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“Now, now, child, just because I am over the hump doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate a fine-looking man when he’s at my front door,” she says, and I frown.

“Don’t you mean over the hill?”

“Hill, hump, all means the same thing,” she says with a shrug, and I smile at her.

“What did you think of him, Gran?” I ask, but she just looks at me blankly.

“I only met him for five minutes, child. I don’t really know him, so how can I possibly answer that?”

“Fair point,” I say, because she’s right. She did only meet him for a few minutes at the door. “What if I were to tell you that he’s asked me to move in with him…”

She stares at me for a moment before saying, “Well, then I would tell you to invite him round for dinner so I can give him a thorough once over. And only then will I give my blessing for you to move in with him.” She smiles sweetly, but I know my gran, and I know she’s doing the guilt thing purposely now.

“Okay, okay, I’ll ask him to come round for dinner, but in my defence, things have moved rather quickly.”

“I can see that, dear, and whilst I’m very pleased for you, I have to ask you something,” she begins, and I just nod at her to continue. “That man that broke your heart a few years ago… it was him, wasn’t it?” she asks, and my mouth drops open.

“How… How did you know that?”

“Because it’s the only other time I’ve seen you this happy, and with that sparkle in your eyes.”

“Oh.”

“And if you’re happy, then I’m happy, but I also have to ask if he is likely to break your heart again…”

“I don’t think so, Gran,” I say confidently. “It’s different this time.”

“How so?” she asks curiously as she tilts her head slightly to the side.

“Because I think he knows what he lost before.”

“Quite right too. My granddaughter is one hell of a catch, and he must be a special man if he’s captured your heart.”

“He is, but there is something else I need to tell you…”

“Oh?”

Oh indeed. Oh fuck. Oh bugger. Oh bloody bollocking hell.

“Um, well… he’s um… he’s…”

“Spit it out, child,” Gran says, and I take a deep breath before blurting out, “Danny was his son.” I close my eyes and slowly open one, so I’m squinting at her, and I expect to see her looking at me in disbelief, shock, horror, but I don’t see that. What I see is her arms crossed, one of her eyebrows raised, and a slight curve to the side of her mouth.

“You done being dramatic?” she asks, and I open my eyes fully, feeling a little stupid. “Good,” she says, seemingly satisfied that I’m ready to talk. “Now, child, I’m going to tell you a story that I want you to remember in your darkest moments, when you feel as if the world is on your shoulders and you can’t see any way out.”

I gulp quietly. “Okay,” I say slowly, as I wring my hands together in my lap.

“You may just see me as some old duffer who has no idea about the guilt that you’re feeling right now, but let me tell you, old duffer I am not. You see, you’ve never been told the story of how I met your grandfather.”

“Sure I have,” I interrupt. “You met when you went dancing and it was love at first sight.”

“Not quite,” she says, and I frown. With a sigh, she continues. “Yes, we met dancing, but there was far more to our story than just our eyes meeting across the room and our hearts knowing we belonged.”

“How so?” I question.

“I went to the dance with his best friend, who I was engaged to at the time.”

My jaw could not open any wider if I tried.


Tags: Lindsey Powell Romance