Page 85 of About that Fling
Jenna laughed and leaned back in her chair, turning to beam at Adam. “I think I like this family.”
“Yeah?” he said. “I think I can speak for all of us when I say it likes you, too.”
Nana’s fingers twitched against his palm, so faintly Adam knew he might have imagined it. He looked down and saw her expression hadn’t changed. Her face was still serene and creased with age, and her hand still felt limp in his.
But her fingers twitched again, this time curling faintly against his, and he knew he hadn’t imagined it. Across the room, Jenna and Gramps and Beth sat talking as the tiniest ghost of a smile played across Nana’s lips. Then her hand went limp again, the rhythm of her breathing making the blankets rise and fall in a soothing tempo.
It was enough.
Later that evening, Jenna leaned back against Beth’s sofa, comforted by the feel of Adam’s arm around her shoulders. It felt natural there, like it had always belonged.
“Here you go.” Beth rounded the corner of the kitchen and handed her a stemless wineglass. “It’s a cab from a winery just a few miles from here. Very juicy, though it probably needs to open up a bit more.”
“Mmm, it’s delicious,” Jenna said, taking a sip. “Thanks again for dinner. It was amazing.”
“Don’t mention it. It was the least I could do after subjecting you to that bland crap at Nana and Gramps’s place.”
“I didn’t mind at all,” Jenna said, taking another sip. “Your grandfather is quite the character. Made me miss my own grandpa.”
Beth smiled. “We’re lucky we’ve had both our grandparents this long. Most of my friends lost theirs in middle school and high school.”
Adam slid his arm around Jenna’s shoulder and craned his neck to look at his sister. “How’s the new job going?”
“Great! Get this.” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “Guess who owns the place?”
Jenna tilted her head. “Adam tells me you work at a bookstore?”
“A bookstore that’s also a cat cafe.” She looked back at Adam. “The owner is Joe Porter—as in Vivienne Brandt’s husband?”
“No kidding?” Adam nodded at Jenna. “They co-wrote her last book together. He has this whole ‘Average Joe’ schtick where he gives regular-guy counterpoints to Dr. Viv’s clinical perspectives.”
“He’s a really cool guy.” Beth sipped her wine. “Goes by Jonah, not Joe, and he never talks about Dr. Viv. I mean never. Doesn’t even carry their book in the store.” She shrugged and set down her glass. “I get the sense he likes to stay incognito. Probably wants to be known as himself and not as his famous wife’s sidekick, you know?”
“That makes sense.” Jenna quietly marveled at the PR magic required to navigate a situation like that. They must have an excellent team. “How do you like living in Seattle, Beth?”
“I love it. Way different from Chicago, but that’s a good thing. And it’s nice being this close to Grandma and Gramps.”
Adam’s fingers stroked Jenna’s shoulder, such a casual gesture that left her feeling soothed and desired at the same time.
“Was that the doctor on the phone earlier?” he asked Beth.
“Yeah. He normally checks in a couple times a week, but he’s been more in-touch since she started this downhill slide.”
Jenna watched Adam’s throat roll as he swallowed. “Anything new on her condition?”
Beth shook her head. “He said it could be a few weeks, could be a few hours. Usually at the point where the patient stops eating and drinking, it doesn’t take long.”
“Yeah, but this is Nana we’re talking about,” Adam said. “She’s probably got a little more fighting spirit than the average ninety-year-old.”
“Could be.” Beth shifted in the a tufted leather chair beside the television. “Then again, she might be ready to quit fighting and rest for a change.”
Jenna slid her hand to Adam’s knee and gave a small squeeze she hoped he took as comforting rather than lecherous. Or maybe he found lechery comforting. Now that she’d met Gramps, she wouldn’t be surprised.
She turned to Beth, who was making fast work of her wine. “Do you have any videos of your grandmother? I’d love to see what she was like before she got sick.”
“That’s a great idea.” Beth thunked her wineglass onto the end table and dropped to her knees in front of a large chest fringed with copper rivets. “I’ve got a bunch of old DVDs here. I swear, I’m the last person on earth who hasn’t converted them all to digital format.”
“Luckily, you’re also a packrat,” Adam said, plucking Jenna’s wineglass from her fingers and taking a sip. “You’re also the only person on earth who still has a DVD player.”
