Page 137 of The Muse
I shake her hand. It’s a little cold. “Nice to meet you. June has said a lot of nice things about you.”
“June?”
Juneclears her throat, pulling me to sit beside her on the sectional. “When I moved to Minneapolis, I chose a different first name.”
Juni narrows her blue eyes. “Zoya is a beautiful name.”
June nods. “It is, but it’s not common, and I wasn’t looking for recognition. So I thought about my favorite grandma and chose a variation of her name.”
Juni eats up every word, clearly taken with her granddaughter. “I’m flattered. But you’re home now, so Flynn should call you Zoya.” Juni stands.
“What do you need,”Zoyaasks, standing too.
“The restroom, dear. I think I can do it on my own.”
Zoya looks at me, and I return a tight grin like we’re in trouble. She sits back down, leaning into me as I put my arm around her, kissing the top of her head.
“I love yousomuch,” I murmur.
She reaches for my hand wrapped over her shoulder, interlacing our fingers. “I don’t know what’s going to happen to my grandma or how I’m going to handle the ups and downs. But I need you with me. And when the time comes, you’ll wonder things like … should I ask this woman to marry me. And the answer is yes. Okay?”
When I don’t answer, she shifts her body, sliding her leg over my lap to face me.
“You want to marry me?” I probably look as confused as I sound.
“Eventually.” She leans forward, resting her forehead against mine. “Do you want to marry me … eventually? A house with a big garage for cars that you’ll work on. A room on the second floor with a balcony where I’ll play my cello. And kids. We’ll have two kids. Maybe three. And you’ll teach them to play the kazoo.”
I laugh and so does she. Everything inside still feels raw. I don’t know what to do with this new kind of vulnerability. So I lean into it. I trust her.
“I mean,” she shrugs, brushing her nose against mine, “if I’m your whole world, it would be weird for you to marry someone else. Right?”
I frame her face and kiss her.
A wife?
House?
Kids?
And a kazoo?
“I would have thought you two would have gotten your fill after the concert,” Juni says.
Zoya grins, sliding off my lap and rubbing her lips together.
“Ahh … young love,” Juni says, sitting in her mammoth chair. “I remember when I met Zach. We couldn’t get enough of each other. Every touch and every look was foreplay. A slow dance to the closest place to rip off our clothes and go at it like rabbits.”
“Grandma!” Zoya giggles, cheeks stained red.
“So how long are you staying, Flynn?”
I look at Zoya. She squeezes my hand.
“As long as Zoya will be here.”
“So until I kick the bucket?”
Zoya stiffens.
