No controlling that.
Whatever happens between Brady and me, someone’s going to wind up massively disappointed. That’s what I dread.
“Thanks, Gran. Always fun to entertain you,” I say dubiously as I follow her to the door.
She laughs and lifts her face to mine, planting a sloppy kiss on my cheek.
“Look after yourself, Lena girl! Be happy. And if that man gives you a reason to smile, you stuff the attitude.”
I glance over my shoulder to see Brady helping himself to another slice of banana bread. It’s oddly domestic—the sight of him in this kitchen on a lazy morning, making himself at home.
Weirdly, nicely, deeply unsettling.
I can’t get too used to this. But part of me already wants to.
“You know I wouldn’t dare waste your wisdom.” My smile is slightly forced.
Gran just doesn’t know it’s for my own benefit.
XVI
For The Birds
(Brady)
“Your grandmother likes me. That has to count for something.” I smile at Lena as she ignores me, the wind pushing her loose brown hair from her face.
We’re on our way to Bainbridge Island on the big green-and-white ferry, and the sea breeze stings my cheeks.
“Technically, she’s not my grandmother.”
“Do technicalities matter, Sass?”
She shoots me a disgruntled look, and I laugh, taking her hand.
“What’s your mother up to these days, anyway? Does she visit?”
Her face falls.
“Retired. Mostly. I visit her a few times a year. Port Townsend. It’s a nice little getaway, even if it’s kind of far. After everything that happened, she’s not too fond of revisiting Seattle.”
She’s afraid to show her face here.
That’s what she’s not saying, and I hate that I can read between the lines.
I ease up, bringing the conversation back to Gran. Thankfully, the old woman’s antics spun enough old stories to keep Lena smiling while she tells them.
It’s a light crowd on the ship today, and no one else can hear our conversation, but the appearance is still public. Deliberately staged so people will see us out and about together, knowing a few of those bystanders will pull out their phones and snap not-so-discreet pics.
I want it to look natural.
Experience says Lena doesn’t perform well if she knows there’s an audience, but we also need this to be convincing.
That’s becoming less of a problem by the day.
Hell, after this morning, it’s no problem at all.
“Stop being a prick, and enjoy the breeze.” She twists her hand in mine so our fingers twine.
