Page 87 of From Air

“I should thank you,” Edith says. “Calvin only visits me over the holidays. He never takes breaks during the summer. So I know he’s here for you more than me.”

Fitz presses a flat hand to his heart. “Grandma! Your words wound me.”

Her body gently bounces with a chuckle. “No, they don’t.”

My whole face aches from grinning. She’s delightful and so unexpected. And Fitz? There are no words to describe him or his grand gesture.

“So you’re a nurse?”

“Yes. I work in the psych ward.”

“That must be interesting.”

“It can be.”

“How’s your apartment?” Fitz asks.

“Dinky, but not quite as small as the shed. Has Will rented it out?”

“Not yet.”

The waiter delivers our food, and we spend the next half hour eating and discussing Edith’s boyfriend, who happens to be turning ninety next month. He’s in a wheelchair and still lives on his own. They met when she was having physical therapy after her stroke.

I fade into the distance as much as possible and let Fitz and his grandma chat. He’s here. That still blows my mind. His grandma lives here. How can he not see the ways the stars have aligned for us? This is bigger than coincidence.

“Would you like to meet for breakfast in the morning?” Fitz asks me as we exit the restaurant.

“Stop it,” Edith says, holding on to Fitz’s arm. “Just because I’m old and going to bed doesn’t mean you must do the same. Drive me home, and then take Jaymes out on the town. Go dancing or to the movies or whatever you young people do.”

We look at each other and grin. She’s endearing.

I follow them to her apartment in an assisted living community and wait in the living room while he makes sure she gets into bed despite her repeatedly saying, “What do you think I do when you’re not here?”

Calvin Fitzgerald is full of surprises. He thinks I’m all soft and gooey on the inside because I’m a “normal” woman who dreams of love and other ordinary things.

He’s the soft and gooey one.

“So what’s it going to be? Dancing or ‘the movies’?” Fitz asks softly after he shuts her bedroom door while I inspect a few pictures on her sofa table.

I assume it’s Fitz’s family, but I’m afraid to ask. He’s here. And I don’t want to scare him away. If he wants to share his life with me, I need to let him do it in his own time, like inviting me to dinner with his grandma.

“Do you dance?” I turn toward him.

“No.”

I grin. “Do Maren and Will know you’re here?”

“Yes.”

“Did you get the salve?”

“It’s in my bag.” He nods to the black bag on the floor by the sofa.

My heart’s lodged so tightly in my throat I can barely breathe. “Is six weeks too soon to miss my person?”

“I’m pretty missable.”

“Ismissablea word?”

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