Page 63 of Snapshot

I grip the shoebox in my hands a little tighter. This is why.Stop it, Lennox.Dex said he wanted to just be friends. Acceptthat. Get this stupid fantasy under control and actually be his friend. The kind of friend who digs up an old shoebox of memories for his grandmother’s long, lost friend.

This is why Dex asked me to meet Mrs. Dottie Hessler. She’s actually the one who bought Jacob’s dive shop as a present for Dex.Weird present.If my grandparents bought me a labor-intensive small business for my birthday, we’d have some words. But I have a feeling for Dottie, it’s nostalgia.

Sucking in a deep breath, I announce myself before I have to endure the painful stab of Dex proclaiming his love for Leah out loud.

“Knock, knock,”I chirp as I enter the kitchen, holding my fist in the air, doing knocking charades. “Sorry to keep you guys waiting.”

Grandma Dottie takes my breath away. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so elegant. She’s wearing a cream-colored flowy jumpsuit. While she looks comfortable, all she’d need is a stiletto to wear that outfit right to the Met Gala. Her jet-black hair, which matches Dex’s, looks fluffy and soft, but it doesn’t move an inch as she makes a beeline to me, arms outstretched.

“I’m not usually a big hugger, but you are just…” Grandma Dottie wraps her arms around me and squeezes tightly. I didn’t have time to put my shoebox down, so I’m unable to hug her back. Instead, I rest my chin on her shoulder, trying to return her enthusiastic affection. She pulls away to get a good look at me. “So beautiful,” she finishes.

“Thank you. You smell incredible, Mrs. Hessler.”

She doesn’t say anything. She just continues to beam at me, holding the outer sides of my arms. Naturally, I feel the need to fill the awkward lull.

“I didn’t mean for that to come off weird. Is that, um…well, your perfume is very nice. It smells rich.”Shit.Did that sound accusing?“Not overly fancy. I just mean very warm and full.Like amber or cashmere…or, now come to think of it, maybe it’s laundry detergent? Or, I don’t know if you can put that outfit in a regular wash.”Dear Lord. What the hell am I rambling about?

I look over Grandma Dottie’s shoulder to see Dex silently laughing. He clutches his chest. “What?” I snap at him.

“Oh, I’ve just never seen you this uncomfortable before. It’s pretty adorable.”

“Ass,” I say, then immediately cover my mouth, clutching tightly to my box with the other hand. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Hessler. Forgot my manners. But I’m not uncomfortable, I promise.”Just fucking nervous.I really want her to like me for some reason.

She smirks at me. “Heisbeing an ass, isn’t he?”

“Two against one. Wonderful,” Dex murmurs.

Grandma Dottie ignores him and drops her arms. “First of all, none of this ‘Mrs. Hessler’ business. Please call me Dottie. And thank you for noticing. It’s my favorite perfume. It’s calledPardonné, orForgivenin English.It’s from a little boutique in France. I stock up every time I visit. You can’t get it anywhere else. My attempt at staying a touch unique in a world where every woman seems to smell like Chanel No. 5.”

I chuckle. “Right on the nose. My mom wears that,” I say. “So you spend a lot of time in France?”

“Not anymore. Infrequent visits. Dex and I lived there for about six months in his adolescence, though.”

“I think closer to four,” Dex says from behind us. “Just enough time for Olivier to completely give up on me learning to cook French cuisine.”

Dottie drops her arms and laughs heartily. “Oh, goodness, he nearly burned down the kitchen.”

“Well, flambé is not a skillset for a preteen. We learned that the hard way.”

A loud chime comes from Dottie’s smartwatch. She briefly glances at the notification, and the tiniest flicker of irritationcrosses her face. She recomposes herself quickly and says, “Pardon me for a moment. Emergency on the East Coast. I’ll be right back.” She doesn’t walk, she glides with elegance right out of the kitchen, through the open-concept living room, and up the stairs.

As soon as Dottie disappears from view, I set my shoebox down on the counter and make my way to Dex. I wrap one arm around his thick frame, giving him a friendly hug. “Thanks for inviting me. You smell nice, too. Like food.”

He chuckles. “Are you hungry?”

“Famished.”

He looks me up and down and grimaces. “Is this a new dress? Did I mention we’re eating in?”

“It’s not a new dress.” Lie. No…half-truth. I borrowed it from a friend and paid zero dollars for it. I needed a “meet the grandparents” dress. “Why would you think that?”

“It’s not your usual colorful flair. You look very nice. I’m just used to your outfits being an adventure.”

I shrug. “I have layers. Sometimes I like simple.”

We actually match tonight. My black dress is sleek and form-fitting, but the length touches my knees so it’s a combination of allure and elegance, or so my bartender friend Cass, whom I borrowed this dress from, told me. Dex’s dress shirt is also black, sleeves rolled up just below his elbows, showing off his thick, masculine forearms.

“Well, now I feel bad for not taking you guys out somewhere nice.”

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