Chapter 21
Grey
Who’s a creeper who heard the neighbor’s front door shut and is now peering out between the blinds of his living room to watch Sabrina stride across the parking area with longer steps than should be possible given her height, her dog trotting happily beside her, as they head for her car?
Me.
That’s who.
I’m the creeper.
Worse?
Watching her is distracting me from the one phone call from a family member that I was willing to return when I finally looked at my voicemails from the past two days.
“Grey?” Mimi says on the other end of the phone.
I make myself step away from the window as Sabrina bends and hugs Jitter before opening the back car door for him. They look so right . And I want to be out there with them.
“Yes,” I say too strongly. “Yes, I think Miami this time of year would be perfect for you.”
“I don’t know,” she says slowly, which is how she does everything these days.
Slowly.
It’s been horrible to watch. Ever since her sister passed away a year ago, she’s gotten slower and quieter, like she’s retreating from life.
She visited me a time or two in California—I actively hate being anywhere near the rest of my family and she’s always loved to travel, so I usually pay for her to come see me instead of going to her—but I was always so focused on chasing the next big data point with my bees at work that I didn’t do much good for her.
“Seems like there might be too many old people there,” she finally says.
“Plenty of young people too though. Almost spring break.”
“Oh, that’s too wild.”
“What about the Outer Banks? The Carolinas? Warm. Younger old people. Older young people. Bet you could get your shuffleboard on.”
She laughs a little, and the tightness in my chest eases.
I worry about Mimi.
She and Zen are the only two family members I have who appreciate me for me, and I do my damned best to return the favor. My father is the only child she had, much to my grandfather’s disappointment. The old bastard made sure everyone knew nothing was enough for him.
One kid? He should’ve had six, and they would’ve all been his property.
Three houses? His acquaintance had four, all with pools and gardens.
Mimi went gray before his friends’ wives and needed to dye her hair.
His lawyer’s kid went to boarding school, so his son and his grandchildren needed to go to a better boarding school.
Those Vanderbilts had that mansion down in North Carolina, so the Cartwrights needed a mansion on their original apple fields in upstate New York, which is eventually what drained the family trust fund.
But that wasn’t my grandfather’s fault.
It was lazy contractors doing shitty work and asking for too much pay.
Mimi did her best, but my old man turned out just like his old man.
I used to ask her regularly, when I was younger, why she married him.
Because life isn’t always what you hoped it would be was the only response she’d ever give me. But you, young man, have a pure heart, quick brains, and a good soul. Don’t settle for anything less than what you deserve .
I realized after Felicia that she didn’t say I had good judgment when it comes to women .
“I’ll figure out where to go,” Mimi says. “Enough about this old lady. Tell me about you.”
I turn the corner from the living room into the kitchen and nearly jump out of my skin.
Zen’s leaning in the doorway to the mudroom, watching me with the kind of suspicion in their eyes that you’d expect of someone who probably saw me spying on the neighbor and decided to hang out quietly to scare the shit out of me instead of calling me on my stalker behavior.
They’re probably hoping—again—that I pull my head out of my ass, give up on this plan to change the café, and ask Sabrina out.
We can find another building to have a kombucha bar , they’ve said more than once.
And I’ve replied every time with why would any smart businessman give up the best real estate in town?
“I’m alive and well,” I report to my grandmother.
She makes a noise like she doesn’t believe me.
So does Zen.
“How’s work?” Mimi asks.
Heat creeps up my neck. “Fine.”
“Zen told me you haven’t even started thinking about building another lab or looking for loopholes to get you back to working with bees.”
“That’s why it’s fine.”
She laughs for real this time. “And what, exactly, are you up to with all of this time suddenly on your hands?”
Guilt claws on top of the heat.
I don’t like lying to Mimi, but I’m failing spectacularly at vengeance against an old bully since I’m done being shit on by the people who are supposed to love me or at least not hate me isn’t something I’ll be telling her.
And as much as we’ve researched and believe in the idea of the kombucha bar, we wouldn’t be on this path, in this place, without the initial vengeance part.
“I’m going to a different beach,” I report.
I was technically on a different beach about two weeks ago.
Zen glares harder at me.
“You’re at the beach now?” There’s a tinge of excitement in her voice that I haven’t heard in ages, and it makes me feel even more like slime. “Which beach? I’d consider a beach even if the people were too old or young if you were there.”
“I’m not there yet.”
If Zen’s glare gets any hotter, they’ll melt the windows.
I clear my throat. “Just finishing up a few things, and then I’ll be on my way.”
“Which beach?” Mimi repeats.
“Haven’t decided yet.”
“When will you decide?”
“Soon.”
It’s about forty-ish degrees outside.
Ever since I landed myself in that ambulance right after Vince told me he’d made us a lot of money by selling my research, my fingers and toes have gone numb at any temperature under sixty degrees.
But right now, I’m sweating.
I’m sweating, and I can’t shed layers fast enough.
The only other time I’ve been this warm in a cold place was when Sabrina was straddling me at the gazebo the other night.
“Well, you let me know when you decide,” Mimi says. “And then you let me know if you have room for an old lady to tag along.”
“You know I always do.”
“Is Zen with you?”
“Would they be anywhere else?”
“Good. I like knowing you have each other.”
“Want to say hi?”
“Oh, no, I spoke with them earlier today. But do give them another hug from me.”
I make direct eye contact with my nibling.
They are displeased.
They are very displeased.
Jaw working. Mulish glare. Hands curling into fists and then releasing.
They’ve added two rings to their right hand since we got here. One turquoise, one a fidget ring.
There’s little doubt who’s to blame for the necessity of a fidget ring.
That would be me.
And this unhappy Zen?
This unhappy Zen will not be satisfied by me asking a woman out on a date.
Is this because I’m lying to Mimi?
Or did I do something else?
“Always happy to pass on hugs,” I report to Mimi.
“And that’s why you’re my favorite grandson.”
“How’s your new chef working out?” Distract. Distract. Distract.
“I fired him.”
“ Mimi .”
“He kept cutting my steak like I’m an invalid.”
“Did you ask him to stop?”
“Repeatedly with telekinesis. When he didn’t pick up on the vibes I was throwing down, I changed the locks.”
My brows shoot up.
If Mimi’s back on sarcasm, she must be feeling at least a little better. “Good for you for knowing what you want in a personal chef.”
“And how are you eating?” Mimi asks.
“Very well.” That, at least, is the full truth. The neighbors and various townspeople have made sure my fridge is stocked. I’m even putting some of the weight back on that I dropped right after Vince’s bombshell. Feeling like exercising again too.
“Good,” Mimi says. “You keep taking good care of yourself, and if you don’t mind an old lady tagging along, let me know when you head to the beach.”
“You’re always welcome, Mimi. Good to hear you excited about traveling again.”
“Now put Zen on. I just remembered I need to ask them something about this band they’re obsessed with.”
“Love you, Mimi.”
“Love you too, my best boy.”
I hold my phone out to Zen.
“Don’t even try to hug me right now,” they mutter darkly.
Fair.
They know I’m lying to Mimi, which is the sin of all sins.
But they’re all sunshine and happiness when they put my phone to their ear. “Hey, Mimi! Don’t tell me you forgot to mention that a hottie was hitting on you at shuffleboard.”
They march to the living room and then upstairs, voice fading but still clear enough for me to hear the full conversation.
And it’s definitely about a band.
Zen’s door shuts. I fully expect they’re either planning on giving me the silent treatment for the rest of the day for lying to Mimi, or they’re planning to chew me out for making them an unwilling accomplice.
The right thing to do is to warm up something from the fridge—there’s leftover chicken noodle soup and it’s calling my name, and our kombucha is basically perfect—and go spend a few hours locked in my own room doing the sixth wooden puzzle I’ve started since we got here.
This one’s a bright phoenix with particularly intricate puzzle pieces.
Instead, I’m heading back to the living room window and peeking outside.
She hasn’t left yet.
Looks like she got a phone call.
Who’s she talking to? What’s it about? Should I go out there right now and apologize?
I need to rip off that bandage. Just do it. Get it over with.
“You know you have zero chance with her if you destroy her café, right?” Zen says from the landing above me.
I jump. “I don’t date.”
“Everyone else at that speed dating meeting thought you left because you don’t people well,” they say. “But you can’t fool me. And you’re in over your head with this Super Villain Man bullshit. No shame in changing course, Uncle Grey. No matter what changing course looks like.”
I know this.
They know I know this.
And they know I won’t strike back for their brutal honesty.
“Has Sabrina found anything yet?” I ask.
“If she had, don’t you think she would’ve told you?”
Fair enough.
Fuck .