“What?” I ask.
I know exactly what.
“You sly dog, you, Jonah Wydner.” He points his finger at me with a small waggle and coughs out one of his cocky laughs. “You sly dog.”
I exhale through the heat of a blush that crawls around my neck and roll my eyes as he gets into the car. I spend a small second outside by myself before I get into the hot seat. There’s no way he’s stopping there.
We pull out of the driveway and get moving on the main road before he starts in.
“So when did you two kiss, huh? The tonsil tango? Lip mashing? Smooches at sunset?”
“Oh, my God,” I groan, leaning my head forward until it lands on the steering wheel as we crawl to a stop at the light.
“Oh, Jonah. It’s perfectly natural, kissing girls. I’ve done it lots of times,” he continues.
“Oh, God!” I lift my head and glare out the window. My eyes dash up to the rearview mirror to check on Eleanor and see how she’s handling this. Our eyes meet, and my stupid grin breaks at the sight of hers. She doesn’t seem fazed in the least.
“You’d be happy to know that your grandson is a very good kisser, Mr. Wydner,” she says, shifting forward so my grandpa can hear her better.
I don’t know whether to soar or die. My eyes flutter with my stuttered laugh. All I can do is shake my head and focus on the road.
“It’s Hank, sweetheart. You call me Hank. And he better be a good kisser. He comes from a long line of excellent kissing genes you know.”
“Jesus H—” I mumble.
“Penny Solemanto!” He lifts his index finger into the air as he proclaims her name. He’s going to tell the first kiss story. I’ve heard it. I’ve heard it so many times.
“Who’s that?” Eleanor feeds into his ego.
I sigh and rest my arm on the window sill, my fist propping the side of my head as I cruise toward the center of town with one hand on the wheel.
“She was an ambassador’s daughter, and she was brand new to St. Agatha’s. I was fourteen, and if I do say so myself—”
“Oh, you will!” I add my color commentary.
My grandpa turns his head to glare at me, but quickly goes on.
“I was quite the catch. You see, these legs might not look like much now, but back then? I was silk on the ice. Fastest skater on the South Side.”
“Fastest skater on the South Side.” I join him in his favorite line of this tale.
“That’s right,” he says, slapping my arm and taking the compliment. What I wouldn’t give to have his ability to power through insults and turn them into positives.
“Oh, you were a figure skater, Hank?” I catch the wink Eleanor gives me in the mirror when she teases him, and I laugh out loud.
“No. No, no. I’m talking about hockey. God’s gift to ice and sport. I captained our three-time state championship team. A defensive wonder, I was!” Grandpa drifts off with the memory as he talks, and I can tell he’s reliving good times, so I ease up my jests.
“One look at him in his uniform, and Penny was done,” I say, urging the story on.
“Oh, I bet,” Eleanor adds.
“Ah, she was a beautiful girl. We were a steady thing until spring came and her family was shipped off to some other place. But my God, those lips—like honey.” He chuckles at the thought, and I catch him touch his fingertips to his upper lip under his mustache.
We pull into Toby’s before he has a chance to delve into more of his conquests. He never shares these kinds of stories about my grandmother, but I don’t think it’s because he doesn’t have them. They were married for more than forty years, and from what I have gleaned, he holds her on a very precious, very high pedestal. Those intimate stories are kept close to the vest, right where I will keep mine.
“I can just run in,” I say, pushing open the driver’s door.
“No, I want to come,” Eleanor insists, pushing my seat forward as I get out.
“I’m no third wheel. You two go on in and I’ll keep the heater company,” Grandpa says, unfurling his paper to read it in the car.
Eleanor takes away my insecurities about whether or not to hold her hand the second I shut the door, sliding her fingers through mine and giving me a tender squeeze. She practically skips at my side as we enter the shop, and I smile as she moves ahead of me, noting my flannel shirt tied around her waist.
Dale must have called ahead, because his coworker, an even bigger guy named Ron, flags me down before I have a chance to delve too deeply into the store. He holds up the package of clips I need as well as a few other things Dale must have discovered after I left. I pay for the parts with my poker winnings and glance around the store for Eleanor.
“Elle?” I call out, my chest fluttering with anxious nerves. For whatever reason, I immediately think of Addy, which injects my body with a rush of adrenaline that fuels my footsteps until I’m nearly running along the back aisles. I’m starting to let my mind go to a bad place when a pair of cold hands wrap around my wrist and jerk me into a small alcove between a tire display and a precarious stack of air filters.
“Shit, Elle!” I whisper-shout, smiling mostly from relief.
She giggles, and mouths I’m sorry against me as she lifts up on her toes and parts her lips over mine. She tastes like maple, and her lips are smooth and soft. I breathe a quiet laugh against them while nipping at her plump bottom lip with my teeth. My hands cup both sides of her face, my right one still holding the bag of parts. The plastic smacks against her cheek, which makes both of us laugh.
