Page 18 of Wish For Me

“Isn’t he sweet?”

Grandpa laughs behind me. “God speed, son!”

I throw him a glare over my shoulder.

“Okay, Connie, slow down,” I say. “Listen, you have to stop them if they start talking about their granddaughters.”

“Oh don’t worry. They won’t be talking about anyone. It wouldn’t be polite.”

I frown as we round the corner toward the foyer, a little confused about that statement, but grateful all the same.

“Helloooo!” A woman’s voice says as the door opens. “Connie?”

The woman at the door is in her fifties, wearing head to toe reindeer. Antler hat. Red nose. Under her open coat, a Rudolf sweater, and Rudolf patterned tights.

“Ho ho ho!” She says, then squeals when she sees me. “Well, look who it is?! Do you remember me?”

That’s when my heart jumps. Because yes, I do remember this pretty woman in her fifties with chestnut hair streaked with gray. And I’m too stunned to say anything. Because the last time I saw her, I was walking red-faced out of her daughter’s bedroom.

“Hello,” I manage. “Connie,” I turn to Connie. “You didn’t tell me—”

But Connie’s not listening to me. She’s beaming as she points her chin out the door.

If my heart jumped before, now it fully halts. Because jogging up the steps is Noelle, wearing a Rudolf sweater identical to her mom’s.

My heart kicks back into gear, thudding in double-time.

She’s even more perfect than I remember. That smile—that little crooked tooth.

“Hi, Connie!” she says as she reaches the door.

Then she sees me.

The smile falls away almost as fast as the color rises in her cheeks.

I knew, maybe, that if I ever saw her again she might not be thrilled to see me. But I didn’t expect her to look like she’d rather have met her mortal enemy on the street.

“Hi, Noelle,” I manage.

My stomach ties itself in knots, waiting for her to say something. Anything.

“Fancy seeing you here,” she says finally. There’s a clip to her voice. She glares at her mother. “This was the big surprise, Mom? Really? You made it sound like someone was bringing cake!” She turns to me. “Were you in on this, too?”

“Absolutely not.” I level my own gaze on Connie.

“Well, let’s all get settled, shall we?” Connie says, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “Why don’t you show Noelle the living room?”

Noelle looks like she wants to murder someone—probably me. But she smiles politely. “It’s fine. I know where it is.”

I’m still staring at Noelle. But she’s drawn her lips into a tight line as she steps neatly out of her boots.

Ten minutes later, everyone’s arrived. There are six women all together, all in their sixties and seventies.

Noelle and I stick out like sore thumbs, especially since all the women are looking at us with hearts in their eyes.

It’s not until everyone’s got snacks and tea and they’ve pulled out their copies ofSpace Man, the biography of an astronaut that came out last year that I understand this whole meeting was built around me. When Connie asked me for a recommendation for her book club about space, I thought she’d just been expressing interest in my field of work. I’m embarrassed now, because they’re essentially treating me like some kind of elite guest of honor. As if that’s not bad enough, I feel like I look like a pompous ass in front of the girl I haven’t been able to stop thinking about all year.

But despite myself, I start to have fun when they start asking me deep philosophical questions, like Carla’s, “Why does the author say that there’s no time in space?” When I answer, I get to talk about the ‘no-boundary’ proposal and quote Stephen Hawking. Honestly? I love talking about this stuff. I love exploring unanswerable questions about the cosmos.

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