Page 5 of Make it Real
Still, I didn’t like turning her down when she only had good intentions for keeping her grandma happy. I’d much rather be the guy to swoop in and save the day, but her proposal was straight up bananas. It just asked for trouble and misunderstandings and chaos.
Usually, I subscribed to the theory that a little chaos could be a good thing. Mix it up and keep things interesting. But getting involved with Callie, even just for pretend, would amount to a whole heap of chaos I wasn’t prepared to wade through. No, thank you. Better she go off and tell her grandma the truth, or better yet, find somebody to date for real.
Lord knew, that man would not be me.
TWO
callie
Well.Royally embarrassing myself in front of Jed Evans wasn’t how I’d thought my morning would go.
Oh, who was I kidding? I’d known going in the odds weren’t high he’d agree to my idea. The man was supposedly up to his ears in real dates—why would I think faking a few with me would sound appealing to him? Especially when I was the weirdo whoasked him to fake date me. Ugh.
I guess I’d figured a short-term relationship would be right up his alley, but no. Not interested.“Absolutely not.”Just the words a girl wanted to hear when she asked a man to date her, even in a strictly imaginary way.
We weren’t exactly close friends, but he’d always been nice to me, friendly and fun, and now, I’d probably obliterated that almost-friendship forever. At least I didn’t see him all that often. Maybe the next time we ran into each other, he’d have forgotten all about it. Better yet, maybeI’dhave forgotten all about it.
Ha. Fat chance. I’d be reliving that coffee date in my nightmares for months.
I let myself into the one-story home I shared with my grandma. A cardboard box filled with knick-knacks and items she’d deemed non-sentimental sat by the front door waiting to be donated. Other half-filled boxes dotted the living room—books, pictures, and mementos stuck in the space between staying and going.
Granny had been whittling her belongings down for the last year as she and her friends’ plans became more serious, and she’d started packing essentials a month ago. But then came her big hesitation, and she’d put a pause on the whole production. So now, it all sat half-in, half-out. Waiting.
Just like me.
Gran, Carmen, and Rita played cards at the dining table, their laughter seeming to fill the whole house. Like today, the friends weren’t always together—Linda must have been off doing her own thing somewhere—and they rotated where they hung out, but it still felt like they spent 125% of their time in this room.
Since the school year had ended and I was around during the day more, these women had become inescapable. I loved them, but being with them every waking moment was like using four weighted blankets at once. Comforting but smothering.
“There’s our girl,” Rita trilled. “Where have you been? We could have used a fourth.”
Card games were one of their milder hobbies. Pottery, learning to play the ukulele, making homemade taffy—they seemed determined to try everything under the sun in their retirement. Most of it right here at our dining room table.
“I’m sure Linda wouldn’t like me taking over her spot.” I walked over to check out their choice for the day. Cards with various shapes, colors, and patterns lay in neat sets in front of each woman. “I’m no good at this game, anyway.”
“Neither are we.” Carmen laughed, drawing a card from the deck and examining her hand through purple reading glasses she wore around her neck. “Suzie just likes to toss this one in the mix whenever she’s on a losing streak at something else.”
Gran pursed her lips into a flat line, eyes intent on her cards. “It has nothing to do with winning or losing. I happen to like a little variety.”
“Variety, my behind,” Rita said. “I never met such a sore loser.”
“Yet, you keep playing games with me.” Gran smirked, revealing the last of her cards.
Tossing their hands on the table, Rita and Carmen complained about their loss. Granny gathered up the cards to put back in the box, a smug little smile playing on her mouth. Smart as a whip, she dominated most of the games they played. I usually lost to her, too—I’d inherited a lot from her, but strategy wasn’t among my gifts.
Clearly, or I would have figured out a solution to Gran’sFind Callie a Manquest by now.
“Have I told you I adore that haircut, Callie?” Rita mimed fluffing her hair. A former hairdresser, her gray-blond hair curled in a chic, perfectly blown out bob. “Really brings out your eyes.”
“What were you up to this morning?” Gran asked before I could thank Rita for the compliment.
“Just met a friend for coffee.”
“Oh?” Carmen spoke, but they all lit up with interest. “Which friend?”
They stared at me as if I might bust out wedding invitations. Maybe I should have been more grateful they cared so much, but living under a microscope had lost its charm.
“Harper.”See, Jed Evans? I can tell lies. Not so straight-arrow now, am I?
