Page 140 of My Lucky Charm

“Because when I was very young, my dad gave me my name sign,” I tell her, signing with a smile at my dad. “So, my name is spelled E-L-O-I-S-E—” I fingerspell this for her— “but around here, I’m just—” I show her my name sign again.

“What’s it mean?”

I smile, but my dad taps her again, signing while I say, “It’s the sign for ‘sunshine.’” I feel my cheeks flush as he continues. “Because Eloise always has a way of making the world a little bit brighter.”

Apparently, I have no self-control because the second he says it, my eyes dart to Gray’s, and when I find him watching me, I have to look away.

“Can I have a name sign?” Scarlett asks while I interpret for my dad.

“Yes, after my dad gets to know you better,” I say.

“Can’t I pick it?” she asks. “Like what’s the sign for supreme queen?”

Everyone laughs, and I shake my head. “No, a name sign has to be given by someone in the deaf community. So, stick around, and I’m sure this guy will come up with something.” I give my dad a quick side hug.

Scarlett looks over at the table, where, yep, Gray is still watching us intently. Why is he doing that? It’s unnerving. And far from professional.

I might be projecting. Or hoping. Or fantasizing.

“What about my dad?” she asks. “Does he have a name sign?”

I sign this, and my father puts his hand in front of his face and moves his fingers, eyebrows pulled downward in a scowl. I laugh and smack my dad across the arm, which feels rude because not everyone in the room understands.

“Sorry,” I say.

“What’s that mean?” Scarlett asks brightly.

“It means grumpy or cranky,” I say, signing. And then, to Gray, “Sorry about that.”

He shrugs it off. “I earned it.” He picks up his mug and takes a drink, and I notice a tight line of worry across his forehead.

And I linger there for a beat because now I’m worried something is wrong.

My parents and Scarlett serve up a big breakfast, and we all sit around the table. It feels normal, having Gray and his daughter here with us. There’s quiet banter and catching up. My dad wants a full recap of last night’s game, and Dallas is happy to oblige with Poppy interpreting.

Halfway through the meal, there’s a lull, and Gray lifts a hand, as if he has something to say.

“Could I say something quick?” he asks, nodding at me, as if to silently ask me to interpret for him.

I sign the question to my dad, and when he sets his silverware down, we all follow suit, except for Scarlett, who shovels a big bite of pancake into her mouth.

“The last time I was here for a meal, I was—” His eyes flick over to mine, but I learned my lesson about filling in the blanks for him, so I stay quiet, responding only by lifting my eyebrows to encourage him to continue.

“I was going through a hard time, adjusting to a new team and a new city—” he looks at Scarlett— “trying to figure out how to be a long distance dad.”

At that, Scarlett stops chewing and looks up.

I’m signing these words and trying not to have an emotional reaction to them, but it’s not working. There’s so much I still don’t know about Gray, but I know him well enough to understand how hard this is for him. Not just apologizing, which is what I assume he’s doing, but sharing anything about himself.

“I didn’t make a great first impression,” he says. “I was . . .” and then, he signs the word for “cranky,” as demonstrated by my dad. A soft laugh weaves its way around the table, and Gray looks at me. “What’s the sign for ‘I’m sorry?’”

I show him, and he looks at my dad and very slowly, very humbly, winds his fisted palm in a circle over his heart.

I go still, thankful Raya isn’t here to analyze my expression because I am sure it’s the exact opposite of professional.

Water under the bridge, Dad signs, and when I don’t say it out loud, my mom does, giving me a quiet nod.

Gray picks up his fork, gaze falling to his plate. “Thank you.”

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