“I wanted to check in on you. It’s never been like you to be a people person. I don’t want you to feel forced into this.”
I shake my head. “I don’t. I wouldn’t have volunteered otherwise.”
She grins. “I can tell you’ve taken a real shine to Romy.”
“Nona. Don’t get any ideas, huh?”
“What? I want grandbabies.”
“You have Jennifer and me.”
“I want great-grandbabies, and since she’s only ten, it’s going to be a while unless they come from you.”
“It’s been killing you to keep that inside, hasn’t it?” I wink as I pack the car and rejoin her on the porch.
“I gave you a year to get settled back in first. I was excited when you came home from New York. That place was sucking the life out of you.”
I inhale, forcefully exhaling before answering. “I needed to get experience. No one wants a lawyer who hasn’t practiced. And I needed space from Dad. He never understood this was my way of keeping families from experiencing the same trauma and heartache. When he lost the rights to his patents to his former friend, it broke us all. To him, my decision made me the other, an enemy.”
“No,” she sighs. “He just couldn’t see your position. The space you created allowed him time to process.”
“I’m not sure he ever will get it.”
“Maybe not. All that matters is he’s trying and listening. You got your stubbornness from him.”
“And none from you?”
She huffs, placing her hands on her hips. “I don’t know what you are trying to insinuate, young man.”
“Right.” I follow her back inside.
I’m taken aback by the beauty of Romy in front of the fireplace, talking with Pop. The flickering light makes her skin glow. Her face is animated, and she gestures with her hands.
“You must get well so I can show you around. It’s been a long time since I saw this place through fresh eyes.”
“Yes, sir.”
“He’s our family historian,” I tell her. “You couldn’t ask for a better guide.”
“I love history.”
“Beautiful and smart, Cal,” Pop drawls.
I need to get her out of here before they have us married and reproducing. If being taken care of spooked her, that would send her running. Walking over, I offer her my hand. She takes it, and the familiar hum of energy she created in me buzzes to l
ife. Ushering her to the door, I bundled her swiftly and got her into the car.
“Sorry about that,” I mutter.
“Don’t be. They are the only reason you’re going home with me. Any man that close to his grandparents can’t be completely awful.”
“Thanks. You set the bar real high for me.”
“You’re welcome. Back at the hospital, I gave you a free pass for your heavy-handed behavior. Next time I’ll go for your jugular.”
“What a little savage you are.” I may tend to put my foot in my mouth outside of the courtroom, but I can read people.
Romy Foster is flirting.