Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 103102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
“I’m going out tonight, aren’t I?”
“Are you there, River?” she asks. “Or will I get a call from Deanna in a few weeks, asking why you’re never present? Why you’re always stuck in your head? What it is you can’t stop thinking about?”
“Why would she call instead of coming over?”
“Will I?” she repeats.
“I can’t control her actions.”
“You know what I mean.”
I do. She wants me to promise I won’t get lost in thought. She wants me to promise I won’t let her illness get in the way of my romantic life. But I can’t promise that. This is a big deal. And Grandma is, will always be, my first priority.
“She likes you.”
“She likes me enough.”
“Sweetheart, what are you talking about? She was looking at you like she wants to have her way with you.”
“She was not.”
“She was. And when you went to her house today—”
“You saw that?”
“I live here, don’t I?” she asks. “What did you two do there?”
“My sex life is none of your business.”
She smiles. “Do we need to have the talk again?”
“Fuck off.”
Her smile widens. “Okay. Let’s make a deal—”
“We already have a deal. You don’t have any bargaining power.”
“You’d deny a sick woman?” A playful tone drops into her voice. It’s a joke. Only it’s not a joke, too. It’s the truth.
And it works like a charm. “Are you going to use that every time you don’t get your way?” I ask.
“Of course.”
My laugh breaks the tension in my shoulders. Grandma has always had a cutting sense of humor. Difficult situations only sharpen it.
“You can stay—”
“I can already stay—”
“No, sweetheart, this is my house,” she says. “You can only stay in it if I allow you to stay in it.”
“You’ll kick me out of your house?”
“You know I’m good for it.” She refers to my mother. She kicked her out of the house when she refused to get clean. Cutting her off seemed like the only way to help her.
Grandma didn’t know she was pregnant.
How would she have bargained if she knew? Would she have offered Mom money to leave me with her?
Why is that such an obvious solution?
No. Grandma’s illness is enough trauma for one summer. I don’t need to dive into my mommy issues, too.
She’s bluffing, though. That’s the thing she doesn’t realize. I know she’s bluffing. She kicked my mother out because it was the only solution she saw, the only way she could help with Mom’s drug addiction.
Grandma acts tough, but deep down, she wants us here as much as we want to be here.
“You promise to give this thing with Deanna your all, and I won’t object to you staying here as long as you want,” she says.
“What if she ends things tonight?”
“You talk her out of it.”
I raise a brow.
“Did you have sex?” she asks.
“Grandma.”
“She’s not going to end things before then. Or after. She’s not her sister. She’s a woman who wants a real relationship.”
“Hypothetically,” I say.
“Wouldn’t you want to talk her out of ending things?”
Yes. The desire overwhelms me. I need the spark I have with Deanna. The brightness of it.
Not the too-harsh light of the sun, but the soft shimmer of the moon.
Fuck logic.
She’s logical enough for the both of us.
“If she ended things, I’d respect her choice,” I say. “Whether I liked it or not.”
“As long as you give it your all.”
“You have to stay out of it.”
“Of course,” she says.
“I mean it.”
“Me, too.” She offers her hand.
I shake, even though I don’t believe her.
“Now…where is it you’re going tonight? And who are you going to do there?”
“If I say I need the room, will you clear the house?” I ask.
She cuts another slice of cheese and plops it in her mouth. “You know the answer to that.”
Of course she will. Fern and North, too, probably. “I won’t.”
“I can leave anyway.”
“No. I want to wait,” I say.
“You want to torture the poor girl?”
Of course she sees this as some sort of slow-burn torture. “I’ve been home two days.”
“Exactly, torture,” she says.
“Or I make it to three.”
It’s a good goal. Three days.
I’m not sure I’m going to accomplish it.
But it’s a good goal, nonetheless.
Chapter Twenty-Four
River
Sips Don’t Lie is the hippest place in the city to our south. Of course, we’re still in Orange County, so that isn’t saying much.
The decor screams of suburban kids trying to stake their claim as independent artists. Dark paint, framed records, bare light bulbs hanging from the ceiling. The kind that went out of style a few years ago.
The people fit into the place, too. Twentysomethings in a mix of designer gear and modern basics. The crowd is young, the dance floor is full, the vibe is a strange mix of Lexi and Deanna.
Pretty and popular and offbeat and thoughtful, all at once.
Plus, the jazz-inspired pop music.
The bright pink fabric of Deanna’s dress catches my eye right away. She’s standing around a table in the back, chatting with a tall, dark-haired guy in slacks and a tie.