“Hey, sugar. Don’t you worry about me,” Gram says, the order delivered with enough gumption to put my worried mind at ease. “I was just calling to see when you’d be home for a visit. Last night at bingo, Maggie Stewart—you remember her, she used to work at the old market—was going on and on about how her grandkids visit her every single month, unlike some people’s.”
I remember Maggie Stewart all right. I also remember she and Gram have been frenemies since long before the world had a word to describe friends/rivals.
“Don’t you worry. I got the last laugh,” Gram says in a smug tone. “I bought six cards for the jackpot round and won two hundred dollars. You should’ve seen the look on Maggie’s face when I called bingo. She was just waitin’ on B5 to close out her card.”
A smile tugs at my lips. “Congratulations.”
Bingo is no joke in Brady, and winning the jackpot is about as exciting as things get outside football season.
“So, when you comin’ home again?” she demands, clearly unwilling to let Maggie show her up on any front.
I sigh. “Gram, I was just home at Christmas.”
It’s only been five weeks since my last visit, give or take, and I’m not ready to make another trip home anytime soon. I love my family, and of course I miss them, but Brady is stifling. It’s like every time I set foot in the town proper, I’m dragged right back to my childhood.
To a time when no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t fit in.
I’d grown up bearing the weight of judgmental stares and superior attitudes because I didn’t fit the mold of what the collective small town “they” considered normal. Not with my quirky behavior and bold fashion choices. Like being interesting was a bad thing. Like it was my fault they didn’t have good taste.
Or open minds.
Heart of Texas, my ass.
It took me years to realize I’d never fit in—or fit the mold of what my family considers a proper lady—a fact that’s no less true today than it was the day I packed my bags for Austin.
Gram remains silent, making it clear my holiday visit isn’t enough to stave off Maggie’s shaming.
“I’m really busy with work and school,” I remind her, hoping that will be sufficient to keep Maggie’s taunts at bay for a few months. “I’m graduating in May and my final project is kicking my butt.”
That’s true enough.
Gram harrumphs, but eventually says, “None of Maggie’s kids has a master’s degree. I’ll have to mention it the next time I see her.”
I roll my eyes and pray that when Sofia and I reach her age, we’re too busy sipping cocktails to worry about the Maggie Stewarts of the world.
“That reminds me,” Gram says, switching gears. “Did you get the save the date for your cousin’s wedding?”
What’s left of my good mood shrivels up and dies. “Yes, but I really haven’t had time to think about Hannah’s wedding.”
It’s months away, and I’m focused on what’s right in front of me.
Plus, I’m not exactly looking forward to it. Weddings are just another opportunity for my friends and family to gather and question all my life choices. I can hear it already.
Scarlett, where’s your date?
If you don’t find a man soon, all the good ones will be taken.
When are you going to graduate and join the real world?
Your cousin Lissa is dating an attorney. Why can’t you find a nice young man like that?
Get in there and catch that bouquet or you’ll end up an old maid!
“Well, you better start thinking about it,” Gram says sagely. “If you show up without a date, you’ll never hear the end of it.”
Don’t I know it. I sigh and rest my chin on my hand, imagining the looks on my cousins’ faces—hell, the entire population of Brady—if I showed up with a sexy billionaire on my arm. They’d turn green with envy. And I’d love every second of it.
Too bad Nick and I aren’t actually dating.
