Page 25 of Marked With Love

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“What did you do wrong?” he asks, not moving from the front door.

“Why are you assuming I did anything wrong?” The truth is, I don’t even know what I did to piss her off. That’s what I’m here to find out, but Alfred doesn’t need to know that.

“You’re here with a black eye and a big box from Chanel. A man would have to be dumb and blind not to see that this is an apology gift.” He sniffs. “I’d be remiss in my duties to Lady Morgan if I allowed you in and she did not want to see you. Wait here.” He slams the door in my face.

I wait for a half second before I decide to take matters into my own hands, and by that, I mean I find a window, pop it open, and climb through. A woman shrieks and throws something soft and warm in my face. It’s a towel fresh out of the dryer. I must be in the laundry room. I hold the towel above my head and wave it like a surrender flag. “I come in peace.”

The woman, dressed in black pants and a white top, brushes her hair down. “Are you here to rescue me from a life of drudgery? Because I’m ready to be whisked away, particularly by you.”

“Ahhhh, actually I’m here to see Morgan.” I tap the white box. “I’ve got a present for her.”

The woman sighs. “Of course, you are. She’s probably with her grandma watching TV.”

I dig into my back pocket and hand her all my cash. “This can’t free you completely, but maybe you can buy yourself a spa day.”

The woman’s eyes grow wide as she eyes the money. “Let me take you right to Morgan. You seem like a good egg.”

“I’m the best egg ever,” I confirm.



I fighta yawn as we watchThe Final Girlsfor the millionth time. It’s part scary movie and part comedy. It’s been one of my favorites since it came out.

“You’d be one of the first to go now,” Grams teases me as she knits a whole freaking blanket, not taking her eyes off the TV.

“The virgins being safe in scary movies isn’t true anymore. Everyone knows that,” I rebuff.

“What are you making?” Her nose scrunches at my own creation.

“What? It’s a tiny hat.” I hold it up to show her my yellow creation.

“For an elf baby?”

I snort a laugh. “Or a cat.”

“Ah, the one you’re getting?”

“I might gift it or something.” I shrug it off.

I wasn’t thinking about Gremlin or his owner at all when I started making the little hat. In fact, I left my phone in my room so I’d stop checking to see if had Eros texted or called. It was no use because he never did. I guess he didn’t care that I snuck out on him. It might have been a big relief to him, for all I know. That thought sours my mood.

“And whose cat would you be gifting it to?” Grams asks, breaking me from my thoughts.

“Is this an interrogation?” I jump up from the sofa. “This is supposed to be knitting and scary movies. Do I need to call George?”

“George is my lawyer,” Grams points out. “You hate him, remember?”

“Yes, I remember. I dislike most people, so it’s not hard to recall who I hate.” Grams’ phone starts to go off. She shoves her glasses up her nose before she picks it up.

“Google alert,” she says as she clicks the screen.

“You get Google alerts?”

“It’s set up for the Hoffman names.”

“Did that come with this smart house stuff?” Grams is more tech savvy than me.

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