Page 71 of Zachary

I shrug. “Depends on where you want to put it. I don’t think the courtyard you have here is big enough to meet the fire regulations.” The townhouse we arranged for him was designed to be low maintenance.

He pouts. “Damn.”

Drying the last bowl, I slot it neatly into the cupboard. “But the yard at my place is. Or we could ask around town, see if someone who has one would let you use it.”

His nod is clearly disappointed. “That’s probably the sensible option.”

The doorbell rings, and I toss the dishtowel onto the counter. “I’ll get it.” It’s probably Zoe, come to beg forgiveness from both of us for her little trick last night. I wonder if she’s sorry enough to let me install a wood-burning oven for Ronan in her yard.

I’m planning the best way to frame the argument when I open the door and see my grandmother.

“You’re not Zoe,” I say, my intelligence fleeing.

“No, I am not.”

We stare at each other. What’s she doing here? Normally if she wants to see me, she calls and I go to her. I can’t even remember the last time she visited our house—and I know for sure she’s never come to the front door and rung the bell. Though, I suppose this is Ronan’s house, not mine, so maybe…

“Are we going to stand here all day?” she asks acerbically, and I shake off my brain fog.

“No. Come in.” I step back so she can pass me, then gesture toward the living room. If she’s here to cause trouble, I can kick her out. I can. But in the meantime, I’m not leaving my nine-centuries-old grandmother standing in the cold on the doorstep. “Would you like a drink? Or a cinnamon roll?”

She sniffs, and at first I think she’s being derogatory, but then she says, “Is that what I can smell?”

“Uh… yes. Ronan baked this morning.”

“I ate not long ago, but I could be convinced to take one home with me.”

My jaw drops, and I snap my mouth closed. Has she taken a blow to the head? “Of course,” I manage. “I’ll—”

“Zac?” Ronan calls, coming down the hall. “Who is it?”

Part of me wishes he’d stayed safely in the kitchen, but I’m also so grateful he’s here to rescue me. He steps into the living room, and his smile vanishes as his gaze lands on Grandmother.

“Damaris,” he says. “This is a surprise.” He glances at me questioningly, and I shrug.

“Yes. I knew Zac would be here, and I need to speak with him.” She sits in one of the armchairs, and Ronan’s lips twitch. Anyone else might be irritated by her audacity, but of course my dragon finds it funny.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” he says, then squeezes my arm. “I’m just in the kitchen.” It’s as much a warning for Grandmother as it is reassurance for me.

“You should stay,” she says, surprising us both.

“I should?”

One of her brows rises in that expression I know so well. “You and Zac are together now, correct? Or have I been misinformed?”

Annoyed, I take Ronan’s hand and lead him to the couch. “You haven’t been misinformed.” To him, I add, “Full disclosure, remember? I would’ve told you later anyway, so you may as well stay.”

He just smiles and squeezes my hand, and we both turn to look at Grandmother. She’s watching us closely, but her face is unreadable.

“I came to apologize.”

The shock that reverberates through me this time is too much to recover from. Apologize?Grandmother?No. This isn’t a thing that happens.

She’s still talking, though. Saying things that don’t make sense.

“I should have taken the time to listen to your idea. You’re my grandson, I love you, and I value you. You deserved that from me.”

An awkward little silence falls. I don’t know what to say… It’s possible I’ve lost the power to speak, even. Luckily, Ronan is with me.

---