Breaking up with My Boss - Alexis Winter Page 0,54

of you. I think you’ll have a long and fruitful marriage. I can only pray that I last long enough to meet my grandchildren.”

My back straightens and I suddenly feel a little jittery.

Matthew lets out a nervous laugh. “We . . . uh . . . well, we haven’t really decided if we want kids or not, Gran. It’s something we plan to discuss later on down the line.”

“Later?” she gasps. “These are important issues, Matthew! What if you want kids and Poppy doesn’t? Or what if she wants kids and you don’t? These things should’ve been discussed before you even asked for her hand. You have to make sure you’re compatible in every aspect.”

“Oh, we’re very compatible,” I blurt out, then immediately regret it. Matthew’s eyes flash to mine and I can see the question in them: Why the hell did you say that?

“That’s nice, dear. But I meant compatible outside of the bedroom.”

“Gran . . .” Matthew breathes out in embarrassment.

“What? You act like I don’t know what a man and wife do. I was married for 57 years, you know.”

“Dinner is served,” the maid comes in and says.

“Thank God,” Matthew says under his breath as we all stand. He goes over to his grandmother and helps her from her seat. She seems to need more help than she has in the past.

“Thank you. This medicine just makes me so dizzy,” she says, shuffling across the hardwood floor.

We all make it to the dining room and take our seats. Dinner is served, and as usual, it’s delicious and decadent. The food is always served with wine, and without fail, there’s some kind of fancy dessert I’ve never tried before but love just the same. Tonight’s conversation flows easily, his grandmother now involving me more and more with each passing week. It seems like she’s suddenly welcomed me into the family with open arms—like I’ve always been here. The awkwardness from before has faded away, now replaced with warmth, acceptance, and love.

The dinner ends at 9 p.m., and we leave on the dot. She doesn’t even bother showing us to the door. She’s ready for bed and a staff member helps her upstairs while another shows us out. The two of us get back in the car, where we’re surrounded by darkness.

“Your grandmother is very sweet,” I say, staring up at the night sky that’s midnight blue with millions of tiny, brightly-lit stars. There’s only a sliver of a moon tonight, making the stars burn that much brighter in its absence.

He chuckles under his breath. “You haven’t seen the real granny yet. Just wait until she needs another hospital stay. She’ll turn from being sweet as candy to rotten as a candy apple a week after Halloween.”

I smile and shrug. “Can’t we all do that, though? I know you can, and you’ve seen me at my worst.”

“I have?” he asks.

“Like you could forget . . .”

He draws his brows together, wracking his brain for any moment when I may have been anything less than pleasant.

“The car,” I point out.

He laughs. “Oh, right. How could I forget that? I get it back tomorrow afternoon. Stay away from my baby.”

I giggle. “Better not piss me off again.”

“We both know the odds of that.”

“Then she’s still not safe,” I joke.

“So it looks like we’re going to be faking a marriage too . . . not just an engagement.”

I know he’s joking, but I can’t help but think about it. Damaging his car is what got me here: faking this engagement and ending up in his bed. If I do it again, maybe that would be a reason to keep me around longer. Maybe forever? I chuckle at the silly thought. But how long can I pretend I don’t enjoy being with him? I think I’ve already dropped the ball on that one. I think he knows how much I like being with him like this, in our fake engagement—not only sharing our lives but sharing our beds too.

But it’s more than just sex. Over these last couple weeks, I’ve seen him become softer, less angry. I’ve watched him give up that control he always seemed to need. He’s given me trust and friendship as he’s become someone I feel I can count on and lean on. I never would’ve guessed when I smashed the shit out of his priceless sports car with his fancy golf club that this is where we’d end up. But now that we’re here, I’m afraid to leave.