Not the Rebound Guy by Abby Knox (popular books of all time .txt) 📗

shakes her head. “I’m just…not sure what to say after that.”

I shrug. “Then don’t say anything. Let’s finish picking strawberries. And then we can go inside and have lunch with Grams.”

Chapter Seven

Eliza

After lunch, I park myself in the gazebo by the creek and open my laptop. I’m treating this whole scenario as if Grams were my marketing client because she needs a consultant right now. And a time manager. The Berry Cottage will go under before it’s even begun to get itself out of the red.

Before I begin, I check my phone messages and emails. One voicemail from Debbie with an update on the mercurial client (she finally did what I advised and everything went fine); one text from Jared (“Hey, just checking on you. Let me know when you’re back in town.”); and one text from Nora (“I had so much fun last night! Garrett is hotttt. Are you going to be seeing him again? Talk later, so hungover.”). Still neither a reply nor payment from my mother. I’m tempted to try again, to let her know I’m with Grams for the next couple of weeks, to see if she wants to meet. But honestly? I’m not in the mood to see her face to face. I can’t deal with more pointed comments about me dropping out of medical school.

So, I put my phone away and get to work.

I tap away on my laptop, make spreadsheets, figure out how much time each batch takes and what kind of manpower Grams will need to fulfill all these orders before they come due. I create another spreadsheet to determine how much return on investment she’ll be getting at the prices she charges.

I’m in my element, in the flow. This is the kind of thing I enjoy. If only I had clients as easy as my Grams. She trusts me, and that makes me feel good. Makes me feel better than what my own mother ever made me think.

It doesn’t feel good to think that, but it’s the truth. I love my mother, but she’s not exactly mother of the year. She raised me, kept me alive, but rarely had time to cheer me on and make me feel like I was a success. Grams was always my greatest cheerleader.

Mom tried. She’d hired me remotely to develop a time management and office organization plan for her medical practice. She didn’t like hearing my corrections. She was offended by the number of digits on the invoice when the project was completed. But I’m her daughter, so of course, I charge too much and yet know nothing.

And it’s because of that unpaid invoice and her offense at my organizational advice that we haven’t spoken in six months.

I love my mom, but we are not similar people. She’s an anxious, scattered person. I’m focused. Grams is a free spirit, but when I rein her in, she seems to appreciate it. Even at her most obstinate, Grams sees me. The real me.

Which is why, when Grams comes outside to join me in the gazebo, her eyes twinkle. She holds her hands in her lap, rubbing the middle of her palm with her thumb, the way she does when she’s dreaming up a new idea.

“I was thinking,” she starts.

“Always a dangerous thing,” I say with a smirk and saving my work on my laptop. I close my device and meet her eyes. “What’s up?”

“I heard that there is a good movie playing tonight at the drive-in. Maybe you and Garrett should go see it.”

I cock my head. “Grams. If you want to go see a movie, then you should just say so. One of us will be happy to drive you.”

“I saw you and Garrett kissing in the strawberry patch this morning.”

Oh. Here we go.

“It was a momentary thing. We’re not dating. I’m still, you know. Healing. This is a temporary vacation thing.”

“And I saw the way you two looked at each other over lunch. Does he know this is a temporary vacation thing?”

“If he doesn’t, then he’s been hit on the head. He and I and Nora and her husband spent two hours hashing out all our disastrous past relationships. He’s heard it on repeat that I’m here to mend my broken heart. The kissing was a momentary thing. Flirting. Two attractive people who—“

Grams interrupts, “Fell into each other’s faces?”

“Sure. Let’s go with that.”

“Mmhmm. So listen, about that drive-in movie. He’s got a nice truck. You could pack a picnic basket.”

I squint my eyes. “That sounds like a very romantic date, and I see what you’re doing. What movie is it?”

She puts up her hands. “Oh, I don’t remember.”

“Yes, you do, you read it on the placemat at the diner this morning with Linda, or you wouldn’t have come all this way to the creek to tell me about it.”

She sighs, “All right, all right. It’s that new comedy with that cute girl you like with the glasses. And the fella with the shoulders.”

I know what movie she’s talking about, and it’s supposed to be really funny. “I went out with Garrett last night.”

“And you made it clear that wasn’t a date, and yet you’re kissing him in my strawberry patch.”

“Grams.”

“Well, did you have fun last night?”

“Of course I did. He is a good dancer, very polite.”

“Good kisser?”

“Grams, he is not someone I need to be going to a drive-in movie with. We’re just friends who kissed a couple of times.”

“Don’t you like him?”

“Sure. I don’t kiss guys I don’t like. But I’m not interested in starting another relationship. The more time I spend with him, the more I like him, and I don’t want to break his heart when I go back to New York.”

“So don’t break his heart. Date him, marry him, and give me some grandbabies already. I’m 80 goddamn years old, for Pete’s sake.”

“Grams! I’m not going to marry the rebound guy. That’s asking for a lifetime of regret.”

She adjusts herself on the gazebo bench. “Your grandfather married me two weeks