My breath catches in my chest. “She talks about me?”
“All her grandkids,” he confirms, his eyes twinkling. “That part lasts for an entire page. There’s a paragraph devoted just to you.”
I make a mental note to take a picture of Thomas’s paragraph and text it to him. But first, with Paul’s hand on my shoulder, I read mine:
Then there’s Noelle. Now, I’m going to tell you a secret: I know we’re not supposed to have favorites, and it’s easy for you since you have one grandchild. But if I did have a favorite, it would be my sweet girl. I look at her and my heart feels like it’ll burst. She’s my shadow, always following me from room to room. If I’m sitting down, she’s in my lap. People say we’re alike, but she’s so much braver than me. She’s so curious. Gets in everything! And when she really wants something, she never, ever gives up. I feel this with all my grandchildren, and I don’t want to wish away the years—every minute is wonderful—but I can’t wait to see what she does when she grows up. I know whatever it is, it’ll be spectacular.
The words are blurred by the time I finish, and I bend over the letter, holding it to my chest. Over my heart. I’m being stitched together, but damn, it hurts.
Paul sweeps his hand over my back while I cry, not just for the loss of Gram, but for the love she gave me in the first place. For the belief she always had in me, even when I didn’t have any in myself, and for the realization that I’m finding it again. To see it in her own words, like it’s a secret being whispered directly to me from her, is as perfect as it is painful. It’s exactly what I needed, and somehow she knew that.
If there’s anything I can learn from Paul and Gram’s story, it’s that I can fall and get back up, I can let go and it still won’t be too late to hold on to something else, as long as I keep trying. That eventually the peace will come exactly when it’s meant to.
I hate that Gram is gone; I’ll never get over it. But I don’t have to dig up any more secrets to keep her near, because she’s everywhere. She guides me when I guide myself.
Paul’s voice cuts gently into my thoughts. “I wrote her a letter, too, as a thank-you for the gift, but also so I could gush about my own favorite grandchild.”
I wipe at my face, letting my hair curtain between us so I can pull myself together. Though I said I didn’t want to talk about Theo, the truth is I’m hungry for any crumb.
He takes my silence for what it is: a request to keep talking. “I don’t remember the exact wording because it was a while ago and my mind isn’t what it used to be.”
“Yeah, right,” I scoff, laughing soggily.
The amusement in his voice is clear as he continues. “I told her all about Teddy—how smart he was, how focused even at five. But more important than that, how much he smiled. How loving he was.”
I push back my hair, looking at him. He’s watching me closely.
“I’ve seen that five-year-old boy for the past several weeks, even with his unfortunate work situation,” he says. “I watched you two grow closer every day and build something that is very special. I know it feels hard when he tries to push away, but what you have is worth holding on to.”
It’s such an echo of what my dad said that it stuns me. Let go or hold on.
“He doesn’t trust me,” I whisper.
“He trusts you. He doesn’t trust that what you have won’t be taken away from him.” He shakes his head. “If this is worth it to you, Noelle, then be patient with our boy. It takes him three times as long to admit to his own happiness because he never knew he was allowed to have it.”
The words sink between us, wrapping around my heart, which hasn’t stopped aching in days.
“Okay,” I say finally. It’s a promise I don’t know if I can keep. It’s worth it to me, but is it worth it to Theo? I still don’t have that answer.
Paul moves us on to other, less wrought subjects, plying me with coffee and cookies. By the time I stand to leave, the sun is hanging low in the sky.
“I didn’t mean to stay so late,” I say as we walk to the front door. “I’m leaving for Tahoe tomorrow to work with that resort, so I need to pack.” I give him a wry grin. “Again.”
“Will you let me know how it goes?”
I pause at the threshold. “Is that okay? Even if things don’t work out with Theo?”
He gives me a look, pulling me in for a final hug. “You were hers,” he whispers. “So, now you’re mine, too.”
I’m so busy crying as I drive down the street that I nearly miss the flash of red turning the corner. But then I see—it’s Theo behind the wheel of Betty, headed toward Paul’s. Our eyes meet through our windshields, and electricity arcs between us. I’m so flustered that my foot stomps the gas, and I lurch past him. I don’t slow down, but watch in my rearview mirror to see if he’ll stop. He doesn’t, so I don’t either. It feels like my heart is attached to his bumper; it pulls and pulls as his taillights move further away.
Then I turn the corner and he’s gone.
When I pull into my parents’ driveway, there’s a text waiting for me. It’s from Theo.
I want to be the person you said you need.
I wipe at my cheeks, searching for what to say. In the end, it’s simple: You already are, Spencer. I just need you to trust that. And me.
I wait for his response, but it doesn’t come.
Thirty-One
Thank you so much for everything, Noelle,” Eunice, the resort’s marketing director, says as she ushers me back into the lobby. “I can’t wait to see the final product. The shots you just shared are beautiful.”
“It’s not hard to do when you’re working with a view like this.” I gesture out the floor-to-ceiling window, which looks out to a massive deck, a sparkling pool, and beyond that, the towering trees and craggy mountains that make Lake Tahoe so picturesque.
“Seriously, though.” She pushes her black bangs out of her eyes. “When I tell you my boyfriend and I stayed glued to our phones while you were traveling, I’m not exaggerating. We fell in love with your story, and your photography is so captivating. Not to mention your social engagement is phenomenal, so you were an easy sell to my boss.”
I’ve read comments saying similar things, but to hear it in person is wild. I’ll have to pinch myself later when no one’s around. This day has been surreal.
I wish I could share it with Theo. Yesterday he texted me: good luck in Tahoe, Shep. You’re going to blow them away. I sent him a shot of the sunset falling behind a thick copse of trees, but only got a hearted picture in return.
Blinking away from the memory, I say, “That’s really nice, thank you. I had such a great day with you.”
“Right back at you. You’ve been a rock star.” Glancing down at her watch, Eunice frowns. “I have to get going, but I wanted to check with you about something. It’s half business, half personal.”
“Of course.”
“I have a friend in San Francisco who’s opening up a coffee shop. He’s looking for someone to shoot his space and menu for all his social platforms,” she says. “I’m not sure what your schedule is like, but would it be okay if I passed your information over to him?”