Page 22 of Bad Influence
There’s a part of me that knows who she flirts with is none of my business. I need to stop talking. I realize I’ve crossed the line as soon as Caroline’s eyebrows shoot up.
“And if I did? What are you going to do, kick me out again?”
“Are you ever going to let that go?”
“It happenedlast night,” she says, her voice rising slightly.
We’re once again fighting on a street, and I’m once again the instigator. Me. The man who avoids people, who just wants to stay in his apartment and paint all day. And the thing is, if it was anyone else, I wouldn’t be bothered in the least. I wouldn’t care if it was Eve or Lilith flirting with Luke because what happens intheir relationship is their responsibility unless I thought a line was being crossed and one or both would end up hurt.
But Caroline? She makes me lose my mind. Always has. Even when we were kids. Even when we grew up. Even when she turned away from me and chose to stay in that toxic hellhole we call our families.
“You’re changing the subject,” I growl.
“What is your problem?” Caroline demands. “So what if I was flirting with him? What’s the big deal? He’s cute.”
“He’s still in college.”
“And what am I? A forty-year-old divorcee?” Her eyes are the same color of clouds right before a big thunderstorm and she’s close enough I can see the gold flecks in them. “Why does this bother you so much?”
“You’re my brother’s fiancée,” I say. It’s the only sensible thing I can think of, and it’s true.Idon’t have the right to do anything. I can’t be upset unless I’m upset on his behalf. “What do you think Beckett is going to say if he finds you flirting with another man?”
Her reaction to that question is unexpected. She doesn’t get angry, cry, or ask me to not tell Beckett anything. Instead, she laughs. She’s standing there laughing like I’ve told the most amazing joke which has her gasping for breath.
“That’s a good one,” she says, when she can finally catch her breath. “I really needed that.” Reaching up, she brushes away a tear with the back of her finger. “Anyway, which way to the shop?”
My anger falters in front of her bizarre reaction. All I can do is tell her to continue walking straight. I take a sip of my sweet coffee and I can’t even hate it because it’s exactly what she’s tasting right now. And if that’s not the most fucked up thing, then I don’t know what is.
“What exactly are you up to?”
I’m outside the shop, on the phone with my grandmother. Through the window, I see Caroline and Eve behind the counter. Eve is showing Caroline her artwork and Caroline is looking on with intrigue, her chin resting on her hand.
“What do you mean?” Gran sounds so innocent, and as much as I love my grandmother, that’s the kind of bullshit I can never deal with.
The May afternoon sun beats down on my back and after the harsh winter, it’s exactly what’s needed. The early spring breeze carries with it the scent of yeast and fresh baked bread from the bakery down the street.
“I mean, why the hell did you give this apartment to Caroline and me? And why didn’t you tell her I’m living here?”
I thrust a hand into my hair. I’m growing agitated, which doesn’t happen often when I’m talking to my grandmother. She’s the only one who lets me live my life without constantly reminding me what a huge disappointment I am as the eldest son of the York family.
“I figured she’ll need a place to escape to one day,” Gran says, insouciantly. “I was trying to help the sweet thing.”
I recall the look in Caroline’s eyes before she walked out of the apartment. If anything, it was vicious and wild. The murderous gleam in her eyes when I asked her to come back. The storm when I’d accused her of flirting earlier.
She isn’t sweet, at all.
“You should have told me,” I say through clenched teeth. “Unlike her, I’m actually living here. This is my home, not a vacation spot.”
Gran breathes out a sigh. “You’re right. I should have told you, and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ambush either of you. I know you won’t believe me, but I thought I was doing the right thing.”
I exhale loudly. I can’t stay angry at her, no matter how hard I try.
“You need to get her out of here. Find her another apartment. She can’t stay with me.”
“She’s only been there one day,” Gran says.
“Which is more than enough,” I counter.
Gran is quiet for a minute. “What’s wrong, really?”
