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Goddamn it. Nothing more?
“What is wrong with you? It was more than sex, and you know it, Princess.”
She crosses her arms. “We’re too different, and you know it.”
“And more alike than you want to admit.”
“I want a life where I’m in control. Only me.”
I stare at her. “Sounds fuckin’ lonely.”
“One,” she whispers, “alone.”
“Where does that leave me, and what I want? It’s clear there’s more here than just a ship in the fuckin’ night thing.”
I pull open the door because the banging won’t stop. Right as Sidney says, “You’re a fantasy.”
The voice that answers is dry, throaty, and belongs to a woman I don’t know. “If he’s a fantasy, I’ll have him.”
“Who the hell is this woman?” I ask, beyond annoyed by everything.
The woman, who is in an impeccable suit and swept back gray hair, pinned in place by something that looks diamond-encrusted, looks at Sidney then at me.
“I’m her grandmother. Vic.”
ChapterTwenty-Three
Mack
Everything falls into place. Vic. I shoot Sidney an irritated look. “You could have said.”
“You didn’t ask.”
“Who’s the hot piece, Sid?” Vic holds out her hand with vixen red nails. “You can call me Victoria. Or Mrs. Thompson. And what are you doing with my granddaughter?”
Her gaze slides slowly over me, lingering on my muscles, sliding over the tattoos, then back up. She smiles.
“Thoroughly and completely ruining her reputation, I hope.”
“I’m trying,” I mutter.
She laughs, and I almost fucking cringe. I hadn’t meant to say that. Sidney looks like she wants the ceiling to come down and eat her alive, and she won’t look at me.
“Good.” Vic grins.
I think I might love this woman.
She’s so utterly like Sidney. Or what she could have been and could still be if she let herself. She’s the glimpses I’ve tasted and enjoyed and seen from my Princess. I’m transported forty years in the future to where I’ve lived a life with Sidney and the woman who’s with me in that small fantasy is a lot like this one. All Sidney.
Shit.
“Gran, you shouldn’t be here.”
“Of course, I should. I texted you.”
Sidney suddenly slams her hands on her hips. “I thought you were in trouble.”
“Honey, there’s no trouble I can’t handle. And I’m fine. Wait, what trouble?”
