“No,” Emma says, cutting in, already decided. “You had a good idea for me to be in the room when we planned this, so it only makes sense.”
I stare at her. “Was it really my idea?”
“It was,” she insists. “I swear.”
I look between the two of them. “Are you serious right now?”
“Yes,” Emma says, completely unfazed. “They’re making charms? You’re making a charm. They’re weighing in on the trophy? You’re there for that, too. You’re the adult in the room.”
I blink. “I’m not sure that’s accurate.”
“It is now,” she says.
There’s a beat where I just look at her, then at Vivian, who—traitor—does not look nearly as opposed to this as she did two seconds ago.
“This feels like a trap,” I say.
“It’s team bonding.” She turns back to Vivian, all warmth again. “Thank you so much for everything today. Seriously.”
“You’re very welcome,” Vivian says, slipping easily back into that calm, professional tone.
“I’ll email the last details for Saturday,” Emma adds, already heading for the door. Then she glances back at me. “You coming?”
I look at Vivian, then down at my hand. Then back at Vivian.
“I suddenly understand why people fear organized women,” I mutter.
CHAPTER 5
VIVIAN
The air still holds the heat of the day, even as the sun dips lower over the Potomac River. Summer does that. The days linger for an infinite number of hours, or so it seems. And I’m right here ready to soak up each and every summery second I can.
I sit back in the porch chair, the wood warm beneath me, and take a slow sip of my iced tea. The glass is sweating in my hand, condensation slipping over my fingers as a faint breeze moves through the street. Not enough to cool anything, just enough to carry the smells with it—cut grass, warm pavement, something sweet from a nearby garden. Someone down the block is grilling. Again. A car rolls past, slow over cobblestones, and somewhere a screen door slams. Voices drift from a neighboring porch, easy, unhurried.
I glance down at my watch. An hour. My grandmother should have been home an hour ago.
I tip the glass back, finishing the last of the tea, and set it down beside me. The porch light flickers on overhead as the sky starts to fade into dusk.
Okay. Think. She was going to see Larry today, but then she mentioned bingo. Or maybe it was garden club.
Actually—no. I press my lips together. I’m fairly certain she said it was book club this week.Eroticbook club, which is still something I have not recovered from.
I exhale slowly. No one ever tells you that having a grandmother is basically the same thing as having a child, but now that I know that, I feel very confident in my current decision not to have an actual child of my own. This woman keeps me busy enough.
I reach for my phone, turning it over in my hand, already debating whether I should call Larry when a low rumble hits the end of the street before I can decide. I pause. That sound is like a…No. Surely not.
The engine gets louder, rolling up the street with a deep, unmistakable growl that doesn’t belong anywhere near our quiet little block.
I sit up a little straighter as a Harley pulls into view and slows in front of the house. I shouldn’t be shocked as my grandmother swings off the back like this is the most normal thing in the world.
Helmet comes off. Hair slightly askew. Her laugh is bright and unbothered as she pats the driver on the shoulder, says something I can’t hear, then reaches for her bag.
I just sit and watch. Processing as she turns and spots me on the porch, and beams like she hasn’t just arrived on the back of a motorcycle.
“Hello!” she calls, already heading up the steps. “I’m so sorry I’m late. I lost my phone!”
“Why am I not surprised to hear that?” I shake my head, pushing up out of the chair. “Is that anyone I know?”
