She was finding herself post-legal-career. He was there for stress release after medical boards, purely for the surf and the smoothie bowls. After a short vacation romance, they’d parted, not thinking they’d see other again, but then only months later, both in their native Florida, they’d unexpectedly reunited. That was when Joey had first contemplated something real between them. She’d had so many situationships in the years after Leo, but after leaving law, Joey had longed for something bigger. Something real. Maybe she’d finally believed she deserved it. She’d let herself accept so little after Leo because that was what she’d thought she was worth.

On one of their first dates in Florida, she’d straight-up asked Grant where things between them were going. To her surprise, he’d flipped it on her. Asked her what she wanted.

And Joey had said without pretense, Everything. I want everything. And I understand if that’s not where you’re at.

And he’d said with zero hesitation, I can do everything. I want to be with you, Joey. I want everything with you too.

“So you know how I got drinks after work with your dad? He’s stressed about his wedding speech.” Grant rubbed the crease her waist made when she curled around him. He was the first man in so long—since Leo probably—who didn’t make her tense up when he stroked her there. “He thinks your mom will overshadow him.”

“She probably will.” Joey laughed.

“Anyway, I think he likes me.”

“He loves you.” It was true. And Grant was Jewish too. Yep, she’d hit the jackpot.

Bea and Scott didn’t really care about the Jewish factor. Jewish was her grandmother’s non-negotiable. “I don’t want to have to say this, Joey, but if you don’t marry a Jew, I won’t consider you my granddaughter anymore.”

G had first said this phrase when Joey was seven. She remembered it because she’d come out of the pool, teeth chattering, and G had been holding a towel and looking at her funny.

Joey had said, “Okay, Grandmama. I’ll marry a Jew.” This had made her grandmother beam. She’d bought Joey a chocolate Popsicle.

Joey turned her head to the shadow of Grant’s face. “I love you.” She ran her fingers through his hair, but instead of its usual fluffy, it felt greasy, tacky. “Did you do something to your hair?”

“Oh.”

“What is it?” She went for the light.

He swatted her hand before she could flick the switch. “I bought this shampoo. It’s supposed to make it…thicker.”

“Babe, there’s nothing wrong with your hair.” She’d seen him the other day, checking out his slightly receding hairline with a pocket mirror. She hadn’t realized he’d gotten so sensitive about it.