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“The one with the evil lawyer?”
“Everyone thinks a woman with power is evil.”
“Doesn’t she have people killed?” I ask.
“Okay, she’s a little evil,” Grandma says. “But that’s what it takes to succeed.”
“How’d you do so well then?”
She laughs. “I’ve made my share of compromises.”
“Anything you regret?”
She pretends not to notice thethoughts of a dying womantone to the question. “There’s a lot I’d do differently, but I don’t regret anything. How could I when I have you?”
This isn’t like her. She’s pragmatic. She moves forward. She doesn’t look backward. “When did you get sentimental?”
“When I had your mother. And your aunt.”
“Kids? That’s what does it?”
“Yes. But it makes you painfully pragmatic, too. There’s no one who fights harder to survive than a mom.”
“You sure about that?”Shit. I’m supposed to stay away from heavy things. Not dive headfirst.
“Oh, sweetheart.” She pats my shoulder. “Your mom is fighting. It’s just a different battle for her.”
“Shewasfighting.” The first time she went to rehab. The second, too. All these years since her last slip? Not so much.
“I won’t tell you she’ll get there, because I don’t know. But I know she loves you.”
“Grandma.” I don’t want to get into this. I won’t get into this.
“Okay,” she says. “Are you going to tell me about the date?”
“It wasn’t a date.”
“But you were with Lexi?”
“No. Deanna.”
“Deanna Huntington?” she asks.
“Do you know another?”
“The brunette who lives next door?” She can’t help but be incredulous.
“It wasn’t a date,” I say.
“You spent the night with her, but it wasn’t a date?”
“A few hours is not spending the night. But it’s a long story.” And I’m way too tired for this conversation. Maybe still buzzed a little, too.
“You like her,” she says.
“Based on what?”
“The way you said her name.”
