a lot to me if, just this once, you looked a little nicer, okay? It’s important to me.”

Ugh. I don’t know what she has up her sleeve today, but I can’t say no to my own grandmother pouting at me.

“Fine.” I sigh. “I’ll change if it makes you happy.” The old lady is clearly going senile.

Gram’s face brightens with an enthusiastic smile, and without another word, she shoos me out of the kitchen and back up the stairs.

Jeez. Whatever date she has planned with Duncan must be good if she’s being this crazy about making a good impression. He’s seen me after a full night of sobbing over Josh. Compared to that morning, I look photo-shoot ready right now. But if it’s that important to her, I’ll swap out the yoga pants for a proper pair of jeans. At least until Duncan leaves. Then I’m going right back to yoga pants.