In His Bed (18+)

Chapter 35

The next day dawned gloomy and grey. Laying in my bed, I rolled over and picked up my phone again, disappointed to see nothing new from Jason.

Annoyed, I set it down and flopped onto my back.

He'd returned yesterday from a week in NYC, doing something at his company's corporate offices.

Thinking back, I tried to remember exactly what his job was, but I was failing utterly.

I knew he was some kind of consultant – it's why he travelled so damn much – but I couldn't say more beyond that.

Either way, he was back in town, and after the week I'd had, I needed to see him.

Not that I could do that right now though...

Heaving myself upright, I stretched, shifting my legs over to rest on the floor.

Before I could sate that particular need, I had to get up and get ready for lunch with my grandparents.

Lunch because Mom needed to spend the afternoon resting for her night shift.

With one last glance at my phone, I sighed, standing, and shuffling toward my closet.

Walking into my grandparent's house, I carried my bagged dress on one arm and hugged my grandmother with the other.

"Hey, Baby – why don't you take that downstairs?"

Releasing her, I nodded, making my way through the kitchen toward the stairs.

Down in the basement, I crossed the carpeted floor to the wildly multicolored chaos that was my grandmother's sewing room.

A lifetime of quilting and crafting and sewing had accumulated hundreds of cloth remnants, and they spilled out of cubbyholes and onto a large worktable.

Varying in size from small scraps to almost full bolts, they came in every color under the sun and bore patterns that ranged from "cute" to "what the hell were they thinking?".

Laying the dress near the old and well-loved sewing machine, I paused to run my fingers over the half-finished baby-blue quilt sitting off to the side - no doubt a gift for one of her friends.

Smiling fondly, I thought about the baby-pink one I had sitting in my closet at home, a relic from my childhood.

As I heard the faint voice of my grandfather above me, I turned and headed back upstairs.

In the kitchen, Mom and Grandpa were pouring over a spiral notebook.

"-so, I was thinking I'd plant another row of beans, just to be safe. I also want to try a couple different varieties of tomato this year, and your mother is insisting on zucchini."

"She's right," Mom spoke up. "Zucchini can substitute in for a lot of ingredients – you'd be eating plants and you wouldn't even know it."

Grandpa snorted. "Forgive me for not jumping for joy."

Mom glared at him, "Also, what's this 'I' nonsense? You're in no condition to be setting up a garden by yourself."

"Well," he grinned up at her, "I don't suppose you'd be willing to help me?"

She rolled her eyes, "Fine. But we're also planting squash, and I don't want to hear any complaining about it."

"Deal."

Looking up, Mom caught sight of me, "Hey, we're going to head out to the Garden Center for supplies – you want to come along?"

"Actually," Grandma spoke up, turning away from the stovetop, "while everything's cooking, we should probably get those measurements."