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“Crème brûlée.” I perk up when the dessert is brought out. “Let me.” I take the two plates from Constance, not wanting her to get close to Rowan after what she did the last time. I place Rowan’s in front of him. Miss Perfect Boobs can keep them to herself. I know Rowan said he has no interest in her, but I still don’t want him getting a nice peek at them.
“Thanks.” Constance gives a small laugh, confused by my action.
Grams only smirks. “Tick tick tick, every night. The ghost at midnight.” She laughs to herself.
I can’t tell who she’s talking to or what she’s talking about, so I let it pass. That’s Grams.
“This is the second night you’ve joined for dinner.” Constance is practically purring. “You're getting addicted to my food, Ro.”
“Ro?” I whisper under my breath. Did she give him a nickname before I did? I try to keep my face emotionless, but I’m terrible at it. My eyebrows are already pulling together, my lips pursing.
“Rowan,” he corrects her. Well then. I sit up a bit straighter, loving the fact that he corrected her. Again, I try to mask my smugness but likely fail.
“He wants to have dinner with me,” I say, admittedly like a dope.
“Can’t say I blame him, sweetie.” Constance gives me a warm smile.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt out. I don’t want to be a jerk. Still, it felt good to have pushed back. I never did that back at school with the other girls.
“Don’t be sorry. If Rowan is yours and you think another woman is coming for him, get those claws out. Nothing wrong with standing up for yourself.” That was the last thing I thought she would say to me. “I’m a bit of a flirt. It’s my nature, but I can by all means flirt with you.” She winks at me.
“I never did anything like that, but I did go to an all girls school. There was some hooking up when the lights went out.”
“And here I thought I was paying for a school with a stick up its ass,” Grams chimes in.
“Believe me, the stick was there. I can promise you that.” I take a bite of my crème brûlée, letting out a small moan. “This is so good.”
“Glad you enjoy it, sweetie. I’m going to straighten the kitchen and head out.”
“Speaking of school. Your mother called me today. Or maybe it was tomorrow?” Grams pokes the crispy top of her dessert, her brow furrowing. “Last week? Hmmm.”
My stomach sinks.
“What did she have to say?” Did she bring up that I was supposed to be on spring break next week and going to visit her? Please, no.
“She mentioned the possibility of you switching schools to move back closer to her.”
“What?” I gape at her. “Why?” My mom never mentioned a thing to me about going to a different school. Once again, she’s trying to control everything in my life. It’s why this little slice of freedom I’m allowing myself is so important. Who knows when I’ll have a say in my choices again?
“Firstly, you’re an adult, Charlie. The Devereaux family pays for your education. I might not have had much pull when it came to which boarding school you attended, but college is different. If you want to switch, that’s fine with me, but I don’t want her forcing you to do it. It’s not up to her, and I want you to know that.”
“Thanks, Grams.” It’s sweet, but I don’t want to switch. I want to step back for a bit. I wonder how Grams would feel about that.
“But there is only one reason I can think of why your mother would be in a hurry to get you back home.”
“She’s gonna virgin bride me to some preacher's son or something,” I half joke.
“What?” Rowan booms, making me jump. It doesn’t faze Grams.
“I’m not marrying anyone.”
“You haven’t even had your ho years yet. Of course you can’t marry anyone.” Leave it to my Grams; she never minces words. “Why, when I was your age, I was on my back all weekend. And if I didn’t have a man around, sometimes my fingers would get pruny from all the time I had them stuck up my–”
“Grams!” I gasp.
Rowan swipes a hand down his face.
“I’m only letting you know that your mom can’t play those games with you. I want to ask you something.”
“What?” Okay, now I’m busted.
“The bank card you have.”
“The one you gave me the other day?”
“No.” She shakes her head. “You have a bank card. Your mother should have given it to you.”
“Yes, it’s for when I need small things. I have to ask when I want to use it.”
“You don’t have to do any such thing, Charlie. That card is yours. Not your mother’s.” Grams’ expression is tense. I know she and my mom don’t get along. Mom does a bit of ass kissing to try and stay on good terms because Grams is where the money comes from. My father might not send support, not that I’m aware of anyway, but Grams always has. “The account is in my name and yours. Joanna merely had a card to it. Would it bother you if I cut off her access?”
