Page 93 of The Lonely Hearts Book Club

“Hey, Grandpa,” he said, as if the familial term had been bandied between us for three decades instead of a few months. He blinked at the sight of Nigel, but that didn’t stop him from nodding politely and acting as though there was nothing odd about me sitting around chatting with my sworn enemy. “And Nigel. Glad to see you’re both upright and breathing.”

I snorted on a laugh. The kid had a subtle way about him, that was for sure. Hannah had been the opposite, hot and full of fire—a lot like me, rising to every fly. We weren’t the type to meekly show the other cheek; we bared our fangs and fought back, even if it meant we ended up in opposite corners licking our respective wounds.

I liked his approach better.

“I’ll leave you two to your…chat.” He ducked his head and turned back toward the kitchen.

“No. Don’t.” I lifted my hand and held it there, feeling its awkwardness but refusing to drop it back down again. “You might be able to help.”

“Me?”

“Yes. It’s about Sloane.”

He hesitated. Sensing that it had to be now or never, I used that hesitation to make my case.

“She’s leaving, Greg. Not tomorrow or anything, so you don’t need to jump like that, but soon. In a few months. She’s marrying that fiancé of hers and moving to the East Coast to live a long, happy life full of books and conversations about muscle tension.”

Greg grunted. “Good for her.”

“No, it’s not good for her! It’s terrible for her, and she knows it. Only she refuses to do anything about it—because she’s scared and because she’s lonely, because no one has ever given her a reason to stay.”

“And you want…me to be that reason?” He rolled an uncomfortable shoulder. “Sorry, Grandpa, but—”

“Of course I don’t want you to be the reason.” Honestly, had these two never heard of such a thing as platonic love? “I want her to stay for me. And for Maisey. And for Mateo and maybe a little bit for you. But most of all, I want her to stay forher.”

Nigel cleared his throat so gently that I had to steady my breathing just to hear him. But steady it I did—and none too easy it was, either. “I think you should tell him,” he said.

“The devil I will.”

Greg finally unbent enough to lower himself next to Nigel. Nigel winced at the sudden, unyielding dip of the couch, but that didn’t stop him from speaking again. “He can’t help you unless he knows the whole story, Arthur.”

An ordinary man would have taken my silence for the strong, visceral negative it was, but Nigel was no ordinary anything.

“Your grandmother did the same thing once, and it almost broke your grandfather’s heart. He’s terrified of what will happen if he lets it happen a second time.”

I stamped my foot on the floor. “Nigel! If you’re going to tell the story, you can at least tell it right.”

“Iamtelling it right. Did you or did you not stand by and watch as Genie accepted my proposal of marriage?”

“I wasn’t in the room, no. In fact, I didn’t hear about it until the next day—about how you went behind my back and lured away the woman I loved. Stole her out from underneath my very nose.”

“As far as I can remember, she was happy to have me.” He turned to Greg with a soft smile. “I gave her my mother’s ring. It was too small for her ring finger, so she had to wear it on her pinkie—a pearl as sweet as she was.”

Greg’s interest was understandably starting to pick up, but for all the wrong reasons.

“Goddammit, Greg! Don’t listen to him. She didn’t want him, do you hear me? She didn’t want anything to do with him. How could she? With all his airs and graces. More like a bag of wind than a living, breathing person!”

“Don’t hold back onmyaccount,” Nigel murmured.

“What have I said that isn’t the truth?” I snorted with all the contempt I could muster, with a little extra annoyance thrown in for good measure. “Greg, you should read his piece on James Joyce—the only author in the history of the world more full of himself than Nigel is.”

“So you read that, did you?” Nigel asked. “I wasn’t sure you would.”

“Of course I read it. I’ve read all your so-called peer reviews and contributions.” I started ticking off the ones that first sprang to my mind, although there were so many I doubtedhecould name them all. “The Cambridge Quarterly.The Review of English Studies.Journal of the English Association. Bah! When have you had a single opinion that you didn’t steal from someone more original than you? You couldn’t even fall in love with a woman of your own choosing. You had to go and fall in love with mine.”

I thought for sure that one would get him, but all he did was nod and say, “I know.”

“Wait,” Greg said before I could catch my second wind. “So Grandma left to go be with Nigel?”