“Stomach was just a little off,” I said, ironically close to the truth. I couldn’t tell Glamma about the baby now. Not when I was hanging on by a thread. Once the scarf was threaded through the chain, I said, “All done.”
She took it from me, examining my work. “Thank you.” Then she handed it back. “Here you are.”
“What?” I asked, confused.
“I thought it would go great with the red dress I got you for your next date with the billionaire. You needed something nice to wear to whatever fancy place he takes you next.” She gave me a cheeky smile. “And don’t even worry about the price. I found it on clearance.”
At least there’s that. I shook my head at her, caught between exasperation and gratitude. She was my only family left, one of the few people who thought of me when I wasn’t serving them drinks or changing their diaper. “Thank you,” I said at last. And then I added, “I have good news for you too. Bryce is coming to dinner Friday night.”
When Friday night came, my stomach was a ball of nerves. Pretty sure that wasn’t a pregnancy thing. Just the fact that my fake-fiancé was about to spend an hour with the most important person in my life... and convince her we were madly in love.
Glamma may be getting older, but she was sharp as a tack. She’d sniff out any nonsense as fast as she found the sale rack in a store. But she was also incredibly excited to serve him dinner. So much so that she had me scurrying around to do last-minute chores before his arrival.
While stirring her pan of gravy, she called out, “Can you clear my pretty piles?” She was referring to her little stacks of mail, magazine clippings, and other bits and bobs she had stacked in every catch-all in the house.
“Sure,” I replied. I went to the table in the front entryway, picking up a stack of opened mail. Didn’t matter who it was from, whether it was junk mail or not, she opened every piece and then tucked it all back in the envelopes to deal with later. Recently, there had been less dealing with it though. Which I figured out a couple months ago when the electric went out because she forgot to pay the bill like she had for the last fifty years.
Grabbing the mail, I flipped through each piece on my way to the wastebasket in the laundry closet. The bifold doors squeaked as they opened. Once the doors were out of the way, I dropped a few pieces of junk mail in the trash between the washer and dryer. Then red block letters stared back at me.
FINAL NOTICE.
My eyes widened as I took it in. The bill was for her cell phone. The one she carefully bedazzled over the course of a week.
The letter said they were going to cut her service in less than a week.
With an ache in my chest, I scanned the QR code and drained the last of my restaurant paycheck to pay her bill. I couldn’t keep up with Grandma’s bills and extra shopping with a baby depending on me.
Thanks to Bryce, Glamma would have everything she needed and more—I’d make sure of it.
I had just finished cleaning the last of her “piles” when the doorbell rang.
“Is that him?” she called from the kitchen. “I need to take off my apron!”
Glancing at the cat-shaped clock on the wall, I yelled back, “Let me check. Better make sure your bra’s on too.”
She cackled in response, making me smile. But as I walked to the door, my smile faded. This dinner was make or break—for my baby, for my grandma... and for me.
I rubbed a comforting hand over my stomach, because it was the three of us now. Even if Glamma didn’t know it yet. She could know after the wedding was official and her future was secured.
The doorknob felt cool under my shaking hand as I grabbed it and twisted, revealing Bryce Madigan looking devastatingly handsome on the front step.
A gust of wind sent the wind chime tinkling, and he smiled at me, his short hair only slightly ruffled. In his hands, he held the most garish bouquet of flowers. Already, I knew my grandma would obsess over the arrangement for as long as they survived. In his other hand, he held a silver mixing bowl covered with a black rubber lid.
His eyes skated easily over my body in my orange cotton dress. “You look gorgeous,” he said. It sounded like he meant it.
“Bryce, I—" Before I could get any words out, Glamma edged me out of the doorway, sliding the last of her rings back onto her fingers. “Manners, Jada. Don’t make our guest stand out in the wind. Come on in, Mr. Madigan.”
Mr. Madigan?
Dumbly, I stepped out of the way, watching Bryce hand Glamma the flowers.
“Look at these, Jada!” she squealed like a much younger woman. “No man has gotten me flowers since your granddad was alive!” She brought the bouquet closer to her nose, breathing in deeply. Her murky brown eyes twinkled with glee. “These need to go in water right away.” She shoved the bouquet to me.
I let out a huff, caught off guard by her force.
Bryce wore an amused smile on his lips, giving me a view of his dimples. God, they were so cute.
Too bad those dimples won’t get passed on to baby girl.
