“No! It’s – I just mean…” She took a deep, stabilizing breath. “I thought that you would move in, and we could go over your contracttogether,” she emphasized. “You know, like two adults sharing an apartment would usually do. Talk about the expectations and share the important facts about the apartment and each other. Like about the bedroom outlets. And deathly allergies.”
Emma glared at her wordlessly.
And Regan’s stomach turned in on itself all over again as she conceded, “But I should have read it. I really should have. I’msorry. This is the last thing I would have ever done intentionally,and I really hope that despite whatever it is that you think of me, you know that.”
Emma’s strong jaw set, and she didn’t speak for several seconds. And when she did, she ignored Regan’s apology entirely.
“I need this to sink in for you: we are not friends. We don’t need to be friends to live together. In fact, I haven’teverbeen friends with my roommates, and I lived with them for three years. I’m not a replacement for Sutton now that you don’t have her at your beck and call every single day. You will live your life, and I will live my life, and even though we share a bathroom, those lives areseparate.I think you’ll find that way, we’ll have far less chances of killing each other.”
Her blue eyes glinted challengingly up at Regan, and she – for once – found herself powerless to disagree.
three
Sheryl Bordeaux was a card shark.
It was something Emma had learned about her grandmother so long ago, it was simply ingrained knowledge at this point. Her gram hadn’t pulled any punches when playing card games with Emma when she’d been too young to even shuffle, and she certainly didn’t give anything away now that she was an adult.
Emma kept that in mind now, as she always did whenever they played cards. Some of her most frequent and fond memories were of sitting around her grandmother’s card table in the small Brooklyn apartment that she’d been raised in, the same table they were playing around now.
She wassoclose to gin rummy, she could taste it. And it was so rare that she won against her grandmother; it was all the more exciting. Still, she maintained her poker face, acting as nonchalant as possible when her gram picked up a card from the deck.
Only for her façade to drop a moment later, when her grandmother triumphantly set down her own cards and declared, “Gin.”
“Are you kidding me? I was so close!” Emma set her own cards down so that her gram could see exactly how close.
The smile that played around her grandmother’s lips was fond and amused as she tutted at Emma. “Close only counts in horseshoes and–”
“Hand grenades. Yeah, yeah, I know,” Emma finished with a grumble, unable to hold back her smile, though, as she gathered the cards in her hands. “You taught me that life lesson a long time ago.”
“You have time for one more game?” Gram asked as she readjusted in her seat, leaning in with an undeniably hopeful glint in her eyes.
“Sure,” Emma readily agreed, even though she didn’t check the time first. With her new job, she’d only had the time to stop by and see her grandmother once a week, which weighed on her enough to never cut that visit short. She slowed her shuffling down, peering out the window.
Primrose Grove wasn’t a palace by any means, but it was one of the nicer independent living facilities on the outskirts of the city. They’d been lucky to get her gram into a private room here at amorethan fair price, given that her grandmother had worked with the mother of the facility director for decades.
As it stood, her grandmother had a small bedroom, living room, kitchenette, and bathroom, with a large window in the living area that overlooked the courtyard. And Emma couldn’t be more grateful.
“Do you want to go for a little walk instead?” She suggested, keeping her voice light and conversational. “I could use one; sitting at the desk all week is killer on my back.”
A little fib, given that her workspace included an adjustable standing desk. But what her grandmother didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.
But if there was one thing Emma knew about her gram, it was that she’d do a lot of things for Emma that she wouldn’tnecessarily do for herself. Like agree to voluntarily go for a walk around Primrose.
Her grandmother watched her carefully before nodding. “Why not?”
Even though her gram was still a little slow to move, she’d stopped needing to use her walker in the last month. Even so, as they stepped out of her grandmother’s suite and into the clean, well-maintained hallway, Emma subtly hovered an arm behind her.
“I know what you’re doing,” her grandmother whispered, turning her head to look up at Emma with a smart, sharp smile. It was the same smile she’d given Emma throughout her life whenever she’d caught her engaging in anything she shouldn’t be doing. In fairness, it was a rarity, as Emma had always been a devout rule-follower.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she side-stepped, reluctantly dropping her arm back to her own side.
“The cardiologist said I’mfineto be walking on my own, honey. I’ve been doing my steps every day to make sure.”
“Have you been doing any of those steps with any of the exercise groups here?” She asked, already knowing what the answer was.
“No,” her gram muttered. “You know me; I like to keep to myself.”
Emma knew that wasn’t necessarily the case, but her heart ached with sympathy for her grandmother.