“You’re overgeneralizing. Your mother isn’t that bad. Wanting to know the details of your life is not the same as wanting to offer a diagnosis.”

“Things are easy right now, Granny. It’s nice not worrying about all the complicated family stuff. It’s only been a few months.”

She didn’t say anything in response, but I could feel her stare.

I stopped and turned around. She stood there, her look intense, her hands on her hips. “Are you playing games with this boy?” she asked.

I huffed. “No. Why would you say that?”

“He’s taking you to meet his family, isn’t he?”

“Not until next month.”

She grunted something incoherent.

“What? So you’re grunting your opinions at me now?”

“Listen. I’m not trying to meddle. You’re a grown woman, and I know you’re going to do what you’re going to do. But the way I see it, you’re keeping this man at a safe distance. I’m wondering why that is.”

Stupid grandmotherly perception. I’d been dancing around the same realization myself for days. I’d agreed to go to Bristol with Jamie because I wanted to go, but thinking about it made me panic a little. Every time I thought about our relationship growing more serious, a tiny flame of fear flickered in my belly. “I’m being cautious,” I said. “Is that really such a bad thing?”

“Is that why you can’t tell your mama? You’re being cautious.”

“She called you, didn’t she?”

“It doesn’t matter if she did. I’m still speaking the truth.”

“It’s not a bad thing to be careful, Granny. I don’t want Abuela getting her hopes up until I’m sure this is the real deal.”

She lowered herself onto the back-porch steps. “What makes you think it’s not the real deal?”

I couldn’t explain my hesitation, really. “It’s not that I think it’s not. I’m just trying to take it slow.” I dropped a few more beans into the basket.

“I think that’s smart. But if you’re being cautious while he’s holding you close? Sounds a little like dancing with one shoe off.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means you’re in it but not really in it. And at a much higher risk of getting stepped on. Best mind your toes, Lane. Or in this case, his.”

I saw her point. Keenly. And spent the next twenty minutes of bean picking in quiet introspection. When I’d dated my only serious college boyfriend, we’d fallen in love pretty fast. There was intense chemistry between us—all kinds of sparks even from simple stuff like hand-holding. But the relationship didn’t have a ton of depth underneath all those sparks. When things had gotten tough in the form of family disgruntlement, we hadn’t had the roots to weather the storm.