‘Don’t “Gran” me. Fuck. Your. Business. All those twerps can follow some other idiot who chats shite just to take their money.
Well damn. ‘Thanks for the support.’
‘Support? I’m notsupportingyou. I’m telling you you’re being an idiot.’
‘I’m not sure that it’s particularly helpful.’ My face flames at her, letting me know exactly what she thinks of my career.
‘Spreading that nonsense makes you an idiot,’ she continues. ‘Oh, I can’t have a real life because of my “business”. Give over.’
‘And what do I do for money?’ I ask because this is always the wall I hit.
Gran waves a hand. ‘Diversify.’
I stare at her. ‘It’s not that easy.’
‘It is that easy. You’re clever. You can do something else. Or get a real job.’
‘A real job. I have a real job. What do you want me to be, a barista?’
‘You’d make a lovely barista. Brooding while you foam milk. Women love a grumpy man with a pretty face. You’ve been the hit of the pensioners club.’
‘I’m not going to make coffee for horny old ladies.’
‘Move back in with me,’ Gran says abruptly.
‘What?’
‘You heard.’
‘Gran, you’ve only had a few years without me. I’ve sponged off you for long enough.’
‘I loved you living here. And you can bring Maggie too. I won’t even make you sleep on the couch when she stays. I’ve got a spare room. You can pay rent and take the bins out. You can stop hiding behind the nonsense.’
‘I’m not hiding.’
She gives me a withering look.
‘Roman, you’ve been hiding since you were a little boy. Since your mum left and your dad…’ Her mouth tightens, and her eyes grow wet. ‘Sincethen. You hide behind that online pish and this stupid idea that you don’t need anybody.’
I swallow hard.
Gran reaches for the cake again, slicing it with ruthless precision. ‘And if you keep on like that, you’ll end up old and lonely, and there won’t even be anyone to bring you cake.’
‘Gran…’
‘Listen to your elders. You know I’m right.’
I hate admitting it, but it’s true. Getting to know Maggie had broken a hole in the wall guarding my heart. Desperately trying to plug it with my fingers isn’t helping.
‘Maggie. Do you think I’ll like her?’
I nod. Gran would love her. They could crochet together while I feed them cake. Their humour would bounce off each other. How could they not like one another?
‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘I think you would.’
‘Then bring her,’ Gran says.
‘Gran…’
