Page 55 of The Grump I Loathe

I stood next to Beatrice for a long time, rain soaking through my shirt, chilling my skin. I didn’t really feel it. Everything inside me felt numb. No, not numb. Like dread was piling up, and if I didn’t find some way to outrun it, I’d be buried.

I wiped water from my face and climbed into Beatrice, slapping my hand against the ignition button before gripping the wheel like it was the only thing holding me to the earth. I didn’t know what to do. If I went home to Cassie, she’d fuss over me while I complained about Dad and Valentina and the crappy situation they were putting Alannah through, but the idea of going home didn’t generate the comfort I was seeking. I could find a club and dance my problems away until I was too exhausted to stand. But I didn’t want that either. Not really.

Max’s words echoed in my head.There’s one person we both know…

Dammit. This was a ridiculous idea.

I brought up the employee contract on my phone, skipping ahead to the company directory, zooming in on an address.

Ridiculous idea.

Stupid idea.

I plugged the address into Google and took off through the rain.

17

CONNOR

“How was the meeting with the publisher?” I asked.

“Good,” Mom said. “They loved the additional chapters I proposed on female activists during Prohibition.”

“That’s great,” I said. We often had post-dinner video calls when Mom was in LA. She’d flown down to stay with X while she did some work with her publisher—they’d picked up her pitch for a non-fiction book on the Prohibition era.

“Grandma, did you see the picture of my flower girl dress Dad sent you?” Grace cut in, leaning closer to the phone screen. “It has pink and purple flowers on the skirt!”

“I did!” Mom said, smiling at her. Ali had finally gotten around to taking Grace shopping, however delayed that day had been. “It’s beautiful.”

“There were two I thought were pretty,” Grace said, “but the other was sorta itchy. So I ditched that idea.”

“What are you doing with your hair?” Mom asked.

Grace hummed. “Not sure. Mom didn’t say anything.”

I tried not to grimace on screen. I wouldn’t put it past Ali to forget to include Grace in whatever hair and makeup arrangements she was making.

Mom might have been thinking the same thing. “Well, I’d be happy to do your hair on the big day. Maybe a cute little updo?”

Grace beamed. “Okay! Better you than Dad.”

“Hey!” I laughed while making a mental note to book Mom a room at the hotel. She wasn’t invited to the wedding, but it was only a few hours of driving to get to the venue, and it was a nice area to visit, whether you were there for a wedding or not. A non-work trip would be relaxing after all this back-and-forth she was doing for X and the publisher. “When are you coming home?” I asked.

“Soon,” Mom said. “I think. Though…I’m not sure for how long.”

“You think? What does that mean?”

“Oh, you know,” Mom said, trailing off with a mysterious smile. “You should be getting to bed, young lady.”

I recognized the subject change and made a note to ask Mom about it later.

Grace sighed. “I know. Or else I won’t grow. Love you, Grandma. Say hi to X for me!”

We said our goodbyes, and Grace stood, making her way to the TV. I snagged her by the back of the shirt. “You heard Grandma. Bed.”

“Aww, Dad! Fine.” She grabbed my hand, trying to tug me off the couch. “Come on,” she complained. “Tuck me in.”

“I can’t.” I grimaced. “These old bones. I can’t move.”