Page 18 of Stuck with Me

It’s Rosalie and an older woman that I can only assume is her grandmother. The eyes are familiar. They’re the same ones in the photo given to me by my great aunt. But the eyes belonged to a younger version. She was pretty, with long red hair and soft freckles. It’s obvious what my granddad saw in her.

Shuffling to my duffel bag, I rummage inside until I find the old photo from Aunt Sara. In the photo, both the woman and my granddad are dressed in bathing suits and the woman is on his back while they stand near a body of water. If my granddad hadn’t been in the photo with her, I wouldn’t have believed any of this story.

My grandparents were married for forty years. Happily, I assumed. But what if they weren’t? What if Granddad had an ongoing affair with Rosalie’s grandma?

My body tenses as heat flushes through me. My dad left my mom fourteen years ago. In search of greener grass. That’s why Granddad and I were close. He was loyal. Not just to my grandmother, but to the family, to the ranch.

Something my father never was. My brain can’t fathom Granddad cheating on my grandmother.

My confusion turns to anger which I channel into hatred toward Rosalie. The need to learn more about what really happened between our grandparents has me on edge.

I stuff the photo back into my duffel and peek outside on the porch for firewood. Nothing. When I go to the back door near the kitchen and peek outside, there’s a firewood rack but it sits there empty. Almost like it’s mocking me. Because I know exactly what I’m going to have to do.

But after I’ve bundled up once again, Air pods in, with a Country playlist going, I pick up the axe and get some reprieve with my first swing. Back at the ranch, chopping wood is work. But here, it’s my therapy.

CHAPTER5

Rosie

I’m not prepared for the grief that hits me today.

For some reason I guess I had hoped that if I kept going through the motions there wouldn’t be a chance for grief to rear its ugly head and mess up my holidays. But grief is a little bitch. Because about halfway into National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation last night, I found myself sobbing without realizing it.

And I’m not a crier.

Then this morning, I tried my hand at frittatas, but I’m not skilled in the kitchen like Gigi was. I never needed to be. Because I had her.

Being at the Martin’s with Cammie, Jones, and Maverick should be comforting. When I lost my parents, the Martins welcomed me into their family. But let’s be real; I was part of their family long before that. Gigi and Cammie’s grandma Nettie were joined at the hip since they were young.

Cammie bumps her shoulder against mine. But it barely breaks me from my grief-induced trance. Is that even a thing? If it isn’t, I’m claiming it. Because there’s no better way to describe how I get when the spiral of missing Gigi begins.

“You okay?”

My fingers tremble as I bring the blade of the knife down to the carrot. “Yeah, fine. Why?”

We’re in Grandma Nettie’s kitchen helping her prepare Christmas Day dinner. But I’m not hungry.

“Because you’ve been slicing those carrots for over five minutes and have yet to make a dirty joke about them,” Cammie says, snorting a giggle into her hand when Grandma Nettie comes into the kitchen.

She’s right. This unwanted grief is throwing me off today. I try to clear my head and pick up the thickest peeled carrot in my pile.

“Is this what you’re giving Maverick for Christmas?” I say, gripping one end of the carrot and holding it up near the side of my face, while I stick my tongue into my cheek and insinuate a blowjob.

Cammie bursts into a fit of laughter that makes me giggle too, because the more she tries to hold it in, the harder she laughs.

Nettie rolls her eyes at us. “You girls, are you ever going to grow up?”

I grab a dish towel, wind it up, and swat it at Nettie’s backside. “Don’t act all innocent, Grandma Nettie.” She jumps out of the way and punches a fist in the air in triumph. “I know you did some filthy things back in the day. Gigi told me everything,” I continue.

Nettie’s cheeks blush. “What do you mean, back in the day? I still pleasure Pete regularly with my mouth.”

“Ewww, Grandma.” Cammie groans squeezes her eyes shut and covers her ears.

But it just makes me laugh harder. When we tease each other like this, it’s almost as if Gigi is still here.

“Good for you, Nettie. As long as Mr. Martin returns the favor.” I waggle my brows at her.

“Oh, Pete has always been generous in that department.” Nettie bends to pull a pan of rolls out of the oven.

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