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Bit of both.
“Let’s go!” she repeated.
Jen grabbed her cane and tapped it against the floor as she walked.
I paused and listened. Was she—? No. There was no way.
She was tapping it to the beat of Another One Bites The Dust.
Immy pressed her fingers into her temples and closed her eyes.
Jen started humming along with the tapping.
“I have an idea,” I whispered to Immy. “Put her to bed, and I’ll find you cake and wine.”
She looked at me pointedly. “I can’t live like this, Mason.”
I laughed and wrapped her in a quick hug. “Go. We can talk whenever you want to.”
With a sigh, she followed Jen out of the door, shaking her head, and muttering about hiding the newspaper.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN – IMMY
Adult O’Clock
“You can’t just harass him,” I said, shutting the front door. “You can’t go over there and demand information on things we haven’t even decided yet!”
Grandma sniffed and opened the cupboard under the sink. She pulled out a packet of Twizzlers and a bottle of whiskey, making me balk.
How long had those been hidden there?
Damn it.
“Well, get on with it and decide,” Grandma said, taking her treats through to the living room.
Okay, well, she wasn’t going to drink the JD from the bottle.
I grabbed a glass and followed her. “We can’t just snap our fingers and decide.”
“Why the hell not?” She took the glass and poured herself a healthy measure, then looked at me as if to say ‘take this bottle and you’re dead.’
“Because it’s not that simple.”
“Not that simple? Pish!” She waved her hand through the air. “You kids make everything so gosh darn complicated. You know how your poppy asked me to be his girlfriend?”
“Yes.” A smile ghosted across my face. “I remember.”
““Jennifer,” he said, “You’re my girlfriend now, and you’re not arguing it.””
“And you never did.”
“And I never did!” She lifted her glass and titled it to the ceiling ever so slightly. “If that cantankerous old bastard could get it over and done within five seconds, you young whippersnappers sure as hell can, you hear me, Imogen?”
“Grandma—”
“No. I know he hurt you. Gosh, girl, we all know. We’re all fed up of hearing your whinin’ now.”
I folded my arms across my chest. “Stop exaggerating.”
“No. I’m much less entertaining if I do.”
I rolled my eyes. It was the only thing to do when she was in one of these moods.
“You’re over it. You don’t bang a man you have a grudge against.”
“I don’t know, Grandma. That depends how good the sex is.”
“Imogen!”
“You brought it up!”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “Imogen Anderson, listen to me right now. If you like that man, put your ego up your ass and go and get him.”
“As motivating as your little speech is,” I said dryly. “You’re missing the point, if you’d let me talk.”
“I suppose I can give you ten seconds.”
“He has a child.”
Grandma opened her mouth, then stopped. Slowly, she tilted her head to the side and nodded in agreement.
“He has a daughter,” I said, sinking into the chair opposite her. “It’s not like we just met and we can go headfirst into it. Even if you stop thinking about everything that happened six years ago, that doesn’t change. She comes as part of the package, and I can’t just change her life in a crazy way because I might still be in love with her dad.”
“You’re right,” Grandma said, a soft edge to her voice. “Absolutely, Imogen, you are correct.”
“Thank you.”
“But you’re missing one big point.”
“What’s that?”
She leaned forward, her eyes glinting with wisdom. “Any changes to Maya’s life are not your decision to make.”
“I know that. I—”
“Do you?” She raised her penciled-in eyebrows. “Because you either don’t know it, or you’re using her as the excuse why you shouldn’t go next door and tell that man exactly how you feel.”
Um.
“I’m not. She’s the sweetest kid, and I don’t want to do anything that could ever hurt her.”
“That’s not your choice, though, is it? It’s Mason’s. If he didn’t want to date, he wouldn’t have opened himself up to you. You’re the one who’s pushed him away, Imogen. You’re not forcing your way into his life. Ever since he saw you, he opened his arms and is willing to risk not only his heart, but his daughter’s, too.”
“I don’t want him to do that for me.”
“That’s not your choice,” she repeated. “That’s his. Now, you can either accept it and all the responsibilities that come with dating a man who has a child, who you love, or you can tell him no.”
I shifted in my seat. Was it really that simple?
“Because let me tell you, sweetheart. If you don’t want that man, someone else will. And they won’t push him away the way you have. He might not ever love another woman the way I think he loves you, but he’ll love her well enough, and you’ll have to sit here and watch them.” She sat back, swishing the liquid in her glass. “Now, what are you gonna do? Are you gonna pull out the balls I know you possess? Or are you going to run away like you’ve run away from every other guy you’ve dated since him?”
