Chapter 36
E mma
I don’t call my grandparents.
I’m normally never late when it comes to our biweekly Skype sessions.
Ugh. Now I can’t not explain. If I just text back to reschedule, she’ll think something is seriously wrong.
Phone in hand, I look around. The bedroom is as gorgeous as the rest of the penthouse, and there’s a nook with a sleek lounge chair where I can Skype.
But I really don’t feel comfortable talking to my grandparents next to the bed where Marcus fucked my brains out.
Repeatedly . It’s bad enough I’ll be sitting in a borrowed robe.
Library it is, then.
I rush over there and plop my butt into one of the chairs by the fireplace. Then I get my phone on the Wi-Fi, send the videocall request, and wait.
“Emma, sweetheart!” Grandma’s rounded face fills the small screen, with Gramps’s ear next to her. “What happened? Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, I just woke up late. I’m so sorry. How are you guys doing?”
“Oh, we’re great. Already prepping for Thursday,” Grandma says, beaming as Gramps moves fully into the camera view. With a start, I realize she’s talking about Thanksgiving—which means I’m flying out to Florida this Wednesday, having bought the plane tickets on a mad sale last year.
“Your grandmother’s already gotten the turkey,” Gramps says as proudly as if it were his achievement. “And she found a new stuffing recipe online.” He peers at me, his nose growing as he leans closer to the camera. “Wait a minute. You’re not at home.”
“Um, no.” Crap, I’m so not ready for this. If I’d remembered that Thanksgiving—complete with endless opportunities for interrogation—is this coming week, I definitely wouldn’t have done the call here. “I’m at a… friend’s place.”
Grandma blinks. “Really? Which friend? Kendall or Janie?” She leans closer to the camera as well. “That fireplace looks nice. And are all of those bookshelves?”
“Yep.” Sighing, I turn my phone around and move it in a slow semicircle, letting them see the whole room—because they would’ve badgered me into doing it anyway. “Lots of books here.”
“Your friend must really like to read,” Gramps says, impressed. “Is that how you met, through your work?”
“So it’s not Kendall or Janie,” Grandma says, stating the obvious.
I turn the phone back to face me. “No, it’s someone else.
” Dammit, why did I let Marcus prod me into this?
Short of outright lying, anything I say will make this thing between us sound way more serious than it is.
Not that I know what level of seriousness we’re at, anyway.
It’s not a one-night stand, as we’d been on a couple of dates prior to hooking up. A weekend fling, maybe? Casual dating?
It’s certainly not the start of a real relationship—not with him dead set on marrying someone like Emmeline.
My grandparents are staring at me expectantly, and I know I need to tell them something . Sighing, I pinch the bridge of my nose. “It’s no one you know—just a guy I met a couple of weeks ago, okay?”
If this were a movie, the soundtrack would’ve come to a screeching halt. As is, the silence is deafening, both of them staring at me slack-jawed.
Finally, my grandfather speaks. “A guy?” He sounds incredulous. “As in, a boyfriend?”
I wince. “We’re not quite there, Gramps, but yes, someone I’m dating.” I hope I don’t have to explain the nuances of modern dating to him, because I’m not sure I understand them myself—especially in light of Marcus’s bizarre willingness to meet my grandparents.
I could’ve sworn casual hookups and family don’t mix.
“Is that a robe you’re wearing?” Grandma asks, peering at my shoulders. “It looks like a robe.”
Crap. I was hoping they wouldn’t notice.
“My clothes are in the laundry,” I explain, then realize I just made it sound like Marcus and I are living together.
“That is, the clothes I was wearing last night—I don’t keep anything else here.
Marcus decided to wash them before I woke up, hence the robe. ”
That’s probably TMI—in general, all of this is TMI—but my grandparents clearly don’t mind. Gramps is grinning, and Grandma looks positively gleeful as she asks, “Marcus? Is that his name?” At my nod, she presses, “How did you two meet?”
“Oh, just through a… you know, a dating app.” Or more precisely, through a mix-up related to a dating app, but that’s too long of a story.
“Really?” Grandma leans in. “We didn’t know you were doing online dating.”
“Yeah, I didn’t mention it because it wasn’t a big deal. Janie talked me into creating a profile a few months back, but I’ve only logged on a couple of times.”
“Which was clearly enough to meet Marcus and end up at his place. In a robe,” Gramps states, his bushy eyebrows twitching with excitement.
I blow out an exasperated breath, wishing for once that my grandparents could be all stodgy and conservative, like most others of their generation.
Instead, at nearly eighty years of age, they’re as open-minded as any millennial, having embraced the changing mores of the times along with the technology of email, social media, texting, and Skype.
I don’t want Gramps to brandish a shotgun or anything, but still, a little bit of Catholic disapproval wouldn’t hurt.
“We’re just getting to know one another, Gramps.
This probably won’t go anywhere,” I say, but I can tell my warning is falling on deaf ears.
My dating life—or lack thereof since college—has been a source of concern for my grandparents, to the point that I was tactfully told during my last Thanksgiving visit that it was perfectly fine to embrace my needs and inclinations, no matter what they might be.
Translation: they thought I might be gay and in the closet.
“So how old is he?” Grandma asks, launching into her patented interrogation mode. “Where is he from? What does he do? How many siblings does he have, and when can we meet him?”
I open my mouth to start answering, but then I change my mind. “You know what, Grandma?” I say sweetly. “Why don’t you meet Marcus right now? He can tell you everything himself.”
And getting up, I carry the phone to my host’s office.