“That I assume you’re about to share with me.”

“Damn right.” He nodded and met my eyes. “You can give it up. Tell her you don’t think the two of you will work out and put an end to it.”

I swallowed.

I didn’t want to do that. Not really. There was… something… something I’d been running from with her… something that might just be special.

“Or you can run with it. See where it goes. It might work out, it might not. If it goes wrong, oh well. You tried. But if it goes right, mm?” Grandpa’s lips tugged into a smile. “It goes right.”

I sat back in the armchair and blew out a deep breath I felt in my bones.

“But you can’t sit here, hiding in my house, waiting for someone else to make that decision for you. You can’t hope she’ll suddenly give up and change her mind and let you off the hook.” His eyes were so full of knowledge and wisdom as he scooted to the edge of the sofa cushion and gripped his walking stick. “You deserve to be happy, Miles. So does she. If you aren’t willing to take the risk and make her happy, then the least you can do is stop lollygagging and let her go so she’s free to find someone who will.”

“What if I can’t make her happy?” I looked at him as he got up. “Grandpa… What if anything I can do for her isn’t enough?”

“You’ll never know unless you give it a bloody good go,” he replied, peering down at me. “One doesn’t wake up on a morning and fall into a pool of happiness. You have to look for happiness. You have to learn where to find it, and sometimes you have to make your own. The one thing all happy people have in common is that they take risks.”

I drew in a deep breath and slowly let it out.

“Happy. People. Take. Risks.” He inclined his head in my direction and held my gaze for a moment. “You understand what I’m saying?”

“I understand.”

“Good. Now I’m going for a nap because you’re exhausting.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Please tidy the tulips on your way out. They’re a mess. A bit like you.”

I smiled as Mars trotted off after him. “I’ll handle the tulips, Grandpa.”

“Thank you. I’m too old for this shit.”

***

I finished raking the leaves from one of the picnic areas and set the rake on top of them in the wheelbarrow, then carefully navigated my way through the people meandering along at a snail’s pace.

I hated being in the public areas when they were open. People walked too slow. They always stopped in the middle of a path for a chinwag with a friend they’d seen at the Post Office just four hours before, and because people never got out of the way, it took twenty minutes to walk a five-minute route.

Thank God I’d been listened to when I suggested a few extra gates.