“She was a strong woman.” Why am I arguing? I know how it ends. If Paul and Gram had ended up together, Theo and I wouldn’t even exist.
“She was,” he says, equally kind and firm, “but she was also twenty at the time, when women were either dependent upon their family or their husband. I loved your grandmother and I always will, but that relationship wasn’t to be. It taught me the lesson I needed then, and for my first marriage, too.”
Theo’s eyes catch Paul’s in the rearview. “What lesson?”
“When it’s right to fight for love, and when it’s right to let it go. Kat and I were built on an already crumbling foundation. Pushing for that relationship would have ended in disaster, and in the end, we both knew it.”
“So, did you break up for good in that letter I found?” I ask.
“No, I drove up to Glenlake,” Paul says. “It was midsummer by that time. We met at a park near her house and talked about what we should do, though we knew by that time. We just had to say it out loud. It was hard and very emotional. For a while I wasn’t okay, and I suspect she wasn’t either. I sent her the letter you found in hopes that we’d both heal. And we did.”
My throat goes tight; even if she felt like she failed, she ultimately found her happiness. She doesn’t need to be with me now to tell me that. I think of her and Grandpa Joe dancing in the kitchen. My dad and his brothers. Our raucous Christmases and Gram’s wide, happy smile.
I’m going through all the stages of grief at once. Listening to Paul and Gram’s story hurts. But knowing how it played out soothes the sting of their heartache.
“It took time,” I say finally.
“Healing always does,” Paul says. “Remember, nothing lasts forever. You have to hold on to the good things, knowing you may be on borrowed time with them. And with the bad, recognize that eventually it will pass.”
“Any regrets?” Theo asks, his tone searching.
Paul shakes his head, gazing at his grandson. “None. Any failure I felt at the time turned into opportunity down the road. The pain led me to my first wife and our boys, to you, and ultimately to Vera.”
We all sink into the silence together, considering that.
I let out a breath. “This is going to take some processing.”
“Undoubtedly,” Paul replies. “It took me years. Give yourself time.”
Miles pass before we speak again. My mind is spinning with thoughts of Gram, of this trip, of the men in the car with me. Theo’s zoned out with his Radiohead, and Paul’s reading in the backseat, humming quietly, when I realize something.
I turn to Paul, raising an eyebrow. “You said we could take our time with the story, but you finished with time to spare.”
“Well, I got the feeling you wanted an excuse to keep seeing me.” He winks, and it’s so much like Theo’s mischievous one that I can’t help laughing. “But truly, I wanted an excuse for you two to keep seeing each other.”
“You are such a pain in the ass,” Theo mutters.
He raises an eyebrow. “But you worked that out, didn’t you?”
I catch Theo’s eye, my face flushing. I guess we did.
The rest of the drive passes too quickly. I try to hold on to the last hours I have before I step back into real life, but it slips through my fingers like sand, and suddenly we’re pulling up to Paul’s house. Mine will be next. My parents texted to let me know they’re out to dinner with friends and won’t be home when I arrive, but they can’t wait to catch up. I hate that I’m coming back to an empty house; I’ve become so used to not being alone.
I don’t want to let these two weeks go. I have no idea what to expect now, even though there are things to look forward to: that Tahoe trip, the momentum I’ve gained with my photography, Theo. The changes I’ve dedicated myself to making. I’m not the same Noelle I was when I left.
Theo unbuckles his seatbelt, raising a questioning eyebrow at me. “You want to stay over at my place tonight?”
“You have no idea how much I wish I could, but I should probably be there when my parents get home.”
“Of course,” he says, though he doesn’t try to hide his disappointment.
I hang back while Theo and Paul embrace. Neither of them let go for a long time, and when Paul claps Theo’s back and whispers something in his ear, Theo squeezes his eyes shut.
“Best trip of my life,” Paul declares. Theo looks toward the house, wiping at his eyes. I step toward him, but Paul intercepts me, his expression soft. “Thank you for this opportunity, sweetheart. I can’t tell you what it’s meant to me.”
I swallow hard, pushing down the emotion that’s moving up from my chest. “Thank you for telling me your story. I’m sorry it was painful, but I guess I can’t be sorry for how it turned out.”
His smile is wide. “It’s exactly as intended, Noelle. I promise. Oh! There is one more letter I’d like to show you. Let’s make a date.”
I catch Theo’s eye as Paul pulls me into a tight hug. The affection on his face flattens me. “Yeah, a date sounds perfect.”
* * *
Theo pulls my suitcase from the van with a grunt. “You free this weekend?”
I blink out of my blank stare at my parents’ house. “All yours, Spencer.”
Theo sets the bag aside and pulls me into his arms. I sink against him with a sigh.
“I’m going to miss you in my bed,” he says. “Kicking me in the middle of the night, making your annoying snuffling sounds.”
I give him a derisive look. “First of all, you’ve been in my bed. Second of all, you talk in your sleep, so you don’t have room to talk.”
“I do not talk in my sleep,” he insists, cheeks turning pink.
“You sure do.” Sometimes he sighs out a nonsense phrase; other times it’s a whole conversation from another dimension. I’ll never admit it, but I have a recording on my phone.
Theo’s eyes narrow. “What do I say?”
“Oh, didn’t I tell you? I know all of your secrets now.” He laughs, a little uncomfortably, so I take pity on him. “I’m joking. It’s gibberish.”
“Right.” His shoulders drop and he tightens his hold on me. Against my hair, he murmurs, “I’ll be around all day tomorrow, so just come over whenever, okay?”
“You gonna let me take Betty for a joy ride?” As I say it, I’m imagining that: the wind in my hair and Theo’s, my hands all over the steering wheel. His hand high up on my thigh, watching me because the sight of me driving his Bronco makes him—
“Absolutely fucking not.” Theo extinguishes the fantasy before I can finish it, pulling back. “But I’ll drive you. We’ll go somewhere private, and you can meet me in the backseat.”
“Zero chance of that if I don’t get my hands on her stick shift.”
That dimple pop is so unfair, as is the smug smile it brackets. “You can get your hands on my stick shift.”
“Somehow not as compelling.”
His grin turns wicked, but it drifts away as he cups my jaw, running his thumb over my bottom lip.