fill the additional filters. When the rush hit, it was best to be able to grab a filter and just slip it inside rather than deal with ripping apart finicky bags.
“I’m sure you do,” Grandpa said with a smile, causing me to fix him with a suspicious look.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I was edgy, and only part of it was because of the hangover.
“I didn’t mean anything by it.” Grandpa turned his back to me, pouring oil on the grill and watching it warm. “Do you want breakfast to help with that hangover before people start arriving?”
Breakfast sounded wonderful. What I wanted even more was an explanation. “What did you mean by that?” I refused to let it go. “If you’re suggesting that something is going on between Hunter and me ... well ... that’s just ludicrous.”
His eyes were full of sympathy when he turned back. “I know nothing is going on with you and Hunter ... yet.”
He just had to throw in that last word. “It’s not going to happen. We’re adults now. We have nothing in common.”
“I wouldn’t say that. You both like certain things: hikes in the hills, coffee in the morning, taunting Detroit Lions fans.”
“The stuff of great romances.” I rolled my eyes. “We were kids when we were together.”
“And I think you still care about him. That’s neither here nor there, though. I’m not going to get involved in your personal life. That’s not my way.”
I couldn’t swallow my snort. “Since when? You’ve always stuck your nose in everybody’s business. If they share blood with you, you tell them how to live their lives.”
“Only if they’re doing it wrong.”
“Oh, so everybody in this family but you is living life wrong, huh?”
“Pretty much.” He didn’t seem bothered by the assertion. “Do you want to know what your problem is?”
“No.” I turned back to the coffee filters. “I don’t have a problem. I’m perfectly happy, thrilled even, to be here.”
“Yeah, you’re full of it. That’s not what I’m talking about. The job stuff will work itself out when you’re ready. You’ll start writing again when you’re ready. I’m talking about your other problem.”
“I don’t have a problem.”
“Your problem is that you hide your emotions. You feel the need to bury them. Do you want to know why?”
Ugh. He always asked that question. I hated it. “No. I want to talk about something other than me.”
“We’re talking about you right now.” He was firm enough that I knew he wouldn’t let me weasel out of the conversation. “The reason you’re so closed off is because your mother was too open. She foisted conversations you weren’t comfortable with on you at a young age and you never got over it.
“Like ... do you remember when you got your first period?” he continued. “She announced it to everybody in the family, as if they should throw a parade or something. You were mortified.”
I was still mortified sixteen years later. “I really think we should talk about something else.”
He barreled forward as if he hadn’t heard me. “You got so frustrated she was telling anyone who’d listen that you blurted out the truth. You’d actually started your period six months before then and simply didn’t tell anyone because you knew she would be obnoxious about it.”
“Can we talk about something other than my first period?”
“Hey, I don’t want to talk about it either.” He gave me a reproving look. “Trust me. There’s no man who wants to talk about his granddaughter’s period — unless he’s some gross SOB who should be shot anyway. That’s not the point.”
“What is the point?”
“Your mother being so open made you want to do the exact opposite, so you closed yourself off. That’s why you’re the way you are.”
He sounded so sure of himself that, for a moment, I questioned whether he was right. Then I made a face. “Hunter and I aren’t getting together. It won’t happen. We’re not kids any longer.” And, besides, I silently added, he showed exactly zero interest in me the previous day. He was interested in work, nothing more.
“If you say so.” Grandpa picked up a spatula. “Where did we land on breakfast?”
“I could eat,” I said, earning a grin from him.
“Your usual?”
“You remember my usual?”
“I remember everybody’s usual. Hash browns, eggs over medium, whole wheat toast, and sausage links. Sometimes you’ll have ham, but you lean toward the links. David prefers French toast doused in a sea of syrup. I expect you to take a plate out to