"Hey, Grant," Wes greeted me with a smile as soon as I walked through the door. "I'll go get him."
"Okay," I said, lifting the hinged counter and stepping into the office space where customers weren't allowed to go. I felt so naughty.
Tristan came bounding through the door with a joyful smile taking over his face. "Hey baby, what's up?" He kissed me and wrapped his arms around my lower back.
"I'm still in pain, so be gentle," I whispered. He loosened his hold. "Thanks. I came by to ask you if you want to go to dinner at Mel's house?"
He shrugged. "Sure. When?"
"Um, tonight?" I felt guilty, and I know it came across in my expression. First, we'd gone to my mother's at a moment's notice, and now Mel's. I knew it was a lot to ask.
Frustration flashed across his face, but it was quickly transformed into resignation. "Sure," he said. "If you want to, I'll go to dinner with anyone. Besides, I really want to meet your best friend."
"Thank you." I kissed him and smiled. "It would be great if you could finish up here and take a shower first. He lives over an hour away. I'd really like to leave as soon as possible."
Tristan's eye twitched, and he released me. His expression was back to frustration. "That's fine, but I hope you realize that every time we do this, I get further behind at work. I'm going to have to work this weekend to get caught up. I own the business, Grant; if I don't do the work, then it doesn't get done."
"But you have Wes, Jeff, and Will. Let them do it," I suggested.
It seemed logical, but his lips pressed into a tight line. "Grant, I pay the bills. I do the books. They don't. I don't expect you to understand this, since I barely know you, but this job is my life."
He might as well have slapped me. I backed up and said, "Okay. Then work. I'll call Mel and tell him we'll come over another night. I'm sorry I bothered you." I was back on the other side of the counter and out the door before he caught up to me. I wasn't moving very fast, so I wondered if he had to think about whether or not he should stop me from leaving. That kind of deliberation bothered me more than a little.
"Grant, wait!" he fussed, grabbing my arm as I attempted to slide into the front seat of my car.
"What?" I asked, none too politely.
"I didn't mean to say it so … so sternly. I do have a lot of work, but I'll wrap things up here and head home to take a shower. I'll meet you at your place as soon as I can."
"Thank you," I said blandly. I wasn't going to make him think he could be forgiven so easily. I hadn't appreciated his tone.
He let me go, and I went home to wait for Tristan to be ready.
He was at my house half an hour later.
MEL INVITED us in with a strained smile. I narrowed my eyes and realized the problem even before I asked the question. Cindy wasn't there. Mel shut the door and led us into the living room.
"It's nice to meet you, Tristan. May I get you a drink? I have beer, wine, Sprite, and water," Mel said, after Tristan and I had taken a seat on the sofa.
"Um, water is fine," Tristan said.
"I'll have water too. Let me help you," I offered, jumping up and heading into the kitchen with him on my heels.
"Grant, what are you doing? Why did you just leave Tristan alone in there? What's wrong?" Mel asked.
"Nothing's wrong with me. What's wrong with you? Where's Cindy?" I asked, stepping close so I could speak quietly enough to keep the conversation between us. "I thought you told me you invited her."
"I did, but she … she said she wasn't feeling well."
He was lying. He always glanced away when he was lying. "Mel?" I stressed.
He fessed up. "She said she had a date."
I touched his shoulder affectionately. "What?"
"She told me right before you got here she's been seeing someone else for a few weeks. Our date was casual, for her," he said, sniffling just a bit.
"Oh man, I'm sorry. Do you think she'll go out with you again?"
"I don't know." He got choked up and pinched his eyes. Mel wasn't as emotional as I tended to be, so this was quite a display for him. "I feel like this whole thing was a mistake. I'll probably be alone forever."
"No, no, that's not true." I pulled him into a hug, and that was when Tristan walked in. He narrowed his eyes. "What's going on in here?"
"Nothing," I said. "Mel just needed to get something off his chest for a second."
Mel pulled out of my hug and wiped his eyes. "I'm sorry, Tristan. I didn't mean to keep Grant in here this long. Let's just get the drinks and sit at the table, why don't we?" He took out some glasses and handed them out, grabbing a pitcher from the cabinet to fill up with water.
Tristan looked perturbed but held his tongue. He snagged my arm as I walked past, waiting until Mel was far enough ahead of us not to hear as he snapped, "Are you sure there's nothing going on between you?"
I pulled my arm out of his grasp and responded incredulously, "No!" I joined Mel in the dining room, not waiting for Tristan, who was being rude for no reason.
Tristan and I sat, and Mel brought out dinner. "Salmon," I enthused, patting the back of his hand. "You remembered how much I love it."
"Of course I did," Mel said, smiling brightly.
Tristan muttered, "I don't really like fish."
I looked over and glared at him. He was sitting opposite Mel, with me in between them and an empty chair opposite me. "Then don't eat it," I fussed. "There's salad and asparagus," I said, taking inventory of each dish. The last one made me pause. "And hash-brown casserole," I added, beaming back at my best friend. "I can't believe you remembered how much I like that."
"Of course I did," Mel said, patting my hand this time.
I thought I heard Tristan growl, but I ignored it. He was being unreasonable, and I wasn't going to let it spoil my evening.
As the dinner progressed, we started telling Tristan about all the times we had worked together, the customers we remembered, and even some of our excursions outside of work. It was so fun reminiscing, I found myself getting more and more worked up with each story. We even relived our vacation to Ireland. It was the most fun I'd had in a long while.
"Oh!" I exclaimed, jumping in my seat and waving my hand in the air. "Remember that time at your grandmother's house, when that lady-"
"The one with the goats?" Mel asked.
"Yes. When she came rushing over? She rapped on your grandmother's screen door so hard-"
"We thought a bear was chasing her," Mel laughed. "But it wasn't a bear."
"It was a hummingbird," I said. It had been a long time since we'd finished each other's sentences, and I was soaking up the joy of it.
"You were amazing that day," he gushed, his laughter turning serious momentarily.
"No, I wasn't," I denied, feeling self-conscious.
"No, you were." Then Mel directed his attention at Tristan as he told the rest of the story. "This wild old lady lived next door to my grandmother. She had six goats and treated them like children. One day, she came rushing to my grandmother's, rapping on the screen door like-"
"A bear was chasing her," Tristan offered dryly.
"Exactly. But it wasn't. She ushered us all to her house, where a hummingbird had gotten trapped. Somehow it had flown in the door when she came in from gardening. It kept circling the living room but wouldn't go out the window she had opened. She was so worried the little bird would break its neck on something. She asked us to help her catch it, but it was too fast for the butterfly net she was using. Then Grant gets this wild notion to grab it."
"So I did," I told Tristan. "I snatched it right out of the air."
Mel continued, "Only the bird was so tired and scared it just sat in his hand. It wouldn't fly away even when we walked outside."
"I figured," I explained, "that it was hungry. Hummingbirds need to eat every two hours, and if it had been flying around the house for a while, then it was probably exhausted."
"So I go and make some sugar water with Mrs. Peatree in her kitchen, and she produces this teeny-tiny teacup that had to have been made for a doll, and fills it with the sugar water. We hand the tiny cup to Grant, and he holds it to the tiny bird sprawled out on his open palm, and the thing drinks it!"