Page 68 of Mark my Words

“That’s not what...” she trailed off, blushing as she glanced at Pietro. “That’s not what I said. I was just making sure you had what you needed to get your work done.”

“I downloaded some files from the server on my way here, so I planned to sit outside and work a little today. That’s not interfering with your plans for today, is it, Nana?”

“No, Chicklet.” I cringed at the nickname, but I was fairly certain that was why she kept using it. I’d obviously gotten my irritating habit of using ridiculous nicknames from her. Now I knew why Sam hated it so much when I called him Spamela. Chicklet made my eyelid twitch.

“Pietro was going to teach me how to prune the rose bushes so they’d flower more next year.”

“Really?” I frowned. Despite hating the trappings of the size of her bank account, Nana had never been a fan of outdoor work. She didn’t think it was beneath her, but I’d never seen my grandmother excited at the prospect of gardening. “Since when do you care about your rose bushes flowering? Don’t you have a company that cares for the grounds here?”

“Well, yes, but Pietro is a master gardener, and he’s done wonders with the landscaping at his place. It was in shambles when he moved in, and now it’s a veritable oasis.”

“Hmm.” I tried to hide my smirk but failed, glancing briefly at Pietro, who was nursing a freshly-squeezed orange juice with reddened cheeks. Maybe I would hit up one of those Internet cafés and give the two of them some privacy. “Which one of those cafes serves the best lobster rolls? Bonus points if they have fried clam strips.”

The beaming, semi-grateful smile my grandmother graced me with was worth spending a few hours away from the house to give them some privacy.

Luckily, the restaurant she recommended was only a short walk down the beach. It felt good to breathe in the fresh sea air, have the wind whipping at my ponytail, and the soft sand beneath my feet. It made the world seem less hectic, and my mind already felt clearer. I had a feeling Nana was sitting on the Sam bomb to diffuse when I least expected it. She never forgot anything, so I knew from her hinting over the phone the subject was far from over.

My assessment was correct. Nana was waiting on the back patio of her cottage—read: Cape Cod mini mansion—when I walked back after getting in a few solid hours of editing in the seaside café she’d recommended. My stomach was pleasantly full of carbs and local seafood, making me miss the summers I spent here as a teenager.

Maybe I needed to make time for that to start happening again. The promotion would come with two weeks of paid vacation every year, and while most editors failed to take advantage of it, I could see myself planning a working vacation from now on to spend time with Nana. Who knew how many years I’d have left with her? I already regretted enough things in my life. I didn’t want to add neglecting the only person who gave a damn about me in my family to the list.

“You get all your work done with the free Fi-Wi?”

Rolling my eyes, I settled into one of the plush cushions on the rattan lounger next to the one she was stretched out on and dropped my bag to the flagstone. “You know it’s called Wi-Fi, Nana. You aren’t that old.”

“Yeah, yeah, Chicklet, I know. But it’s still fun for me to tease you youngsters about your obsessive need for technology. I get it with your brother working in marketing, but book editors in my day did just fine with pen and paper.”

“Publishing is very much in the digital age, Nana. You have to keep up with the times, or you’ll get left behind. The part-time interns in the office already make fun of me for doing a paper edit on the final draft of most books I work on.”

“Not this one? I haven’t seen you with your trusty red pen. Why is that?”

Laying back against the cushion behind me, I stared up at the clear blue sky with scattered, fluffy, white clouds. “It’s different for this one. I’m working with someone. He needs to be able to see my notes.”

“How’s that going? I can’t see you giving up the reins all that easily. Doesn’t Isobel let you have quite a bit of freedom?”

“She does, but two authors co-wrote this book. Only one of them works with Isobel. I’ve been doing edits with the other author’s editing team.”

She pursed her lips, nodding as she pulled her sunglasses to the tip of her nose. “Sometimes, it’s not such a terrible thing to be part of a team.”

“It’s not the team that I’m a part of. I work well with Sam, but...”

“Oh, so this is the infamous Sam?” Her eyes lit up with this added information, and I knew my avoidance of mentioning him hadn’t gotten me out of the inevitable conversation.

Groaning quietly, I threw my forearm over my eyes, preparing myself for her interrogation. “It’s not like that, Nana.”

“You sure about that? You’re being awfully dramatic for someone who just has a professional working relationship with someone.”

Damn my brother for telling her all my secrets. Thank God he didn’t know what was really going on with Sam. He’d have had a field day teasing me about dipping my quill in the company ink pot, even if I didn’t technically have the quill in the relationship.

“What’s the problem, Chicklet? It sounds like he’s your age, understands the stresses of your job, and if Gregory is talking about setting him up with that fancy pants PA of his, he must be handsome.”

“We both want the same job, Nana. It’s...it’s complicated.”

“So un-complicate it. Is this job more important to you than finding someone to love? Someone to share your life with? I’m not going to be around forever, and I know you don’t like to let people close enough to see you vulnerable.”

“What would anyone in this family know about love?”

At her sharp intake of air, I knew I’d hit a nerve. She’d been coaxed into marriage with an older man at nineteen, one I knew she didn’t love romantically. She was fond of my grandfather, but they never acted like they were in love. Not that I had any clue what love looked like outside the books I edited.

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