“Our situations were different. If your grandparents had owned the Dodgers, you would have still gone to the games.”
I picked up my soda and took a drink. “You’re probably right. You know, you have good insight into things.”
“Spent a lot of time in therapy.”
That surprised me. I put my cup back down. “Really?”
“It’s not a bad thing.”
“No, I agree with you. I’m just impressed. You don’t seem like the therapy type. More of the put-everything-into-a-tiny-internal-box-and-cram-it-all-down-inside-you-and-never-speak-of-it-again kind of guy.”
“I was that way for a long time until I realized how much it was messing me up. My dad wouldn’t have wanted me to go, but when I turned eighteen, I started making decisions about the things that were best for me, and getting professional help was one of those things. Losing a parent is a lot, and it helped to have someone to talk to about it. Did you ever go to therapy?”
“I did a couple of sessions right after the accident. Then my grandma decided I was done and that all I needed was to work hard to deal with my feelings. But secretly I wanted to keep going.”
“Why didn’t you tell her?” he asked.
I shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t know. I think I was afraid that if I spoke up, if I didn’t do everything they wanted, that I’d lose them, too. I know that was irrational, but I was a kid. But I think that’s one of the reasons why I don’t always speak up for myself.”
He considered this. “You stood up for yourself today with the Lasik thing.”
“Yay! Point for me for not letting people cut my eyeballs open.” I ate a few more french fries and then said, “It’s funny. You would think you and I wouldn’t have anything in common. We’ve had totally different upbringings. Different life experiences. But when I hang out with you—it’s like none of that matters. Like you understand me.”
“Maybe I do,” he said. “Grief is a great equalizer. But then there’s the fact that I just like hanging out with you, too. Speaking of, I gave you the binder, the hair, the clothes. Technically we’re finished, but . . . do you want to stay?”
While I recognized the fact that I might have been mistaken, I thought I detected a hopeful tone in his voice.
Like he wanted me to say yes.
“Sure. Let me just make a phone call.” I walked over toward the front door, out of sight. I dialed the number quickly and when I heard a “hello?” I said, “Grandpa? I’m going to be out late. Don’t wait up for me.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“Did you want to pick up where we left off with the video game?” he asked as we cleared our trash off the table now that we had finished eating. He had one of those fancy trash cans stored inside a sliding cabinet.
“Not really,” I confessed. It wasn’t as much fun as I’d assumed it would be. Maybe if there were some virtual-reality version where I could brush Legolas’s hair, then I might feel different.
“Okay, so besides watching movies and creating makeup, what else do you enjoy doing?”
“I really like board games.”
“Do you want to play one?”
Marco had board games? Interesting. “Do you have Monopoly?”
His eyes lit up. “I do. I got it as a present last Christmas. Hang on.” He went into his room and came out carrying a black box, still wrapped in plastic. When he got closer, I saw that it was the Star Wars Complete Saga Edition. “I got it from my younger sister.”
More shocking revelations. “I didn’t know you had a little sister.”
No wonder he treated me like one. This also meant that Craig had a sister. It reminded me how little I knew about the Kimball family before I’d met Marco.
“I haven’t mentioned her before? Lindy. She’s amazing. I think you’d like her.” Marco set the game down on the coffee table and handed me a plastic tray that had all the playing pieces. He opened the board, and all the properties were planets from Star Wars, and we had to build X-wings and TIE fighters instead of hotels.
This was definitely my kind of game. All thoughts of his sister went out of my head. I grabbed the Kylo Ren figurine to play with. Marco took Han Solo, and that made perfect sense, given Marco’s personality. I could definitely see him as a smuggler, captaining a spaceship and . . .
Cutting off my overexcited imagination, I focused on helping to set up the game. He said, “You’re playing the Empire; I’m part of the Rebel Alliance. Which means I’m going to win.”
“Famous last words,” I said.
He grinned at me. “We’ll see.”
“Does Craig like board games?”
His eyes shuttered briefly, his smile slipping. “I don’t know. We’re not that kind of family.”
Was he talking about playing the board games or spending time together? Knowing each other’s likes and dislikes?
He added, “I’m guessing that means your family is the kind who sits around and plays board games.”
“Yes, but my grandparents always crap out after three rounds of Monopoly. I’ve never been able to play it all the way through to the end.”
“I’ll be happy to introduce you to your first official defeat,” he said.
“You think I won’t beat you?” I asked as I moved my token to the starting point. “I think you’re severely underestimating my competitive nature.”
“And you’re forgetting that I’m a CEO of a company and my real life is already like Monopoly. I even own a hotel on Park Place.”
“You do not!” I gasped, in shock. Why did that make him even more attractive?
“You’re right, I don’t,” he said with a smile. “But you believed me for a second, didn’t you?”
“That’s because I’m very trusting.”
“Yes. You are,” he agreed, his eyes glittering in a way I didn’t understand. “I do own a house in Tuscany that my mother left me. I’ll have to take you there sometime.”
Why did he do that? Was he just making conversation? Being polite? Or did he envision me being in his future in some way? Married to his brother?
And why was I always reading so much into everything he said?
Shaking my head, I announced, “Since I’m your guest, I get to roll first. I’m sure you want to be a good host.” I picked up the dice and tossed them onto the board.
“Cheating already?” he asked as I moved my Kylo Ren token eight spaces.
“Going first isn’t cheating. It’s just taking advantage of the opportunity when it presented itself.”
“I’ll remember that.”
Landing on Kashyyyk, I said, “I’ll buy it.” I picked up my credits. “Wait. When did we decide that you were the banker?”
“Because of the two of us, I have a savings account in real life,” he teased. “I think that qualifies me as the better person to handle the money.”
“You better be honest,” I warned him.
“I’m not the one who grabbed the dice first,” he retorted.
“Then know that I’m keeping an eye on you.” Not like that was a hardship or anything.