“I can’t live like this,” my mother wailed.
“You’re both free to leave,” I reminded her.
“You need to make him leave,” my mother began.
“No,” my father interjected. “I’m the one who paid for your entire life. All she did was spend money. You can’t trust her.”
“I gave birth to you,” my mother said, sobbing and grabbing a fistful of my suit and sinking to the floor. “You ruined me! You ruined my life. I would have been a model!”
I felt helpless and also embarrassed that Grace had to witness this—me not being able to deal with my parents.
But she didn’t seem fazed at all.
“Right then,” she said, setting her bag down. “Chris, would you like them to stay the night or leave?”
“Uh…”
“She can’t make us leave,” my father insisted.
Grace leveled her gaze at him while my father blustered.
“Chris, control your woman,” he said finally, face red with frustration.
“I will not,” I snarled at him. “She lives here; she can decide if she wants you here or not. And don’t you dare speak to her that way. Ever.”
My father glared at me, but I didn’t back down.
“Maybe you should throw them out,” Grace remarked.
“Please,” my mother begged. “I have nowhere else to go.”
I looked to Grace, who shrugged.
“You can stay the night,” I said, “but you will have to make other arrangements if you can’t behave.”
“And we’re setting some ground rules. You both have to keep out of the common areas and stay on your side of the penthouse. And I don’t want to catch you on Chris’s side of the penthouse,” Grace warned. “Now off you go,” she said, tone chipper. “Gran, you’re in charge of making sure they behave themselves.”
The old woman saluted. Grace physically turned my parents around and gave them a push toward the hallway to the other side of the penthouse.
“With pleasure. Forward march!”
50
Grace
Chris seemed stunned after his parents were herded out of the living room.
I guided him down the hall to the master suite.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Yeah, just…” He gave me an odd look. “How did you do that?”
“Please,” I said, brushing the remark off with a laugh. “I deal with crazy parents on a weekly basis! They just need a firm hand.”
“I should have kicked them out,” he said, shoulders sagging.
I cuddled his head to my chest.
