Chapter 35
Rory
It’s supposed to be an easy week for me.
I don’t have to drive anywhere until Wednesday, so I have an extra day with Morgan.
Not that long ago I would have been spending my extra time with Grandma, and I feel a twinge of guilt in my gut before I remind myself that Grandma and I need a life outside of each other.
We need friends, and even if Morgan is a fake fiancé, something about this feels real.
The night we spent up on the mountain unleashed something insatiable, because I spend Tuesday morning not working and instead we completely scandalize both pets by fucking all over the house until Morgan has to leave to open the bar.
Wednesday I drive to Long Island and the repair I’m supposed to work on goes sideways.
I am out on the line Thursday night, keeping both me and my software guy working late, and the solution evades us until Saturday afternoon, so I’m late getting back to Here and I pull into On the Rocks at its busiest to give Morgan a quick hello and wolf down some tots while sitting out in the back—the only place with free seats because it’s getting too cold.
I’m asleep before Morgan gets home that night, but in the morning, as I try to slip out, he pulls me back into bed, facedown, and crawls on top of me. We break out one of the vibrators and I come around his cock while he spreads my ass cheeks and watches.
My post-orgasm bliss doesn’t last very long though, because I go alone to Grandma’s apartment and she’s in a foul mood.
We have lunch and she complains about everything and gets in a fight with a woman at the table next to us, which ends in her making a rude gesture and me dragging us both out before management can come and deal with her.
The last thing I need is for her to get kicked out of a very expensive community. I bet they don’t refund your deposit if you have to leave for bad behavior.
Not that Grandma has to worry about getting her deposit back. Today is one of the checkbook balancing days, and that always culminates in us reviewing her investments too—is she sweeping enough income into her checking to cover her living expenses? Do we need to move money in or out?
I hesitate. Grandma’s bank balance has been unusually high for the past few months because there’s one outstanding check that’s waiting to be cashed—mine.
“What?” Grandma bites out. We’re sitting side by side at her computer, as usual, with Grandma watching over my shoulder even though she can’t see much because her glasses are on top of her head and her eyesight is gradually getting worse.
Honestly, I’m not sure why she has a computer anymore.
I’ve restricted a lot of it to try to avoid her accidentally clicking on things, but at some point it might just be easier to switch to one of those simple tablets for kids and the elderly.
“Nothing,” I say.
Grandma’s been here for five months now, and this lie that Morgan and I have told is going to have to resolve somehow.
When we cooked up this scheme, I was only thinking about getting Grandma off my back about being single and alone.
But now, I wonder how long we can keep it going.
Could Morgan be the reason we stay in Here? Is that what I want?
“You haven’t cashed the check yet.” Grandma’s words have a finality to it.
She already knows, and her voice holds the early warning signs I remember as a kid, the portender of getting in trouble.
“It could be doing you some good. By now it should have been used to make a deposit on the venue, or a caterer, or even if you elope, at least it could have bought you a nice dress and a photographer. But instead that money sits in my bank account doing nothing because you never intended to marry Morgan at all!”
Grandma gets up and grabs her cane, pacing to the far wall.
“That’s . . . it’s just a lot of money, that’s all.”
She gives me the stink eye at my weak excuse and hobbles toward me.
“Here’s what I think. I think you’ve set this whole thing up so I would feel like I have to stay here.
I’ve seen The Proposal. You fake an engagement and both get something you want.
You get a reason to keep me here in Here”—she scoffs—“what did Morgan get out of it? What was so worth the annoyance of coming here and putting up with me, hmm?”
Before I can open my mouth for a rebuttal, Grandma points a finger at me. “You probably still have your own apartment, don’t you?”
This time, she expects an answer. “Yes. But—”
“This was a lie from the beginning. Of course it was moving fast, you even said so yourself, but I thought I’d give you the benefit of the doubt.
I thought maybe, I could push you to either fall in love or come clean.
So here we are, almost two months later, and don’t you dare lie to me again, Lorelai Evelyn Fox. Are you going to marry Morgan?”
I stare at my grandma, her finger pointing at me accusingly, and my stomach sinks. Would she even believe me if I lied again? And if I did lie, then what? What is my actual plan?
Would this conversation be going differently if Morgan was here? Would he be his usual, charming self, and have defused my grandmother’s mood before it got to this point?
But then, I’m glad he’s not here. Because I’d be putting him on the spot. We’ve only just started sleeping together, and no man wants the grandmother of the woman he’s sleeping with to be staring at him, daring him to say that he’s going to keep the lie up.
“No, I’m not going to marry Morgan.”
We stare at each other for a moment until Grandma’s hand falls back to her side. “Well then,” she says, and I avert my gaze. “That settles that. There’s a place outside of Boston that I’ve been in touch with and I’ll reach out to see how that wait-list is going.”
Grandma’s voice has changed, shifted. I’ve defused the bomb, but not in the right way. I’ve caused irreparable damage, which is further inflicted when Grandma says, “Don’t lie to me like that again, Rory. You have your job and your life outside of mine, but I only have you.”