Page 73 of Floored (Frenched 3)
“I’d like to meet your grandfather sometime.”
“Today’s not good,” he said quickly.
I took my hand off him. “I wasn’t saying it had to be today, I was just saying I’d like to meet him in general.”
“I know.”
“I’ll start some coffee before I get in the shower.” I went to get out of bed but he grabbed my arm.
“Hey. Everything OK?”
“Yes.” But for some reason, my feelings were hurt.
He exhaled, closing his eyes a second. “I’d like you to meet my grandfather too. Soon, OK?”
I nodded. “OK.”
While Charlie got dressed, I threw on my robe and went down to make coffee, wondering if I’d said something wrong. Was asking to meet his family too much? I wasn’t trying to be pushy; I just wanted to be closer to him. How different was that from his saying he wanted to come to a dance competition?
He’d said he wanted more. Wasn’t this the way you gave it?
Charlie worked nights the following week, but he was off on Tuesday, which was my early night at the studio. I promised to make him dinner if he helped me decorate my Christmas tree.
“You can’t just call something a Christmas tree because it’s green,” he complained, grudgingly stringing lights on it. “This isn’t a tree. It’s plastic.”
“Hush,” I said. “It’s much less messy than a real tree. I don’t like all those needles everywhere. Besides, it’s pretty.”
Giving me a dubious look, he leaned closer to it and sniffed. “For fuck’s sake. What is this, a scratch and sniff tree?”
“It’s scented.” I put my face in the branches and inhaled. “Ahh, winter trees.”
Charlie’s brow furrowed. “That is not a tree smell. That is a Made in China smell.”
“Hey. Be nice or I won’t feed you.” In my oven was a chicken and artichoke lasagna, and my house smelled divine.
He wiped the annoyed expression off his face. “For homemade lasagna, I’ll be nice.”
“Thank you. Hey, do you have to work this Saturday night? Mia and Lucas want to have dinner.”
“That sounds fun.”
“Great. After that I thought maybe we could come back here—I have a present for you, and that will be the last night I can see you before Christmas.”
“Open presents next to this fake tree?”
I stuck my hands on my hips. “If it’s so abhorrent to you, what don’t we do it at your house? I still haven’t seen where you live.”
He shrugged, turning his attention back to stringing lights. “No, my house is a mess. You’d hate it.”
“I wouldn’t judge.”
He gave me an apologetic smile over one broad shoulder. “I’ll clean it soon and then have you over. Promise.”
While we ate, I wondered if he’d stay over again, but didn’t want to ask. If it happens, it happens, I thought. And if it doesn’t, that’s fine too. We don’t need to rush things. I wouldn’t say anything about it.
When we’d finished eating and loading the dishwasher, I dried my hands on a towel, folded it precisely and hung it over the edge of the sink. I turned around to find Charlie leaning back against the island and looking at me. Only the tiny light above the range was on, putting him almost entirely in shadow. My stomach jumped. Why was I so nervous?
I gripped the counter behind me. “So.”
