Page 56 of Not That Into You

I tuck a lock of hair back behind her ear. “You’re going to have to be more comfortable with me being affectionate.”

She narrows her eyes. “As long as you don’t go overboard.”

I place a hand over my heart. “Me? Go overboard? I’d never.”

I can’t help but laugh at her withering look.

“Shouldn’t we be mingling?”

Sighing, I drain the rest of my champagne. “I suppose.” I roll my shoulders and rest my hand on her lower back. “Let’s do this.”

I introduce Monica to a few family friends and business associates, making small talk and laughing at comments that aren’t all that funny as we slowly make our way through the house and back into the living room. Every time a man spends longer than necessary checking Monica out or a person asks pointed questions about her family, I grit my teeth, wanting nothing more than to grab her around the waist and make our escape.

“Cameron!”

My shoulders tense as I hear my grandmother coming up behind us.

“I knew that was you, even from behind! Who else would wear a light-colored suit at a formal party? Ridiculous.”

I glance around at the various shades of suits, including a few that are white, but let her comment pass. Instead, I muster a smile before dropping a kiss on her papery skin.

“Good evening, Grandmother.”

“And who’s this?”

It takes me a moment to realize she’s referring to Monica.

“This is Monica. My girlfriend. You met her last night.”

“Really?” She squints at Monica. “I didn’t recognize you.” Her brow furrows. “I thought you would be helping with catering.”

My breath catches as I stare at my grandmother, momentarily at a loss for words. Did she just imply...?

I look at Monica, whose face is carefully blank.

Yes, my grandmother definitely just implied Monica should be part of the catering staff.

My chest tightens with anger. “And why did you think that?”

My grandmother looks at me. “Hm?”

“Why did you think Monica would be helping with catering?”

Monica squeezes my hand, but I ignore her.

“Oh.” My grandmother looks surprised to be challenged. “I just assumed...”

My nostrils flare. “You just assumed what?”

Before my grandmother can answer, my father appears and addresses her directly. “Beverly, you look as if you need another drink.”

“Oh.” She looks down at her empty glass. “I suppose I do.”

“Let me get that for you.”

Her smile wobbles as she takes his arm, and he turns his icy gaze on me. “What is wrong with you? You’ve upset your grandmother.”

Before I can respond, my father steers my grandmother away, disapproval lingering in his wake.

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