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“Not really,” he grumbled. “I only agreed to come because Dad was and I knew he’d let me leave early if I asked. Mum won’t.”
“Poor baby.” I reached up to pinch his cheek, but he avoided it by leaning away. “Want me to get you out of here? I’ll tell her you have a headache.”
“Nah, she’ll just keep on at me for the next week.”
“Think about it this way. Only six months and you’ll be at university.”
“Yeah, because going to Cambridge gotyouaway from her.”
Touché.
“And you’re almost thirty and still go for dinner once a month. There’s no hope for me,” Vincent grumbled.
“Oh, the second you turn eighteen, you’re doing me a solid and telling them you don’t want to eat with me anymore,” I told him, sipping my wine. “Part of those dinners wassibling bonding time. Apparently, you peeing in my shoes when you were five didn’t bond us closely enough.”
He wrinkled his nose up. “That’s the weirdest sibling bonding time I’ve ever had.”
“You can say that again. Me blackmailing you into mowing my lawn was far more effective.”
Granny eyed me. “You blackmailed a teenager?”
“Yes. Don’t act like you never did it to me,” I shot back.
“Good to see you take after me after all.”
“Jesus Christ, don’t scare me like that.”
Vincent laughed. “Dad wants you to call him, by the way.”
I blinked at him. “You couldn’t lead with that?”
“No. If I had, I’d already be back spending my Saturday night with my mother, and I can’t think of anything worse.”
Ah, to be seventeen again.
“Fine,” I replied. “He couldn’t tell me himself?”
“Maybe. He said you didn’t answer when he called you earlier, and you haven’t text him back either.”
“Of course not. I’m at a wedding. What kind of rude little shit gets their phone out at a wedding?”
“He did,” Granny said.
Vincent bobbed his head. “I did. I was playing Candy Crush during dinner.”
Granny chuckled. “It’s like you’re trying to get your mother to send you away.”
“He is,” I said at the same time he said, “I am.”
“Sometimes I wonder how you’re related because you look nothing alike,” she said, looking at us both. “Then you do that, and your father comes out. It’s dreadful.”
I dipped my chin, pinching the bridge of my nose.
“I don’t like it either,” Vincent replied. “He wants you to call him tomorrow, Grace.”
“I’ll try,” I said vaguely. “If not, I’ll call him when I’m home on Monday.”
“I’ll tell him.” He looked around. “Is there anyone here I can talk to?”
