Page 30 of The Ex-Best Thing
The door to the garage swings shut and Benny enters the kitchen with a large banana box, stuffed with produce and sandwich bread and tortillas. “She has a concussion.”
I was already reaching for my sunglasses, but my hand stills. He was serious, then, about me keeping up the façade around his grandma. She seems harmless to me, but he looks concerned, so I drop my hand.
Mrs. Rhodes looks between us. “What’s going on here?”
“I don’t know what you mean.” Benny sets the box down and starts putting away groceries. It’s oddly attractive to see how familiar he is with his grandma’s kitchen. The man has clearly spent a lot of time here, and it’s warm and homey and inviting.
I can’t remember the last time I watched a man put a loaf of sandwich bread into a bread box and thoughtmmm, come to mama, but here we are.
“Anold friendcomes by and spends every day with you, and you’re acting like I’m strange for questioning why you don’t want me to know who she is.” Mrs. Rhodes waves her knife between us. “I heard you outside, Benny. The window was open. You think I’ll see through her disguise.”
His jaw hardens.
“Plus,” she adds, slicing another piece of banana bread and putting it on a second plate, “she calls you Benny. No one but your fans and I call you Benny.”
Yikes. Didn’t think that one through, did I?
Mrs. Rhodes puts the plate in front of the stool next to mine, then crosses her arms over her ample chest. She ticks up a dark penciled-in eyebrow. “Off with the sunglasses, young lady. I deserve to know who’s eating my banana bread.”
Ouch. She shoves the bread at me, then guilts me for it? This is some next-level grandma stuff.
“You’re making this a bigger thing than it is,” he says easily. It’s clear to me he’s trying to play this off like it’s nothing, which only heightens my worry. But if that’s how he wants to play things, I’ll go along with him.
“My name’s Anne,” I tell her, pinching off a piece of banana bread and popping it in my mouth. Divine. “The sunglasses help because of my headaches.”
“Okay.” She doesn’t sound convinced. Her silver bob shakes slightly with her head. “Shall I lower the lights?”
Mrs. Rhodes doesn’t wait for a confirmation. She flips a switch and half the lights in the kitchen go out, leaving us in dim overhead bar lighting.
“Thank you.” I take another bite of bread, so I don’t have to say anything else.
Benny shakes his head and turns back to finish putting the fruit away. This is it. My heart thuds because it’s clear he’s doing his best to help me keep my secret. Am I self-sabotaging? I’d like to think I’m not, because I’ve been out in the world for two days now and not one person has identified me. What’s one more test?
I take my sunglasses off and squint against the bright kitchen light while pushing some of the blonde wig out of my face and hooking it behind my ear.
When I glance up, Mrs. Rhodes has gone white.
“Benny!” I say urgently, grabbing his attention.
He glances at me before looking at her, then springs to action, catching his grandmother as she crumples to the floor.
Benny carrieshis grandma into the living room and lays her on the couch while I locate the remote and turn off the TV. She’s already rousing, but the fainting thing puts me on edge.
“Did she leave?” she asks him, her voice groggy. “Tell me she didn’t run away.”
“I’m still here.” I cross the room and stand over Benny’s shoulder. “Can I get you some water? A slice of banana bread?”
“Goodness,” Mrs. Rhodes breathes. “A slice of bread fromMiss Bree Belacourt.”
So Benny wasn’t kidding. The woman knows who I am. I have freckles, wrong foundation, thick eyeliner, and a blonde wig, and she can still identify me. She’s a powerhouse.
I search for a way to lighten the mood. “Technically, it’s your bread, Mrs. Rhodes.”
She giggles, which makes me giggle. Benny cracks a smile.
“Call me Nancy, at least,” she says.
“Oh, that’s my mom’s name,” I tell her.
