Page 29 of Rory Rides Her Fake Fiancé
“Argh. Grandma, I’m not moving yet.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re going to drive three hours each way every time you want to see your fiancé?”
Three hours? Where the hell does Rory live?
“And,” she continues, “I’m not going to have you going out to see him every time you visit and then sneaking in at all hours of the night.”
“I won’t be sneaking in!”
“Don’t you want her to live with you?”
Oh, that’s for me.
“Yes, of course,” I say. Actually, the thought makes me giddy. I can’t even imagine living with her. Does she wear black all the time? Even to bed?
Rory glares at me as if she can read my mind.
I blink at her with faux innocence. “Safety first. Your grandma’s right. That’s a lot of driving. And what are you going to do in winter?”
Rory points a finger at me. “Don’t you dare team up with her.”
I gesture to Mrs. Patterson. “She’s a smart lady.”
Mrs. Patterson preens while her granddaughter grabs one of the many forks set in front of her. I shift my thighs away from her reach.
“I’ll think about it,” she seethes.
Rory
* * *
Living-situation discussion aside, lunch went about as well as can be expected. Morgan was charming, toeing the line between friendly and flirting, but I’m pretty sure he was doing it just to get a rise out of me.
He smirked at me when the server cleared away all my unused forks.
Now, we’re following Grandma upstairs so Morgan can “meet Bartholomeow.”
As usual, Grandma is a few paces ahead of me and Morgan falls back to walk beside me.
“I guess we should have seen that moving-in thing coming, huh?”
I blow out a breath. “Yeah.”
He’s quiet for a few paces, and then asks, “Do you really drive three hours each way?”
“Yup.”
“Where do you live?”
“Westchester.”
He whistles. “That is far.”
“Well, it wasn’t far from Grandma two retirement communities ago. She keeps finding reasons to move, though.”
He frowns.
“I used to visit once a week. She keeps hating the places.” I shrug. “She knew the consequences when she decided to move.”
