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I take a deep breath. “This isn’t really an appropriate conversation to have in public, is it?”
“Nonsense. We’re not talking about the mechanics, are we?”
Jude grabs onto the edge of her chair and her eyes shut tightly. She looks like she might faint.
“No, but that’s something between Jude and me. Conversations we should be having in private.”
“Well, if you haven’t had them already, you’re grossly behind,” Gram says and begins picking at her bowl of fruit.
I can hear Jude’s breath. Measured and strong. In through her mouth, out through her nose. A panic attack or maybe something worse.
This was all so foolish. I should never have agreed, should have laughed right in her face when she suggested the idea.
But I gave in because…
Because of what? My legacy? My family?
Because somewhere deep down I’ve wanted Jude Parry and now I could finally have her?
No. None of that matters. I harden my jaw. She won’t have to say another word. I’ve got it. “What else, Gram?”
Chapter 9
Jude
Theachehasn’tbeenthis bad in a long time, the persistent twist of some sort of searing knife in my uterus. Stress certainly doesn’t help the matter. And all Chase has done is cause me stress over the past three days.
Starting with leaving me before I woke up, then the offensive delivery of Gatorade and Plan B after crooning to me in the midst of the dark that he wanted tofucking impregnateme, and now, I have to sit here and listen to Gram shove the Gladstone name in my face with all the baggage that comes with it.
Caroline was right. She pulls not a single punch even though I’m sure if she actually tried it, she’d break her fragile knuckles.
Not to mention, all during brunch, Chase was doing this weird thing where he kept trying to get me to eat the sides of bacon and pancakes he ordered. I could barely stomach what I had ordered, let alone the greasy breakfast meat and sticky syrup. Not to mention, if I had taken even a bite of the pancakes, Gram would have made me spit them out.
When we’re finally released from Gram’s presence like subjects from a queen, I am livid. All I want to do is go home, but even that won’t help. Since my insurance was revoked, I haven’t been able to get a refill of the insulin I use to control my PCOS. I’m dancing on the edge of a razor blade with nothing but a prayer that something out there in the universe will take pity on me.
Theonlything Chase has going for him in this moment is opening my car door for me. At least he’s occasionally a gentleman.
Once we are firmly in the car, doors closed, Chase lets out a huge sigh. “I apologize on her behalf.”
“You should apologize on yours.” It just comes up like vomit.
Chase breathes, his hands glued to the steering wheel.
“You’re despicable.”
His hands tighten.
“How dare you let me sit there and take all of that from her? How dare you letCarolinetake her shit for all these years?”
“She’s my grandmother.”
“She’s a tyrant,” I hiss. I wouldn’t be nearly so vehement if it weren’t for the way my guts feel as though they’re twisting together. “Not to mention leaving me the other morning and sending me that – that –”
“Did you take it?”
I turn to look at him, wide-eyed and pissed beyond belief. “Excuse me?”
Chase swallows, a tight wave from his jaw and down his throat. There’s something so utterly satisfying about the image of him trying to keep it together when my anger is coming right for him. “Did you take the Plan B?”
