Best Served Cold

Grandma laughed. “Random information.”

“That’s exactly what I said. Did you know lobsters didn’t mate for life?”

“Yes, but then again, I didn’t rely on a nineties sitcom to provide me with accurate knowledge.” She paused and looked over her shoulder. “Or for Phoebe Buffet to know much of any real-world facts. Mystical was more her stretch of knowledge.”

“I know. I just assumed it was true.”

“Try the Discovery Channel if you want facts.”

“I’ll just use Google.” I shrugged and lay down on my belly to make sure I didn’t overlap onto the white.

“So. What’s going on with you two?”

My mind drifted back to our conversation last night. Technically, we were back together, but saying it out loud felt weird. Not that it was wrong or that it was stupid, but labeling it…

I don’t know. Labeling it felt weird. In my eyes, we just were. I hadn’t expected this to happen, and a part of me was still trying to wrap my head around it all.

I was due to reopen the store in two days. Today would be the last day of renovations, and tomorrow would be for reorganizing and making all the ice cream.

I wanted to focus on that, not my relationship with Chase and putting it into a tidy box. I didn’t think it needed to be in a tidy box.

I mean, I’d woken up in his bed wearing nothing but one of his t-shirts. You didn’t do that with booty calls.

Or exes.

Unless you were dating them again.

So, there we were. Not that I could use that description to my grandmother, of course.

“I assume by your silence—and sleepover—that things are going well,” she said.

“That’s a good way to put it.” I sat back up and crossed my legs, carefully resting the brush on the top of the paint can. “We’re…in a place that I didn’t think we’d get to again.”

“What she’s trying to say,” Chase’s voice came from behind me. “Is that we’re back together, but if it isn’t an ice cream tub, she doesn’t want to put a label on it.”

I looked over my shoulder at him as Grandma laughed. “That was helpful. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He grinned, then bent down and kissed me.

I blushed and dipped my head.

Grandma snorted. “Please. I’ve seen far worse from far uglier. I’m glad you kids sorted your issues out. Stubborn as all hell you were, Rae.”

“Can we not?” I asked. “Are you here to help? How’s the vanilla ice cream?”

“Not giving Marnie a panic attack anymore.” His eyes sparkled. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. But I won’t do it again, Mr. Order-In-The-Ice cream.”

Grandma tutted. “Blasphemy.”

Chase held up his hands. “Don’t worry. I won’t be ordering any more ice cream.”

I frowned. “What does that mean.”

“You’ll see.” He half-smiled. “Also, no, I’m not here to help. Sorry—I know I said I would, but your grandpa called me about half an hour ago and asked if I’d give him a hand to get your final two tables sanded so you can paint them tomorrow.”

I groaned, burying my face in my hands. “I’m never going to get everything done.”

“Yes, you are.” Chase crouched in front of me and cupped my chin. “Between us, we can do it. Even if we have to coerce Sophie into getting her hands dirty at the kitchen sink.”

Yeah. And that was a flying pig that just went past outside.

“He’s right,” Grandma sang, still bent over the huge chalkboard. “We’ll get it done. I promise.”

“I’m holding you both to that,” I warned them.

“Duly noted,” she replied.

Chase just grinned. “I’ll see you later when we bring the tables, okay?”

“Okay. And try not to put any quiz shows on in the garage, all right? I need those tables.”

He kissed me again before backing to the door. “I make no promises. Also, I did actually bring reinforcements.” He shot me a small look before stepping and making way for my mom to fill the doorframe.

“Hey,” she said softly. “I heard you needed a hand.”

My first instinct was to tell her no—to tell her I didn’t need her and to leave.

But, for the first time since she’d arrived at the house a few days ago, I looked her in the eye. I saw her masked pain and how badly she wanted to help, and there was no way I could turn her away.

Besides—I’d worked through my issues with Chase. I wanted to do that with her, too.

I picked up a clean paintbrush and held it out for her. “The high counter needs painting pink if you don’t mind getting your hands dirty.”

She smiled, taking the brush from me. “I got it. Let’s do this.” She immediately bustled over to the counter and as she searched for the screwdriver to open the can of paint, I met Grandma’s eyes.

She smiled.

I did, too.

Maybe I could get this store open on time.