Page 9 of Surprise! I'm Engaged To My Boss
My grandma was seventy-five but had way more physical energy than I did. Still, she looked exactly like the sweet old ladies from fairytales — short white hair, chubby rosy cheeks, reading glasses, petite frame, and that warm, loving gaze. In terms of personality, though, she didn’t exactly fit the stereotype. She wasn’t a brilliant cook — we were constantly ordering takeout — and she had zero interest in knitting, crocheting, or any kind of crafts. Her true passion was literature. A passion she passed down to my mother… and eventually, to me.
But as much as the bookstore was my grandmother’s life, she knew I had other career plans. My father was an architect, and my dream was always to go far in that job. I felt that, somewhere, he would be very proud of me.
Just like my grandmother was now, unaware that things hadn't turned out exactly as she and I had anticipated.
I needed to tell her the truth. However, when I looked into those hopeful eyes, I fell apart inside. I had already been so disappointed that last night. But disappointing my grandmother, the woman who had raised me since I was eight years old – when my parents died in a car accident – and the person I loved most in the world was too painful for me.
At least for that moment I didn't want to go through that again.
The sound of breaking glass caught our attention, and I almost thanked him when I turned around and saw that Waffle had climbed onto the sink and knocked a glass onto the floor.
“What a naughty boy!” my grandmother 'scolded' him, in that way of hers that seemed like anything but a scolding, and stood up, going over to the broken glass and threatening to bend down to pick it up. I stopped her.
“No, grandma, let me take care of this. Isn't it time to open the bookstore?”
“Okay, honey. But tonight, you tell me all about your promotion announcement, okay?”
“Okay,” I replied, forcing a smile and bending down to receive a kiss on my cheek.
I hoped that my shower and the number of times I brushed my teeth had been enough to somewhat disguise the smell of alcohol emanating from my being.
Everything is okay...
I was such a fucking fake. I couldn't lie to my grandmother.
But I couldn't disappoint her like that either.
We had both dreamed so much about that promotion. Even though she refused at first, I promised her that with the extra money from my salary I would save it to help her with her bookstore, which was facing serious financial problems.
That bookstore, which she and my mother had opened before I was even born, was too important to her. And to me too. We couldn't allow it to close its doors.
Pulling her lips away from my cheek, she took my hand and let out a comment that left me somewhat confused.
“Wow, what a beautiful ring. It’s so your mom’s style.”
Ring?
I looked at the ring finger on my right hand, finally understanding the part about how it was so my mom’s style. It was a handmade ring, crafted with tiny colorful beads. My mom had always loved arts and crafts, and something made of beads was exactly her kind of thing.
Definitely not mine.
“Oh... I bought it at a stand at the party...” I commented. I remembered a stand full of jewelry in that style, but I really couldn't remember buying anything there.
Especially a ring that was definitely not my style.
Well, it had to be that, right? How else would that ring have ended up on my finger if I hadn't bought it?
Grandma repeated once more that he was beautiful and turned her back, leaving. I then began to pick up the broken glass from the floor, while I forced my memory to remember that purchase.
I froze suddenly, as I finally remembered.
Chapter Four
CAMILA
“I think we should have sex,” he said, after who knows how long we had been getting drunk together.
“I won't sleep with you, we’ve just met,” I replied, showing that, at that point, I still had some semblance of lucidity and judgment in me.
