Page 29 of Bound and Blitzed

He chuckles. “Never too late to join ‘em.”

“You…you’re married?” Arlene points between Avery and me.

Raia’s stunned eyes snap to mine. I can’t read the expression on her face; she looks taken aback more than anything.

“Congratulations, bro,” Cohen offers, tossing an arm around Avery’s shoulders.

“Who’s married?” an elderly woman asks, entering the kitchen. “Harold? You’re too slow. We’re missing the tea!”

“You just had tea,” a man calls back. Then, he steps into the kitchen behind his wife, and I fight the urge to laugh.

These are clearly Avery’s grandparents and they are…fabulous.

“If you have another one, you’ll be up all night, needing the—” Harold starts.

His wife cuts him off by holding up a hand. Her eyes dart around the space, assessing the situation. “Who’s married?”

Avery raises a tentative hand. “I am, Grandma. I married Valentina while we were in Texas.”

Grandma’s eyes bounce to me and then back to her grandson. She clutches the neckline of her shirt, and I straighten, praying this sweet, older woman doesn’t collapse from the shock.

“You eloped?” she hisses.

“Well, I suppose.” Avery scratches his temple. “It was at the courthouse.”

“Without a man of the cloth present?” Harold barks out.

“Here we go,” Joe mutters.

“Dad, not everyone wants religious intervention,” Arlene says gently.

“But Avery needs it,” Grandma points out, helpfully.

“And you must be Valentina.” Harold peers at me.

“Hi.” I wave again.

“You look much smarter than Avery,” Grandma admits.

Cohen snorts.

“She is,” Raia agrees. “She also likes to bird-watch.”

“Oh!” Grandma’s eyes glitter. “Then we’ll get along famously. Tell me, dear, are your parents okay without a priest being present?”

“I…uh…well—” I stutter.

“We’re sharing the good news with you first,” Avery explains.

“We were the trial run?” Arlene wrinkles her nose.

“How’s it looking?” Harold asks Raia.

“Jury’s still out,” Cohen replies for her.

“You know, you could have said something at Raia and Cohen’s engagement party over the weekend,” Grandma continues. “I mean, I didn’t even get a chance to meet you there, Valentina. And I met a lot of people, I did. I like that one bloke—what’s his name?” She shuffles slightly toward Harold.

“Gage,” he supplies.

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