“So you’re here with your grandmother for the summer. Will you have any guests joining you?” I look at him from the corner of my eye. “Boyfriend? Girlfriend? Husband? Wife? Partner?” “Subtle,” I tell him. “Not my forte.” When I don’t respond, he asks, “Maybe a distant cousin on your mother’s side?” “The wedding’s next Saturday,” I say, deadpan. Charlie looks at me strangely. His dimples are in place, but something shifts in his eyes. “You’re funny.” “I’m not really.” I don’t think anyone has accused me of being funny before. “I disagree.”
