“Oh? And when was this?” She’s casual, nonchalant in a way that screams, Give me all the details and don’t leave anything out.
“Last weekend, we bumped into each other for the first time in the hallway, and she had all this food so I weaseled my way into an invitation to eat most of it.” I give Nan the side-eye.
Abbott’s grandma nods and hums, not taking her eyes off the floral arrangement. “Then what?”
“Then…um…” I rack my brain for some details. “Then this morning she texted me to ask if I could come check on the, uh—Pussy of Terror, and I wasn’t busy so here I am.”
There. I said it. I threw down the P word to get a reaction from Nan, and now I wait to see how she responds.
A smile tips the corners of her maroon-lined mouth, and another chuckle escapes her lips. “I like that. Very clever.”
Clever? More like vulgar, but whatever—I’m not going to argue with the matriarch of a powerful American family. I’m a moron sometimes, but I’m not a complete idiot.
“So, you’re here delivering flowers…?”
Nan places the last one, stepping back to survey her work. “I was in the neighborhood, so I thought I’d stop by.”
“And you have a key.”
“That little detail can stay between you and me, can’t it?”
“Nan! You sneak! Are you telling me Abbott doesn’t know you sneak in here?”
Nan shrugs. “She must know—how do you think she supposes flowers just appear?” She fluffs the arrangement. “Elves? Please, don’t be foolish.”
“How often do you pop in like this?”
Now she turns to face me. Narrows a set of brilliantly blue eyes. “Are you suggesting I pop in unannounced when I’m not welcome?”
“What? No!” I mean, kind of, yeah. “What if she’s—you know…getting busy and you walk in?”
Nan scoffs, hefting the full vase off the hutch. “My granddaughter does not get busy.”
“How do you know?”
“Please—I would know.” Her tone is offended as she pads across the room in heels, setting the flowers in the center of the small dining room table. “Besides, if she were getting busy, she wouldn’t need all those toys in her bedside table, would she?”
Did she just say Abbott has toys in her bedside table?
Like—as in, sex toys? Vibrators and dildos and shit? There is no way her grandmother would just let that fun fact slip, and she should definitely stop using terminology like ‘getting busy’ before my brain explodes from this entire conversation. It’s too much to hear the words coming from this woman’s mouth. But then…the rest of what she just divulged clicks in my brain. I stare, mouth gaping.
“Who do you think bought them?” She fluffs her coiffure, plopping down on one end of the sofa and crossing her legs. “I’m not just a regular nan. I’m a cool nan.”
Okay, now my jaw is dropping. She bought her granddaughter sex toys? What the hell kind of grandma is this?
Eyes stray down the hall, toward the bedroom… I want to know what’s in that bedside table.
“Sit,” she demands, pointing to the opposite end of the couch. “Let’s talk.”
Let’s not. Nan isn’t the boss of me. I do what I want.
“Sit,” she repeats.
I sit.
“So. Brooks.” Her fingers entwine, resting on her knees. “You live across the hall?”
“Yup, directly across—Abbott has the better view.” Ha ha.
Nan’s smile is slow. “Indeed.”
Um…
“What is it you do?” Her features are sharp and directed straight at me. “Please don’t tell me you’re a travel blogger, or in finance.”
My posture straightens. “I’m an architect.”
“Ah!” She’s delighted. “Residential or industrial or…”
“Mostly hotels, resorts. High-rise apartments. Some neighborhoods.” Why do I feel like I’m being interviewed?
“Any pets?”
“No.”
“How do you feel about cats?”
We both look at Desi. “They’re tolerable.” At best.
“Are you seeing anyone?”
This makes me laugh, and before I can stop it, a loud one bursts out of me. “Uh—no.”
“What’s so funny about that?”
“Um…nothing?”
Nan sinks lower into the cushions of Abbott’s couch, taking me in. “Ah, I see. You’re one of those confirmed bachelors who has no intention of settling down.” She plucks an imaginary piece of lint from her expensive suit jacket. “Well.” She waves her manicured hand around dismissively, diamond ring sparkling, bracelets jingling. “No matter.”
No matter? What does that even mean?
Nan is a piece of work.
“I don’t want a girlfriend.” Been there, done that.
“No one really does, darling.” Nan smiles, but she’s patronizing me. “You young people and your ambitions. So admirable.”
Don’t get your hopes up, lady. I’m not a piece of meat dropped onto