It’s a direct hit. He visibly flinches, opening his mouth to respond before Gran beats him to it. “Jack and I have just been having a little chat, getting to know each other. Isn’t that right, Jack?”
She raises her eyebrows at him pointedly and I have to stifle a laugh.She is diabolical.I take back my scolding—in fact, I’d pay serious money to have witnessed the brutal tongue-lashing he’s surely received.
“That’s right,” Jack says, wisely agreeing, then takes another step toward me, still cradling his revoltingly adorable dog. The two of them even have matching blue eyes!Seriously, God, can you cut me a break here? This isn’t exactly fighting fair.“And while I wouldn’t blame you for wanting to kick me out, I’d very much like to talk to you.” When I don’t immediately respond, he adds a quiet, “Please.”
We stare at each other in charged silence, the hum of Gran’s ancient refrigerator practically deafening, until the scrape of a chair across the floor makes us both jump.
“What do you know, it’s time for my soap. Cass, hun, could you walk me to my room?”
Jack springs into action, helping her up from the chair. “Where to?” he asks, but I wave him off.
“It’s alright, I’ve got it. You okay to wait here?” Like he really is a mirage and if I blink, he’ll disappear.
He nods. “Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”
He looks me straight in the eye as he says it, apparently failing to see the irony of his statement, and I’m not gonna lie: part of mereallywants to punch him in the face right now. If this were an Old Hollywood movie, now is when I’d wind up and slap the leading man so hard, my hand would sting for a week. But before I can act on my impulse Gran squeezes my arm, and I don’t even have to look at her to know she knowsexactlywhat I’m thinking.
So instead of violence I choose guidance (heh) and lead Gran out of the kitchen, bracing myself for the earful of over-the-top commentary I’m sure she’s about to unleash.
She doesn’t waste a second. “Boy, is he a dish,” she hoots as soon as Jack’s out of earshot. “When I opened the door and saw that face, I nearly had a second stroke.”
I groan as I push open her bedroom door. “You know I hate your gallows humor.”
“Oh lighten up, it was just a joke.” She pauses. “Don’t have a stroke!” She throws her head back and cackles.
“Still not laughing,” I remind her, helping her onto the bed. “What did you guys talk about for two hours, anyway?”
“What do you think we talked about, the weather? He’s obviously here to win you back! And you better hear him out,” she warns as I get her settled against the pillows.
“I thought you said he was a loser who doesn’t deserve me.” I switch onDays of our Livesand hand her the remote.
“I didn’t know him then,” she says defensively.
“Whatever happened to ‘Don’t give him the milk for free’?”
Her smile is deviant. “Forget the milk—if it were me, he’d be dining at an all-you-can-eat buffet!”
“Alright, that’s about enough excitement for you today.” I lean over to tuck the blanket around her, and before I can clock what she’s doing, she’s reached out and pinched the apples of my cheeks—hard.
“Ow!” I swat her hands away. “What was that for?”
“You need a little color in your cheeks. Men like a little flush.” She sits back again, pleased with herself.
“You are amenace.” I rub my cheek tenderly; I swear there’ll be a bruise. “And since when are you such a soft touch, anyway? Some smooth talker with a pretty face is all it takes to win you over?”
She holds up a finger. “Don’t forget the money.”
I groan. “Oh,Gran.”
“What? It’s like my mama always used to say: ‘It’s just as easy to marry a rich man as a poor man.’ I didn’t listen, but you still can.”
I exhale loudly and move to leave. “I was looking for some real advice, but I guess I’m on my own here.”
“Fine, wait.” She grabs my sleeve and sighs dramatically, mock–put out. “You want to know what I think you should do?”
“Please.”
She looks me straight in the eye. “Swallow your pride, forgive him, and let yourself be happy.”
