You, With a View(9)

“Needled?”

“Tried to get a rise out of her,” Paul says, grinning. “She didn’t like that much.”

I laugh, imagining it. “She was feisty.”

“Sounds familiar,” Theo says into his cappuccino.

I twist in my seat, raising an unimpressed eyebrow. “Feisty is the word you’d use to describe me?”

He blinks innocently, and I get momentarily distracted by his long, curled lashes, the tiny freckle underneath his left eyebrow. “Can confirm it starts with an f.”

Releasing an impatient breath, I turn back to Paul. “Sorry, go on.”

“We got off to a bumpy start until one of her best girlfriends started dating my fraternity brother. Once she was forced to socialize with me, we discovered we were both from the Bay Area. I grew up here in the city.” He traces his finger over one of the photos. “It was a simple way to connect, but it led to us striking up a friendship that turned fond very quickly. We started dating not long after.”

His hair moves in the breeze, and his hands are lined and spotted as they move over another photo. Despite the obvious signs of his age, he looks strong, at least a decade younger than he is.

Gram looked strong, too. She was strong, driving like a demon up until the day before she died, when we went on a hike at Tennessee Valley. She played tennis with me regularly, and whupped my ass at it, too, even though I kept up the hobby after high school.

And yet she died in her sleep three days before Thanksgiving. She had the ingredients for her famous pumpkin pie stacked up on the counter. She wasn’t ready. I wasn’t, either.

A streak of jealousy runs through me like electricity. Like poison. I begrudge Theo for being able to grab a cup of coffee with his granddad when I’ll never see Gram again. It makes me want to grab onto Paul’s hand, hold him hostage until he tells me every detail of their story. Every anecdote about her—that feistiness, the way she’d clap her hands when something really delighted her. Her loud, boisterous laugh that could make your ears ring if she did it in a small room. The other things I apparently don’t know.

I want to twist my hands around his memories like I’m wringing out a towel so I can get it all in one fell swoop.

“What happened?” I ask. I can’t help myself. “I mean, the pictures—that letter—you were clearly in love. Why did you separate? You said she left school. Why?”

Paul dips his chin, pinning me with a look equal parts stern and kind. “You’re impatient to know it all right now.”

“No, not at all.” I backpedal like my life depends on it. I don’t want him to stop talking because I’ve pushed too far.

It’s only when Theo presses his finger against my knee that I notice it’s bouncing. “You’re vibrating.”

I push his hand away, rubbing the skin he touched, then cover it with my palm so he won’t see the goosebumps.

“I’d like to tell you the story, Noelle, but it’s not going to happen all in one day,” Paul says.

“Granddad—” Theo starts, sitting up straight.

Paul’s gaze flickers to Theo, then back to me. A whisper of a smile alights on his lips, a secret one. “You want to know everything, and I’ll answer any questions you have. But I’d like to request more of your time to do so.”

“Of course. I have nothing but time.” Shit. That doesn’t sound like something a thriving person would say. “I mean, yes, I will absolutely find the time. Just tell me when and where.”

“Let me check my date book when I get home,” Paul says. “I do have a few things planned next week, and I don’t want to double-book you.”

“God forbid you miss poker afternoon with your frat buddies,” Theo mumbles, but his voice is affectionate. It gives the texture of his voice a softer feel.

“Soon enough they’ll all be dead. Got to get my time in with them while I can,” Paul replies jovially. He turns to me. “Why don’t we exchange numbers and we can chat.”

“That sounds perfect.” I input the number Paul rattles off into my phone, then call it so he has my number, too.

Theo leans forward to catch my eye. “Isn’t it easier if I message you with logistics stuff?”

I spare him a glance. “Nope. Paul and I can take it from here.”

“Right.” Theo’s phone starts shimmying with an incoming call. I catch the contact name—Dad—before he turns it facedown, his jaw tight. Paul’s eyebrows cinch together, his gaze lingering on his grandson’s phone, as Theo lets out a sharp breath. “Are we done for the day? I have to get back to work, and I need to drop this freeloader off at home first.”

I push down my disappointment, reminding myself this is the beginning, not the end. “Lots of Forbes 30 Under 30 things to do today, huh?”

As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I want to absolutely destroy myself. It’s the LinkedIn incident times ten.

But Theo’s reaction is nothing like I expect. He doesn’t smirk or say something cocky. Instead, it’s like watching someone’s power switch get turned off. He just . . . shuts down.

“Bye, Shepard,” he says blankly, swiping his phone off the table. His chair screeches against the concrete as he stands and stalks a few paces away.