Chapter 17
Adam's POV:
Saturday afternoon, four o'clock. I stood outside the Harvard Club, staring at the brass plaque by the door.
The host led me down a wood-paneled corridor to a private dining room. I pushed open the door.
Five women sat around the table.
Five.
They all turned to look at me. Blonde, brunette, redhead, another blonde, another brunette. Designer dresses, perfect makeup, polite smiles.
I nodded and took the only empty chair.
Under the table, I pulled out my phone and texted Grandma: Seriously? Is this a date or a beauty pageant?
Her response came immediately: You said you're too busy. I'm saving you time. You can meet them all at once. Now stop texting me and talk to them.
I put the phone away.
"So." The blonde on my left leaned forward. "Adam, right? Your grandmother told us so much about you."
"Did she?" I reached for my water glass.
"She said you run Sterling Global." The redhead across from me tilted her head. "That must be so stressful."
"It's fine."
"Do you travel a lot?" The brunette beside her smiled. "I love traveling. Last month I was in the Maldives. Have you been?"
"No."
"Oh, you should go. It's beautiful. The water is so blue."
I glanced at my watch. Four-fifteen.
The other blonde spoke up. "Your grandmother mentioned you went to Harvard Business School. That's where my brother went. Did you know—"
"Probably not."
She blinked. "I didn't finish."
"I didn't know him."
Awkward silence.
The first brunette tried again. "So, um, what do you like to do for fun?"
"Work."
"Oh." She laughed nervously. "You must be very dedicated."
"I am."
Another silence.
The redhead cleared her throat. "Well, I think it's great that you're so focused on your career. A lot of men—"
"Your teeth are very white," I said.
She stopped mid-sentence. "What?"
"Your teeth. They're white. Like, unnaturally white."
She touched her mouth. "I... thank you?"
"It wasn't a compliment."
The blonde on my left set down her fork. "Excuse me?"
I turned to her. "You're eating very carefully. Why?"
"I'm just... trying to be polite?"
"You look like you're scared of the food."
Her face flushed. "I'm not—"
I looked at the other brunette. "Why are you sitting so far away?"
"I'm not far away. I'm just—"
"You're practically against the wall."
She shifted in her seat. "I didn't realize—"
"And you." I pointed at the second blonde. "Why do you keep blushing?"
"I don't—" Her cheeks turned red. "I'm not—"
"You are. Right now."
The first brunette stood up. "You know what? This is ridiculous. I don't know what your problem is, but—"
"My problem is that I don't want to be here."
She grabbed her purse. "Well, neither do I. Not anymore."
She walked out.
The redhead followed. Then the second blonde. Then the other brunette.
The last one—the blonde who'd been sitting too far away—hesitated. "Are you always this rude?"
"Usually."
"Wow." She shook her head. "Your grandmother is going to be so disappointed."
"I know."
She left.
---
Sunday, noon. Dad called while I was reviewing the quarterly projections.
"You need to come to the house," he said. "Your grandmother's blood pressure spiked. The doctor's with her now."
I closed my laptop. "How bad?"
"She's calling for you."
I grabbed my keys.
---
Twenty minutes later, I walked into the foyer. Dad was on the couch, watching the financial news on the flatscreen above the fireplace.
"Dad."
He glanced at me. "She's in her room."
"Is she okay?"
He shifted. "She says she's dying."
I exhaled. "Got it."
"Adam." He muted the TV. "She's old. Stop making her upset."
"I didn't—"
"You told five women they had flaws and walked out."
"I didn't walk out. They did."
He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Just go apologize."
I headed upstairs.
---
I knocked on her door. "Grandma? Can I come in?"
A loud groan came from inside. "Oh, I'm in so much pain. Come in, come in."
I pushed the door open. She was sitting up in bed, wearing a silk robe, a half-eaten box of glazed donuts on the nightstand.
"Grandma." I walked over. "Are you okay?"
"No. I'm dying."
I looked at the donuts. "You're not dying."
"I am! My heart is broken. My blood pressure is through the roof. All because of you."
"You're eating donuts."
"I'm stress-eating."
"Grandma, you're not supposed to eat that much sugar."
"I don't care. I'll eat whatever I want. It's not like I have anything to live for anyway."
I almost smiled. "That's dramatic."
"It's true!" She grabbed another donut. "You're going to die alone. And I'll never meet my great-grandchildren."
"Grandma, if you can't count on great-grandchildren, you can count on grandchildren."
She paused mid-bite. "What?"
"Ask Uncle Richard to give you a grandson. Problem solved."
She stared at me. "Richard? Are you kidding?"
"Or Dad. I don't mind having a little brother."
She threw a piece of a donut at me. "You little—Yesterday was a disaster."
"I know."
"Do you? Do you know how embarrassing that was for me?" She pointed the donut at me. "I set up that lunch. I vouched for you. And you told one of them her teeth were too white!"
"They were."
"That's not the point!"
I leaned back. "Grandma, I'm sorry. But I can't pretend to like someone I don't."
"You didn't even try."
"I did."
"No, you didn't. You picked them apart. One by one." She set the donut down. "What's wrong with you?"
Everything.
I rubbed my face. "I'm just... not interested."
"Not interested? Or not over her?"
I froze.
I didn't answer. "I should go."
---
Dad was still on the couch when I came back downstairs.
"She okay?" he asked.
"She's fine."
"Good." He unmuted the TV. "You staying for dinner?"
"No. I have work."
He nodded. "Adam."
I stopped.
"You're not getting any younger. Your grandmother's right. You should think about settling down."
Not this again.
"I know."
"Do you?" He looked at me. "Because it doesn't seem like it."
I walked back toward the door. "You're absolutely right. I'll go out, drive around, see if there's anyone suitable out there."
He frowned. "I'm serious."
"So am I." I grabbed my keys. "See you later, Dad."