We begin making our way back to the car when Olivia’s hand wraps around my arm.
‘I bet when you planned on dragging me to New York for your wicked plans, you didn’t expect visiting relatives.’
‘My plans were thoroughly non-wicked.’ She shoots me a sceptical glance. ‘Or only partially wicked. But, no, I didn’t exactly expect visitors. But I like her.’ I glance down and catch her quizzical look. ‘It’s easy to see who you take after.’
‘There’s a terrifying thought.’
‘You’d rather take after someone else. Your mother, perhaps?’
‘No. I love my mom, but she and I don’t always see eye to eye.’
‘Another headstrong redhead like yourself?’
‘That’s such a cliché. But no. Mom has dark hair like my grandfather.’
‘And that’s how you got a mixture of the two, I suppose.’ We both come to a halt as I find I’m running my hands through the silky strands of her red-brown hair.
‘Why are you trying to make me feel better?’
‘Do I have to have an ulterior motive?’
‘And what did Gran say you when she took you to one side before she left?’
‘Ah.’ I feel my expression lighten. ‘She gave me a few words of marital advice.’
‘God.’ Her shoulders slump. ‘Do I even want to know?’
‘Your call,’ I reply, my eyes scanning for the arrival of the car.
‘Go on. Tell me.’
I glance back. ‘She said to take you dancing. That you like to dance.’
‘I do not! Well, not especially.’
‘My mistake. She said women like to dance.’
‘Ahugegeneralisation! Way to drag us back under the man.’
‘Funny, that’s sort of what she said; dancing is a vertical expression—’
‘Of a horizontal desire,’ Olivia finishes. ‘Urgh. No one likes to hear that their gran used to have sex. She still goes dancing, you know? I am so going to need brain bleach when we get back to the hotel.’
‘How about a drink instead?’
‘Deal,’ she answers as our car arrives. ‘But we might need to make it more than one, for purely analgesic effects.’
‘Of course.’ I open the passenger door, and Olivia slides in.
‘Were there any other words of wisdom she had to offer?
‘No, nothing.’ She shrugs as I close the door. We may hide things from the people we love, but it seems entirely possible for us to also hide things from ourselves as I refuse to acknowledge her grandmother’s other words of advice.
You can be right, or you can be happy. It’s up to you to choose.
Chapter 27
BECKETT
