I ignore the flutters in my stomach and swing my helmet on. Then I fire up the bike and Morgan waves. He watches me pull away.
Small-town people are nosy. When I agreed to this charade, I didn’t think about all the people in Morgan’s life that we’re deceiving.
This isn’t what I wanted. When I left Grandma in her sickbed, all I wanted was for us both to be a little less lonely, even if it was only temporary. Agreeing to go out on a date with Morgan is one thing—faking an engagement is another.
How did this get so out of control?
I wonder if he’s told his best friends that all this is pretend.
And then I wonder about that wedding he was planning. He was dressed up for lunch today, looking hot as hell. What kind of ridiculous tie would he wear to our wedding?
I have never once thought about wearing a white dress, but stupid Morgan put a seed in my head. I wouldn’t want to wear anything long or lacy or with fucking sequins on it.
Morgan probably pictures a bride in a long white dress with a veil or some stupid shit.
Not me.
By the time I trudge up to Grandma’s apartment, I’m even crankier than usual. When I turn the corner, though, my mood plummets.
My backpack is sitting outside Grandma’s door.
I run down the hallway like two seconds are going to make a goddamn difference in reality and shove my key into the lock. It turns, but when I push it open, Grandma is right there, blocking my entrance.
“Grandma,” I seethe.
“What?” She’s ready for a fight already, I can tell. I consider shouldering my way in, but I don’t want to hurt her.
“What is my backpack doing out here?”
“Why do you think? Go back to your fiancé’s house and quit bothering me.”
“I’m not staying at Morgan’s house; I’m staying with you.”
“Like hell you are. Good night, Rory. Tell Morgan to wrap it up. Or don’t. I’d like great-grand babies.”
“Grandma. I’m warning you. Let me in.”
She shuts the door on my face.
“Grandma!”
I pound my fist on the wood, which does nothing but hurt my hand.
A door opens down the hall and a frowning old lady sticks her head out.
I bite off a curse and look up at the ceiling. I cannot yell at old ladies in public twice in one day, especially not her neighbors. I need them to like her so she can finally make some fucking friends.
“Fine,” I say. “Whatever.” We normally have breakfast together before I drive home but just for this, breakfast is off the table. I even consider driving home, but it’s been a long day and I don’t think I can safely make the drive back. I sling my backpack over my shoulder and stomp down the hallway. I guess I’m going back to the bar. You win this time, Grandma.
Rory
* * *
Morgan’s face lights up the moment he catches sight of me back in his bar. “Miss me already?” he says, leaning his forearms on the bar. He is fucking delighted to see me and he doesn’t even know the best—or worst—part of it yet.
I toss my backpack on the bar with a thunk. “Grandma kicked me out.”
He does a really bad job of hiding his laughter with a cough and I glare at him.
