She's Up to No Good(31)

“Are you—?” She held her breath. Was he saying what she thought?

“No. No. Not in a car at night with you on my lap. No.” He went silent. “But if your father agreed . . . ? Is that something you would . . . want?”

Her heart was beating so hard she thought her chest would swell until it burst out. She had never felt such an ache before. “Yes,” she whispered. “But he’ll never agree.”

“Then we start wearing him down.”

“How?”

He smiled and kissed her forehead. “You’re not the only one who can be charming. Let me try first.”

“We’d be better off eloping.”

“Never.”

She shook her head. “If I promise to be a good girl, will you keep kissing me?” He took her face in his hands and kissed her lightly again.

“You still always get your way with me, you know.”

“Yes, but you make me work for it,” she said, climbing back onto his lap as he groaned exaggeratedly and pulled her in close.





CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO





Errands with my grandmother meant a trip to the “beauty parlor.” She offered to pay for me to get my hair done as well, because apparently the messy bun that I pulled my hair into after the shower didn’t meet her standards. I considered it, briefly, but when we walked into a pink-fronted salon literally called “the Beauty Parlor,” which looked straight out of the sixties, complete with stylists who had spent the last sixty years working there, I decided to pass. Gray hair might be in, but I wasn’t feeling the granny look.

Instead, I got an iced coffee from the shop a few doors down and sat outside. Instinctively, I pulled out my phone and began scrolling through Instagram. A picture of my cousin’s engagement ring got a double tap, liking it despite the pang of jealousy I felt. The beginning of a relationship is so much more social media–worthy than the end.

Then I did what I told myself weekly I wouldn’t do anymore, and I typed Brad’s handle into the search bar. I had unfollowed him, of course, because I didn’t want pictures of Taylor popping up on my feed. But a morbid sense of curiosity still sent me there. He hadn’t posted anything since the last time I looked, so I went to her feed instead, where the most recent picture was of their feet on a beach, angled together to make a heart.

I swiped up to close the app and let my phone fall in my lap before leaning my elbows on my knees and dropping my face into my hands. Why did he get to be happy when I didn’t?

My grandmother’s words, telling me I didn’t need to suffer along with him, echoed in my head. Well, he clearly wasn’t suffering, even with me not signing the settlement agreement, so what was I torturing myself for?

“Enough,” I whispered. Six months was long enough for wallowing. It was time to start rebuilding. And stalking Brad’s Instagram was not going to help me do that.

“Ready to go?” my grandmother asked from behind me. I turned and saw her hair, fluffed up and sprayed heavily enough to withstand a nor’easter.

“What’s next today?”

“I’m going to see a friend. Joe is going to pick you up here in a few minutes.”

“I really don’t need the guided tour.”

“Well, I have plans, and I don’t want you sitting at the cottage all mopey.”

“I’m not mopey!”

She cocked her head. “Darling, I told your mother I’d get you out of the house, but not so you can do the same thing you were doing at home.”

“What do you mean you told her you’d get me out of the house?”

She grinned. “You think I would have told your mother I was coming here if I didn’t want company?”

“I—” I stopped. I had been played. “How did you know I’d offer to come?”

Her expression softened. “You have a good heart. You always have. What else would you do?”

“You would have actually just driven here yourself?”

“Of course. I’ve done it a thousand times.”

“Recently?”

She winked at me.

“All that stuff about not having a license?”

“Oh, that was true. But I don’t need one of those.”

The woman was impossible. “How are you getting to your friend?”

“Driving, of course. It’s just a mile from here.”

I shook my head. “I’ll go with Joe, on one condition—you don’t drive. We’ll drop you off and pick you up.”

Her expression was too bland, which always meant she was up to something. Oh no, I thought. This was her plan all along.

Joe pulled up to the curb in a black SUV. “Don’t bother parking,” Grandma called through his open window. “Jenna volunteered you to drive me to Ruthie Feldman’s house.” I grimaced, but he agreed, and I helped my grandmother into the car.





I climbed into the front seat after walking my grandmother up the steps to Ruthie’s house. She panted slightly, leaning on me. “She ought to put in a ramp,” she huffed. “Even I knew when to give in and get that chair thing.” But Ruthie was thrilled to see her, and the two of them disappeared into the house, arm in arm.