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I thanked him for the invitation, and we got back to the game. Drinking, gambling, all the things that would make my late grandma shudder. “Sounds like a good time,” I replied, continuing with the game.
When the night was over, with another win for me, Jonas and Steve left, but Cohen held me back.
“What’s up?” I asked as the garage door slid shut, blocking us from the outside world.
He scratched the back of his neck. “Well, here’s the deal. I don’t want to just drink beer and play poker for Jonas’s bachelor party, but I have no idea what else to do.”
“Steve didn’t have any ideas?” I asked.
“We’re all pretty laid-back guys. We didn’t want strippers or a party bus or anything like that, and going to the bar I own just feels like a cop-out.”
I grinned, thinking of the party bus I’d been on for my high school best friend’s wedding. There had been more beer than common sense on that thing. “Y’all live minutes away from the ocean. Why not do some deep-sea fishing or a kayak tour or something active like that? Get away from the city and clear your head for a day.”
Cohen nodded. “Steve’s shit on motorboats—gets seasick—but a kayak could be fine. We can always do beer and poker afterward if Jonas wants... Hell, it’s just a couple hours to San Diego...”
I patted his shoulder. “Now you’re thinking.”
He grinned. “Thanks. I guess I’ve lived here so long I’ve forgotten what we have.” He opened the side door leading into his kitchen, gesturing for me to follow him.
“Dallas is pretty landlocked, so I’m trying to enjoy the water while I can. We have lakes, but it’s not the same.” I followed him into a well-lit kitchen area that was far fancier than anything I’d grown up with. They had matching dishes, glass cups, and herbs in kitschy containers.
“Nice place,” I said.
He grinned my way. “It’s all Birdie.”
“How long have y’all been together?” I asked on the way to the front door.
“Almost three years now. One year married. Best years of my life.”
The comment made me smile. I hoped to find that someday. Soon.
28
Henrietta
Confession: There are some things even I can’t plan for.
Wakingup Wednesday morning and not having to go to work was a huge relief. I hardly ever took time off, but I had vacation days saved up, and I was excited to spend them with my best friends.
Before meeting Birdie and Mara a few years back, I never really had girlfriends. I was always that girl who hung around my brothers or read books by myself. Then when my brothers started dating, I got girl time with their girlfriends (now wives and soon-to-be wife) when they came cover. Now that I had best friends, I wouldn’t trade them for anything.
Mara wanted to start wedding week off with a relaxing day at the beach, so I put on my one-piece, then slipped my cover-up dress over my head, packed a beach bag and left my room to help Grandma with her morning medications.
She wasn’t in the living room, reading her Bible like she usually did in the mornings. So I checked the kitchen, thinking maybe she’d gotten her toast, but still came up empty. Worry settled in my gut, making it hard to move. I walked to her bedroom and found her lying on the floor by her closet, her pants half on and her arms covering her face.
“Grandma?” I choked out.
When she moved her hands, I saw the tears on her cheeks.
I hurried to her, kneeling next to her on the floor. “Grandma, are you hurt?”
She slowly nodded. “I fell getting dressed, and my hip... I think it might be broken.”
“Why didn’t you call for me?”
“I didn’t want to bother anyone.”
If I wasn’t so worried, I would have scolded her. “I’m calling an ambulance,” I said, getting my cell from my purse. I tried to keep my voice from shaking as I spoke with the dispatcher and gave them directions to my house.