It’s a mansion, a massive multi-story contemporary that sits oceanfront atop the whitest sand I’ve ever seen. “At last things are looking up,” I whisper to Elijah.
Paul is not a shriveled old man still mourning his lost wife and desperately in need of a woman’s touch...at least, not thesort of touch Mrs. Cabot anticipated he’d need when she was buying him hand towels at Walmart. He might want the other sort, though.
“Well, aren’t you two the hottest things I’ve seen in a couple decades?” he asks, wrapping his arm around both their waists and kissing them each on the cheek. “Makes me want to move somewhere that allows bigamy.”
Mrs. Cabot giggles as if she’s fourteen. “You’re sobad, Paul.”
“I’m even worse than you remember, Carol,” he says with a roguish waggle of the brows and a bit of a growl, which I might have found sexy if he were a few years younger.
Mrs. Cabot seems to find it sexy right now. There was a startling shift in her the second he came into view, her eyes going wide, her head cocking, a little smile on her mouth that I will definitely refer to ascoquettishorseductivelater when I discuss it with Elijah.
Elijah is so horrified that he stands frozen for a moment before springing into action, extending a hand, probably so that Paul will have to release at least one of the women. “I’m Elijah, Carol’s grandson, and this is my sister’s best friend, Easton.”
Paul shakes Elijah’s hand, then mine, but he has zero interest in either of us.
“You’ve done very well for yourself, Paul,” Betty coos. “Give us the tour!”
“I’ll show you to your rooms,” he says to them, “but you’re welcome to stay in mine.”
They both giggle and Mrs. Cabot swats his arm. “Oh,Paul.”
Paul then turns his attention to us.
“Thanks for driving them over,” Paul tells Elijah. “I’m going to put you two up in my property right around the corner. Spectacular views. You don’t want to waste your time with us old folks.”
Elijah stiffens and looks to me, something frantic in his gaze. “I, um, Easton? From a medical perspective, don’t you think we should probably stay with them?”
“I mean...we’re just going to be around the corner,” I reply.
“Medical perspective?” Mrs. Cabot asks. “Since when do I need a nursemaid? And she’s not even a real doctor.”
Paul pulls a slip of paper out of his pocket. “Address and lockbox code are right there.”
“Easton?” Elijah prods.
I have no idea what he expects me to say. The truth is she’s better off with EMS than she is with me, and she also shows no sign of ailing health.
“I’ll help you carry in their bags,” I reply.
If looks could kill, I would not be alive for Kelsey’s wedding.
We get their suitcases inside but are only allowed as far as the first-floor elevator. “I’ll, uh, check on you later, Grandma,” Elijah says, but Mrs. Cabot isn’t even looking at him. She flutters her hand in our direction, though I’m sure she was only waving at Elijah, and the doors shut.
“You were extremely helpful there,” Elijah says as we climb into the car.
I click my seat belt in cheerfully. “Forgive me if I didn’t want to help you cockblock three octogenarians, Elijah.”
“I assumed you’d cockblock my grandmother purely out of spite.”
That’s entirely fair. I would. “I decided it would be more fun to watch you fall apart all night. I do hope they’re using protection.”
He plugs the new address into the nav system. “Just stop.”
“STDs are running rampant through that age group, bro. It’s no joke.”
“Easton, I swear to fucking God...” He shakes his head. But he wants to laugh.
I yawn. My jaw doesn’t pop. I don’t really need a nap, either.
