“Well, she already sold it,” my grandfather says. “And I gave her some more money. It was foolish of me to think that I could keep her in my life. That I could have her in my life.”
“It wasn’t just foolish, Granddad,” I say. “It was hurtful. She loved you. She was waiting around for you.”
“I know,” he says quietly. “I did that because she got me in a way that no one else ever had.”
“I don’t understand why you decided to get a ghostwriter to write a love story for the two of you,” I say. “A love story that wasn’t real. What was the point?”
“I think we wanted to erase the parts of our past that we weren’t proud of,” my grandmother says. “I think we wanted to rewrite history to make it something that it wasn’t.”
“I suppose that’s what makes our story unique, though,” my grandfather adds. “I suppose that in all the ugliness, there was a beautiful consequence. Love.”
“I don’t think Amethyst looks at it that way,” I say.
“She’ll be okay,” my grandfather replies. “She’s going to travel.”
“I hope not with Patrick. He’s a user.” I can hear the anger in my voice and clench my fists.
“She knows. And Patrick will not be seeing many women for a long time.” He looks pleased with himself.
“What do you mean?”
“It turns out, Amethyst was not the first lady he convinced to be involved in theft. He’s wanted in several places. The police have found him.” I stare at him in shock.
“And I believe he will likely be in jail for a long time once he is prosecuted.” He grins. “The DA owes me a few favors, so I think that will be soon as well.”
“Shit, grandad. How does Amethyst feel about this? This is so sudden.” I don’t know what to think and feel. I’m glad Patrick has been arrested, but I’ve never heard of something moving so quickly.
“Turns out we have a good private investigator.” My grandad looks down at his desk. “Plus, I knew Amethyst was seeing someone. I’ve been having him followed for the last couple of weeks.”
“Oh, wow, but wait, you said she’s going traveling? Who is she traveling with?”
“She’s actually going to be traveling with Captain Joe,” my grandmother says, her tone slightly peeved. “That’s another member gone from the writing group.”
“What? Captain Joe?” My jaw drops to the ground. I had no idea they were even friends.
“Turns out, he’s had a thing for her for years.” She laughs like she can barely believe it. “That was the only reason he was even in the book club. Which I should have known. His work wasn’t that great.”
“Oh, wow. I didn’t see that coming.” I rub my chin. “And she’s into him?
“Neither did I,” she says. “I thought he just loved the free meals and my stories. As to Amethyst, I suppose she just wants to be loved, like all of us.”
“We are paying for both of them to travel the world.” My grandfather adds. “They will see if they want to do that together, though I suppose Amethyst deserves love.”
“We all deserve true love.” Disappointment seeps from every fiber of my being. I hate the fact that my heart feels like it has been yanked out of my body. I hate the fact that breathing feels like a chore. I just want to go back to the time when Gina and I had what I thought was a real and emotional connection. I want to go back to the days when our banter was fun. Her betrayal was the hardest thing I’d ever had to deal with.
You aren’t upset with us, are you, Hunter?” she asks gently, touching my knee. “You’ve had a lot going on these last couple of years, and I would hate to think that I had any part of you possibly regressing.”
“Grandma, Granddad… I love you. You’re my grandparents. This is your story. This is your life. I’m sorry it hurt Amethyst, but that’s between you. I’m not going to carry that burden. I’m glad to know the truth, though. And I’m glad I understand the dynamics a bit better.”
“And how are you feeling?” my grandfather asks carefully. “About Gina… and the paper?”
“I’m fine. I hope you don’t mind that I fired her. Obviously, I couldn’t allow her to stay here knowing she was undercover.”
“I liked her,” he says. “She was getting through the bullshit.”
“She knew something wasn’t right in your story.”
“I guess that means she’s a good reporter,” my grandmother says before catching herself. “Well, not that we wanted a good reporter in the house. You should speak to her, though. Maybe?—”
