My mother often told me, “Don’t sit on Grandpa’s lap.” I never understood why. One day, I didn’t listen to her and sat down anyway. Grandpa smiled, leaned close to my ear, and whispered, “Can you come sleep beside me tonight?”

“Grandpa isn’t young anymore.”

But something about that explanation never completely convinced me.

Sometimes I noticed the worried way Mom looked at him. And whenever Grandpa caught her staring, he would simply smile and change the subject.

That Sunday, our whole family was at Grandpa’s house.

After lunch, Mom went into the kitchen.

I saw Grandpa sitting alone in his chair, walked over to him, and without thinking, climbed onto his lap.

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“Lily!” I heard my mother call from the kitchen.

But it was already too late. Grandpa placed a hand on my shoulder, leaned toward me, and whispered very quietly:

“Can you come sleep beside me tonight?”

I froze.

“What?”

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He only smiled.

“Don’t tell anyone yet. Especially your mother.”

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At that exact moment, Mom walked back into the room.

“What did he say to you?”

“Nothing.”

I don’t know why I lied. But on the drive home, I couldn’t keep it inside anymore.

“Mom?”

“Yes?”