CHAPTERSIXTEEN
Luca
“You seem distracted. Why? Tell me everything and don’t leave a detail out because I’ll know.”
My grandma hit me with one of her knitting needles, and I snorted. “Maybe the last guy was right, you are a threat.”
“Can it, Luca Maron Monroe. Is it this girl you brought for aproject?” She eyed the door, her impatient gaze almost cheering me up. She’d hit it spot on. Lorelei was the reason for my unfocused thoughts.
“It’s nothing. We’re here for you.” I forced a smile and hated the way her eyes narrowed. She was a damn hawk for knowledge, hunting and flying around until she found her prey, and right now that was me.
“You have never, since you were fourteen, brought a girl to me. Forgive me for having questions, but I’m a bored old woman stuck in this prison, so I need drama. More than hearing about the latest wave of STDs going around this place. Or that Gwen accused Henry of stealing, when we all know Gwen is forgetful as shit and left her necklace at Peter’s place when they hooked up. This place is a brothel, Luca.” She rolled her eyes and sighed.
I laughed for real this time. “Your dramatics have only increased in age.”
“It’s a cycle of life, dear. At some point, you stop caring. I reached that a decade ago, and I’m going senile. Its rude to point it out.”
I squeezed her arm. “Is everyone treating you well here? You eating regularly and able to do what you need?”
“Donottell me you came down here to fret. I want to see my grandson and live through you. Tell me about the last party. Did you play a drinking game? Did people cheer for you?”
“Why can’t you be normal?” I teased.
“Missed that boat years ago, Luca. Now, who is Lorelei?”
I scratched the back of my neck, wincing at her beady eyes. I knew her. She wouldn’t let this go no matter how hard I avoided it. “She’s the quarterback’s sister. Dean—”
“Romano, yes. I know him. Good arm, good instincts. Have a bet going on with Patricia next door that he’ll kick her precious alum’s ass up north. Put fifty bucks on it.”
“Should you be gambling?”
“Should you be questioning the elderly? Death is on my door, and I do as a please.” She adjusted her gray messy bun and pouted. “You want to deny me joy?”
“Jesus.” I barked out a laugh. “I should be living vicariously through you. You have way more fun than me.”
Her face fell just as a familiar floral scent entered the room. “Hello, hello!” Lorelei said, knocking on the frame. I’d left the door cracked, and she pushed through.
A sudden blast of nerves fluttered in my gut, like pre-game jitters. What if my grandma hated her? Or what if she said something that offended Lorelei? I really wanted these two to get along for some dumb reason I refused to dive into. “Uh, Grandma, this is—”
“Hi, you rascal!” Lorelei walked up to my grandma and held out her hand. “It is an honor to meet you. You have quite the reputation around here, and I am here for it. The bathroom bandit, the party planner, and the dessert diva? You are who I want to be when I grow up.”
“Keep her. I love this girl.” My grandma beamed at her. “I earned those titles the hard way.”
“Has Luca told you anything about my project?”
“No. He refuses to indulge me of anything interesting, instead worrying about me. It’s cute but annoying.”
“Sounds about right.” They snickered like old friends, and something warm as honey formed in my chest.
“So, are you dating him?”
“Ha, no.” Lorelei flashed her eyes at me for a beat before smiling. “I don’t date athletes.”
“Anymore,” I added, giving her a pointed glare. “You have in the past.”
“Correct. I’m sick of someone always putting me last, and with Luca, football is his life. So negative, we are not dating.”
My grandma sighed and looked at me with so much disappointment my toes curled into my boots.
