Chapter 13
Vanna: Can you stop by when you’re done with your meeting?
She’d stared at that message for a long-ass four minutes before finally hitting the “Send” button. It was a little after ten in the evening, and she’d been sitting on her couch, pretending to watch the Murder, She Wrote marathon for the last two hours.
After work, she’d done exactly what she’d told Aden she would do: she went to visit Granny and suggested they go out for dinner. The comment had been impromptu when she’d been on the phone with him, just something to make it seem like she wasn’t going to be sitting at home, waiting for him to decide to show up or not. And yes, that was petty. She prided herself on not being about games in any relationship—never again. So when she wanted to see a man, she would see him, and when she didn’t, she would make that clear. She wanted that same courtesy from whatever man she was dating. But there’d been something in Aden’s tone, something in the way he looked at her each time they were together, that had her feeling a little edgy where they were concerned. It was like she was in uncharted territory with him even though she’d clearly dated before. Hell, she’d been married before, so this, what they were doing, shouldn’t be at all complicated.
And yet, it was.
Or at least, it felt like he was making it complicated. Or was she the one doing that?
“You seem distracted,” Granny said when they were seated across from each other at Outback Steakhouse.
Granny loved a Bloomin’ Onion and the Bloomin’ Fried Chicken. Vanna had chicken last night and for lunch once she and Sanni had returned from their walk, so she’d ordered salmon instead.
Vanna’s response had been to shrug because, just like she hadn’t wanted to unload all that had happened this morning on Aden earlier, she didn’t want to put that on her grandmother’s shoulders either. “I’m okay,” she said.
“You’re not,” was Granny’s absent-minded reply as she pulled another piece of the onion off and put it into her mouth. “You shouldn’t keep it all bottled up. I’ve been telling you that since you were a little girl.”
She had, and Vanna had been ignoring the comment since then. “I’m not keeping anything bottled up. But I’m also not going to dwell on every time I have a hard day. It’s counterproductive.”
Granny finished chewing and reached for another piece. Her bracelets jangled and clunked as they hit the table. She wore wood-and-bronze earrings to match the jewelry at her wrists and her necklace today. “It’s a shame how easily you sit at this table and lie to me,” Granny told her. “But like I said, I’m used to it. You’ve been doing it since you were a child.”
“Maybe I get it from my mama.” The words slipped out before she could stop them, and her eyes widened as Granny stilled before she could get the food into her mouth. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean ...”
Granny shook her head so hard and fast, the long earrings slapped against the side of her face. “Don’t apologize for saying what you mean. Diane is a liar. Has been for most of her life. Neither of us can change that fact.”
Unsure of what to say or do next, Vanna opted to scoop a pile of rice onto her fork and put it into her mouth to chew.
“But what my only child never seemed to have a problem doing was saying whatever she wanted,” Granny said after she finally put that next piece of onion into her mouth, chewed, and swallowed. “No, that girl was a chatterbox from day one. Think she started talking before she started walking. She was lazy like that.” Granny gave a wry chuckle. “Always wanted to be on my hip, like I hadn’t carried her for almost forty-two weeks before those doctors finally decided to get her stubborn behind out of me.”
Whenever Granny talked about her daughter, there was a lightness to her tone. Or at least, it usually started out that way. Vanna hated that she’d even brought this topic up. One thing she knew for certain, though: once Granny began talking about her child, she didn’t stop until she was ready. So Vanna just continued to eat.
“Yes, she was a pretty little thing too. Eight pounds and four and a half ounces of screaming baby.” With a shake of her head, Granny picked up her knife and fork and cut into her chicken. “Always had something to say. Thought she knew everything, even when she wasn’t taller than my kneecaps. But you know I didn’t let her get away with it—no, indeed. I tried to teach her how to respect me and others. How to respect herself.”
Silence fell over the table as they both chewed.
“But somewhere along the way, I guess she forgot everything I taught her.” Those words sounded so forlorn that Vanna wanted to reach out and touch her grandmother’s hand. She wanted to apologize for bringing up what she knew was a painful topic for both of them. But she didn’t. That’s not how they dealt with the conversation about her mother.
“You, on the other hand,” Granny said, and pointed her fork at Vanna, “know better, so I expect you to do better.”
That Maya Angelou quote was printed on one of the affirmation cards in Vanna’s box, so she knew it well.
“You keep everything you’re feeling buried inside. You think if you pack it all up and never show it to anybody, people will only see what you want them to see,” her grandmother said. “The beautiful, confident woman you’ve worked so hard to become. Well, I see her, Vanna. But I also know you. So whether you tell me now what’s going on or you call one of your girlfriends and chat their heads off with your problems, you need to let this mess out. You’ve got a lot going on; nobody’s gonna judge you for venting every now and then.”
“I vent to them plenty of times,” she said. “And to you. How many times did I call you complaining about Caleb?”
“Not enough,” Granny replied with a huff. “Not a damn ’nough. And you definitely didn’t listen to my warnings about him—but you know folks in love can’t hear a train rushing to mow them down.”
“Definitely not,” Vanna replied. “Seems like I just lay there on the tracks and let it run me right over.”
“But you got up, didn’t you?” Granny asked. “You went out there and you tried, you worked at it until you knew you couldn’t anymore. Then you fell down, but you got up. That’s what really matters, Vannie. People are gonna fall—some of us more times than others. But the true test of character is when you get back up. Don’t let this mess that’s going on now pull you down again. You’ve worked too hard to get yourself back on track.”
And that was the truth. Vanna had thought on those words long after she’d dropped Granny off at the senior building and drove herself home. Then she ran herself a hot bath and sat in the tub until her fingers and toes were wrinkled.
But she’d been too restless to get into bed, so instead she’d come downstairs and curled up on the couch. Excitement had temporarily rippled through her when she saw there was a marathon of one of her favorite shows on tonight. It was mainly her favorite because Granny used to watch it all the time when she was younger. So every time she tuned in to watch Jessica Fletcher solve a murder that really wasn’t any of her business, Vanna was wrapped in nostalgia. She felt comforted and soothed, exactly what she needed tonight.
Only it hadn’t lasted long enough. By the second episode, irritability had reared its ugly head again. She detested this unsettled feeling, hated the way worry poked at the calm she attempted to foster, and simultaneously fought to keep these feelings from blossoming into the chest-constricting anxiety that could bring her to her knees. The loud No! that screeched through her head at the thought and the memory of her primary care doctor suggesting she start taking an anxiety medication a few years ago, and again each time she showed up for her annual physical, snapped her out of it. Or at least, it signaled that she needed to act quickly in order to prove to herself that her doctor—and Granny—were wrong. She didn’t keep things bottled up; at least, she didn’t want to this time.
So she grabbed her phone off the cushion beside her and opened the text thread. It had seemed so natural to ignore the J they both knew that.
And, sure, he’d said he would text her or call when he was finished with the meeting to see if he could stop by, but he hadn’t. Another glance down at the phone told her it was too late to still be in a meeting—unless the meeting was with a woman, which was entirely possible. She hadn’t asked him anything about the meeting, hadn’t even thought to. But now, she wondered. She shouldn’t wonder, because it didn’t matter. They weren’t exclusive. This wasn’t a committed relationship. They were just enjoying each other, exploring that thing that had settled between them like a baby elephant when they were in college. That’s all.
Twenty-five minutes later, when she still hadn’t received a response to either of the texts she’d sent him, she pursed her lips and pushed herself up from the chair. “To hell with this,” she muttered, and reached down to grab the remote so she could turn off the TV. She was going to bed. Sitting here waiting up for some guy to text her back was juvenile, and she hadn’t been that young in a very long time.
The knock sounded at the door before she could hit the power button, and she gasped.
“Girl, get it together,” she said with a sigh. But as she turned to drop the remote back onto the chair, she had a second thought.
A thought that took her right back to this morning, when she’d seen that ugly brown car and the man who’d been staring at her. Now her heart thumped a little wilder, her mind quickly grabbed hold of the fear and was prepared to run with it, when her phone dinged with a notification. She put down the remote and reached for her phone.
Aden: Hey. I’m outside. Are you in bed?
The sigh of relief that soared through her at seeing those words was dual parts annoying and comforting. And instead of replying, she put the phone down again and went to answer the door.
“Hey,” she said. “I wasn’t in bed. Just watching TV.”
He looked at her for what seemed like a long moment before he stepped closer and touched a hand to her cheek. “Hey,” he said, his deep voice cocooning her in an unexpected warmth.
They stood there for a few moments, right in her doorway, just staring at each other. Her in the shorts and tank top she planned to sleep in, and him in his slacks and dress shirt, unbuttoned at the neck.
She broke the trance first because it was too intense, sending too many emotions soaring through her and causing a flurry of confusion as it mingled with the other things she’d been feeling tonight. “Come in,” she said as she took a step back.
He did, and she closed and locked the door. She knew he was staying. It had become an unspoken thing between them that she would question later. Tonight, she was going to allow herself to lean, just a little, on someone else.
“So, I have no idea who it was,” she said a few minutes later after they’d settled on the sectional in the living room. “And it freaked me out.”
Aden hadn’t spoken a word since she told him she had something she needed to get off her chest. If he’d been worried about what that might be, she couldn’t tell because he remained silent the entire time she relayed her story from this morning. Now, however, as she chanced a look at him, it was to see that his brow was furrowed, his lips drawn into a tight line. He sat leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, his hands balled into fists.
“Did you see the car again?” he asked. “I mean, any other time today when you were out. When you came home?”
She shook her head. “No. And Sanni and I went walking right after I talked to you at lunchtime. I haven’t seen it, but I can’t get it out of my mind.”
She fell back against the cushions. “I mean, it’s strange, right? That I got so worked up about it? This isn’t some TV show where viewers have to figure out who the bad guys are before the innocent person gets too caught up in the trouble. This is my life, Aden. And I feel like it’s being turned upside down by criminal charges, dead husbands—and now, what? A stalker?”
He turned slightly so that he could reach for both her hands and hold them in his. “Take a breath,” he said, and when she looked at him, he hiked his brows up to reiterate the command.
She sighed.
“A deep breath, Savannah,” he said.
He held her gaze, and she was reluctant to look away or find another rebuttal to his words. She sucked in a breath slowly, then released it.
Aden was the one shaking his head this time. “Do it again,” he said. “Breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth. Slow and steady.”
She frowned. “I’m not having contractions, Aden.”
He smirked. “Just do it.”
She did, and when he said “Again,” she obliged, until on the third deep breath, the heaviness that had built in her chest started to subside.
“Now, I want you to listen to me,” he said, still holding her hands. “We’re going to call Jovani first thing in the morning. I would call him tonight, but I don’t want Megan cussing me out for ringing her phone at this time of night again. I already owe her a couple hours of babysitting for last week’s call.”
“You? Babysitting?” she asked with a frown.
“Fix your face,” he said. “I know how to watch a baby. My older sister has a nine-year-old and a set of twins. I’ve watched all three of them before.”
She shrugged. “I’m impressed.” Actually, she was intrigued. She would’ve liked to have seen Aden in action with children. He’d always struck her as the macho I-can’t-boil-an-egg type. Learning about his personal input into some of the holistic supplements he planned to feature on his website and at the gym had been a nice surprise.
“Don’t change the subject,” he said. “This is serious, Savannah. You’re not wrong for being afraid. So we’re going to let Jovani know what’s going on. He has people on the streets; he can get some eyes on you. And if he can’t, then I will.”
“He told me about his eyes and ears on the street.” She sighed. “But I don’t want to be watched. Not by anyone.”
“The ugly brown car, as you put it, took that option away from you,” he told her. “We can’t rule out that it was the cops either. Or someone working with them to try and get more evidence against you.”
“What evidence? There is none because I didn’t do anything!” She hadn’t wanted to raise her voice, had wanted to just tell him about this incident and move on with their night, but calling her lawyer, possibly having someone watching her from now on, the police, and this whole investigation ... it was all working her nerves.
“Look, I just want to be able to get some rest without thinking about this,” she said, purposely leaving out the fact that she’d seemed to sleep a lot better the last few nights he’d been in her bed.
Of course, that could’ve also been because of what they’d done in that bed before falling asleep. Sex with Aden was by far the best she’d had in a very long time. She enjoyed it immensely, just as she enjoyed being wrapped in his arms as she fell into a deep sleep. If she could get just that portion of their relationship tonight, that would certainly be enough.
“Okay,” he said with a nod. “Then that’s what you’ll get. Do you want a glass of wine, some herbal tea?”
A light smile touched her lips. “I see how you slipped that healthy drink in there.”
He brought both her hands to his lips for a quick kiss on the back of each. “Of course I did. Now, which one do you want?”
“Honestly,” she said, trying hard as hell to resist the warm tingles that eased down her spine at that simple romantic gesture, “I think the tea would be great.”
“Good,” he said with a wink. “I’ll take care of it. You go on upstairs and get into bed.”
“You’re bossy, you know that?” she said as he stood and used his grip on her hands to pull her up with him.
“No, I’m not,” he countered.
“Yeah, you are,” she said. “You’ve been giving me orders since you came in here. Since you waltzed back into my life, actually.”
Releasing her hands, he stared down at her. “I like to call it ‘taking care of you,’” he said. “Do you know how long I waited for the opportunity to treat you like you deserve to be treated?”
Oh. Damn. This was not the direction she saw this going. She should’ve just gone on upstairs and waited for her tea like a good little girl.
“All those times I watched you with Caleb, saw him leaving you at the table while he ran around the room, talking to everybody but you. When we were out and he was careful to keep you close to him, but he barely paid you any attention.” He shook his head.
And Vanna felt like turning and walking away. This was a reminder of how early on Caleb had begun to show his ass—and how she’d learned to ignore it.
“I’m just doing what I’ve always wanted to do,” he said, and she effectively felt like crap.
This man was too good to be true. Had he really held on to his crush for her all these years? Had he watched her be with Caleb and felt some kind of way about it? Surely that couldn’t be true, since he had a girlfriend much of the time she’d known him in school. And she hadn’t even thought of him in that way. Well, not as much as he apparently thought of her. Yes, she stole looks at him, plenty of them. And yeah, she daydreamed a time or two about what it might’ve been like if they’d been the ones navigating through a relationship, but all that was futile, and she’d known that, so she hadn’t given it nearly as much attention as it seemed he had.
He scrubbed his hands down his face and gave a dry laugh. “Ah, man, I did not mean to say all of that.”
She cleared her throat, almost wishing she hadn’t heard all of that. “It’s okay. I mean, if that’s how you feel.”
Letting his arms fall to his sides, he said, “It is how I feel, Savannah. But we don’t need to go into that right now. Can you just go upstairs while I fix your tea? I want you to get that rest you need.”
All the right words; that’s what Aden always seemed to say. All the right words, and he did all the right things—now that his bossiness had been put into perspective. But what did any of it mean? She was still asking herself that question a little while later when he delivered her cup of tea.
“I can leave now that you’re all set,” he said as he stood on her side of the bed. “If that’s what you want. I don’t want you to feel like I’m crowding you or moving too fast. I realize all this can be coming off that way, and it’s really not my intention.”
“I don’t want you to leave,” she said, and stared down at her hands, now resting on top of the sheets that covered her legs. “I want—”
Her next words died as a loud crash echoed through the air and everything around them shook. Tea spilled over the rim of the mug, splashing onto the nightstand where he’d set it. The lamp wobbled, and Aden moved closer to the bed, ready to shield her from whatever. Seconds later a horn blared, and they both stared at each other quizzically.
Frowning down at her, he yelled, “Stay here and call 911!”
But the second he moved away from the bed, Vanna tossed those sheets back and jumped off the bed.
“Savannah!” he yelled when she was right behind him.
“Don’t ‘Savannah’ me,” she countered. “This is my house, dammit! I’m going to see what’s happened.”
Not bothering to argue with her because he probably figured it was pointless, Aden turned and headed down the stairs. She was right behind him again, until they both came to an abrupt stop at the sight of shattered glass throughout her living room, splintered drywall, her love seat turned over, and the front bumper of a car.
“Stay back,” he said, putting out an arm to keep her in that spot in case she planned to not listen to him again.
Which she definitely did, until he followed up with, “There’s glass everywhere, and you didn’t put on any shoes.”
She looked down at her pink toenails smiling up at her and huffed. “How the hell did a car ...” Her words trailed off again as memories of that car from this morning popped up in her mind. “Oh. No.” She was just about to turn back and run upstairs to grab her phone to call the police when she heard a sound.
Barking.
Aden had already started toward the door. She could hear him open it, and seconds later the barking was louder and the clickety-clack of nails on her hardwood floors filled the air.
“Frito?” she asked as the dog came up the steps and all but skidded into her. Then he was running circles around her, barking and jumping up so that his front paws were on her bare legs. “What’s wrong? How did you get here?”
“Them bitches put me out!” Granny yelled.
She was coming up the steps with Aden close behind. “They had the nerve to tell me I had to go,” Granny continued. “After they take almost half my check to stay in that filthy apartment the size of a damn closet. Get off of me! I told you I was okay! Get outta my personal space before I let your ass have it too.”
With that, she reached into her bag and pulled out her gun, whirling around until she could point it at Aden.
“Whoa!” he yelled, immediately putting his hands up.
“Granny! Wait! What are you doing?” Vanna yelled and—to hell with the glass on the floor—tiptoed over to where her grandmother now stood.
Frito was still barking, which, on top of all that had happened today, was really starting to work Vanna’s nerves.
“What? I told him to get away from me,” Granny said, then glanced over at Vanna. “Just like I told that stank hoe Sylvia to get her ass outta Sam’s bed. And you know what she told me?”
“Granny,” Vanna said, reaching out to place a hand on Granny’s outstretched arm in the hope of lowering the gun.
But Granny didn’t budge; she just kept right on talking to Vanna.
“She told me if I was doing it right, he wouldn’t have had to come and get some from her.” Granny was shouting now. Her hair was wild, the gold caftan she wore giving her an ethereal glow as she ranted. “Now, you know I knows how to get down,” she said, and demonstrated by dropping it like it was hot right there in the destroyed living room while still holding a gun.
“Give me that,” Vanna said finally, and reached out to grab her grandmother’s wrist. The gun wasn’t loaded, which was the only reason she never really pitched a fit at Granny carrying it all around the city with her. One of her worst nightmares had been having to go and bail her grandmother out of jail for catching a handgun charge.
Granny had no permit, and as far as Vanna knew, she’d never been to a gun shop to buy any bullets. About twelve years ago, the man Granny had been messing with at the time had owned several guns, and when Granny put him out of her house, she’d stolen one of them. That, and his entire collection of original Motown albums.
“Just give it here,” Vanna said, and grabbed the gun out of Granny’s hand. “Did you have something else to drink?”
Granny had ordered a Long Island iced tea when they’d been at Outback, and Vanna hadn’t minded because she knew she was driving her right back to the senior building. Now, however, she was second-guessing that decision.
“Maybe we should go to the ER,” Aden said, and pointed to his forehead.
Granny was still in her squatting position—probably a lot harder for her to bring it back up than it had been to drop it down. She was picking up Frito, so Vanna tossed a questioning glance at Aden. He kept pointing to his head and then pointed down at Granny. So when Granny stood, clutching her dog to her chest, Vanna gasped. “You’re bleeding.”
Instead of acting shocked or concerned for her own safety—which, considering the bumper of her car was now peeking through Vanna’s front windows—Granny lifted a hand to where the blood was on her forehead. She didn’t touch the wound, though, oh no—her grandmother fluffed her hair.
“Sylvia thought swinging that cane was gonna stop me, but when I got hold of her ass, it was on,” Granny said with a bleak grin.
Vanna couldn’t do anything but sigh. It was that or cry, and she didn’t want to do that—not in front of Aden, who was probably thinking he should’ve just ignored her text message and taken himself back to the normalcy of his own home.