Page 50 of Rosabel and the Billionaire Beast

“—you’ve got great mobility, all things considered,” one woman said.

She had thick hair pulled into a ponytail and wore teal scrubs. Sporting a bright, cheerful smile, she was the friendliestperson in the house, and she shuffled to make way for the elderly woman behind her.

Duncan’s grandma was hunched over, each movement was clearly a chore. Graying hair nestled in tight curls on her head, and her hand shook the crystal head of a cane that impaled the green carpet with every step she took.

“What you do with me is no one else’s business,” the older woman said to the younger.

Surprisingly, this only made the nurse smile. “Of course. My apologies.”

Dipping her chin, she headed out the door, leaving the rest of us wading in this mire.

The elderly woman’s cane poked the carpet a few more times. Hunched over, she lifted her head. Her gaze trailed from giving a glimpse to Mrs. Hawthorne, a scowl at Duncan, and a superior sniff at me.

“Who might you be?”

Duncan cleared his throat. “Grandmother,” he began, his voice shaky.

He took a step, but his parents moved faster. They edged past us and climbed the step onto the marble entryway as well. They faced one another in some kind of stand-off. His dad was the only person who looked happy at all.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Grandma Hawthorne muttered.

“I meant to tell you,” Mrs. Hawthorne began in a rushed kind of way as if eager to please her mother-in-law. “I invited Duncan to your party.”

“My party?” The cane jabbed the tile and made a tapping noise. “That’s all well and good, but who’s that woman with him?”

The way she saidwomanhad much worse nuances than I ever thought I’d hear. It was like she implied I was his escort or something.

Duncan shot me an apologetic glance. He cleared his throat and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Everyone, if you’ll allow me.”

In unison, the three others’ heads rotated in our direction. Grandma glowered.

Oh, good. This was going well.

THIRTEEN

rosabel

Duncan cleared his throat again.“I’d like you to meet Rosabel Astor.”

They didn’t respond at first. Grandma took precedence. “Get me to my chair, Beverly,” she muttered. “I need to sit down for this.”

“Of course,” Beverly said, quickly acquiescing.

My mouth fell open. I was astonished at their rudeness—but not to me. To Duncan. They acted as though he hadn’t spoken at all.

“Your girlfriend?” his mom asked, finally responding to her son’s words.

Her heels clacked on the marble as she helped Grandma Hawthorne toward the living room, down the step, and to a cushy armchair. I stepped aside, staying by the piano, as far out of their way as possible.

Duncan stepped forward, hurrying to offer his assistance as well. His grandma clung to his arm as she lowered herself to the cushions.

“Or have you married?” Mrs. Hawthorne went on, straightening and returning to her spot on the love seat. “Is she your wife?”

My defenses went on high alert. I raised my hands.

“We’re not married,” I said, trying to breathe.

They thought he would get married without telling them? What was wrong with this family?

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