48. 48
Istand on the artificial grass that separates Grandma’s house from Mom’s. My mother doesn’t come back here—not unless she’s summoned. It feels like a safe place, even yards away from my mother’s back entrance.
I hang up with Miles, already feeling more at peace.
He did that. He turned my chaos into peace.
My husband might be an adorable miracle worker, and I might be a chump falling way too fast and way too hard, but I don’t care anymore. I’m just grateful to have talked to him.
In fact, I’m adding an event to my countdown calendar—three days from now I’ll head back to Idaho, back to Miles. I’m almost finished when my phone rings.
My grandmother walks out the back door, not surprised to see me. I ended up on her front step constantly in high school.
“I’ll wait for you inside,” she says. “Take your call.”
I nod to Grandma and hit speaker on my phone. “Ash?”
“Lane, what are the chances we get your husband here for a photo shoot?”
“A photo shoot?” I cinch my brow, confused. “Ah, not great.”
“As far as I can see, he’s getting the sweet end of this deal. You bought him that building and fixed it up, right?”
“Ah.” I cram my eyes closed. I didn’t tell her about the fixing up part. She must have her own sources—or just some investigating skills. It wouldn’t be hard to figure out that Miles couldn’t afford to do it on his own. “So?”
“So? It’s his turn to hold up his end of the bargain. Remember, we’re molding your image, girl. Not only are you switching to folk, but you’re switching from single to married, alone to together, available to taken, undesirable to wanted.”
Ouch.
“We need this to work and quick.”
“Um—I don’t know. I’ll talk to him.” But I don’t want to. There’s nothing I want less than Miles posing and being someone he isn’t.
“Do,” Ash says. “Remember your why, Lane. See you in the studio tomorrow.”
“Your why?” Mom stands on her back porch, facing Grandma’s place.
I jolt with her words, with her very presence—she never comes out here.
“What does that mean, Delaney?”
I shove my phone back into my pocket. “How long have you been there?”
“Just this second,” she says. “And that—”
“That was about work and none of your business.” I head inside of Grandma Judy’s, leaving the toxicity of her company.
“You should listen to her.”
I pause at the door. “You heard one thing. You don’t even know the context of that question. Not to mention, you have always disliked my job. So why do you care?”
“Oh.” She holds up her hands, innocent. “I don’t.”
The imaginary knife she’s jabbed into my gut twists. Yep, thanks, Mom. Love you too.
I leave her, walking into Grandma’s house.
Just before I fall face down onto Grandma’s floral couch, I see the framed watercolor on her wall, the bright moon sitting on a lake, the sky a pinkish-blue. I’d know that work anywhere. Miles.
Tears fill my eyes, and I wail into one of Grandma’s throw pillows.
“Is it time for me to move?”
I peer up from my screaming pillow. “What?”
“Should I move, Delaney? We both know your mother is the reason you haven’t been to see me in a year. So, maybe I need to move out. Move on. I wouldn’t mind not seeing Claire every single day of my life. I don’t have much life left, you know. And I have to look at her on a daily basis.”
I snort. “What about Eryn?”
“Well, your mother is a little less Beelzebub with Eryn.”
I push up to my knees, my shoulders slumped. “Yes, but I’d still feel better knowing she had you, just in case.”
“And that’s exactly why I’m still here. That, and when I offered this home to your parents, it was with the stipulation that I stayed in the guest house until the day I die.” She huffs. “You think it would be sooner than later. I’m sure Vaughn misses me—”
“Gram, you’re seventy-five, in good health, with a great diet and exercise program. I am planning on you outliving me. Don’t even talk about—”
“Fine. Fine. I just hate the fact that while you’ve avoided her, I’ve also missed out.”
“Not on purpose. It’s just, I—” I swallow and blow out a low breath. My heart pounds, but I have to say the words to her. “I quit The Judys and—”
“Was it right for you?”
“It was,” I say, meeting her eyes. I’m sure of it.
“We’ve already talked about this, Delaney. I’m not upset. I have no right to be. Besides, the only thing I want is for you to be happy.”
“But you’re the reason I helped create The Judys.”
“And I expect a new song to be written in honor of me with this new journey.” She grins and scoops her long white hair off her shoulder. I see myself in her at this moment.
And I feel so grateful that I do.