Page 89 of The Grump I Loathe
Was it Grace?
Or maybe his mother?
I found myself worrying over the content of the call, wanting to help regardless of how wretched he’d made me feel these past few days.But before I could even bring myself to open the door and ask, he’d jumped up, thrown the door wide, and shoved past me.
“Connor!” I called, loud enough that he couldn’t ignore me.
He whirled around. His eyes were cold and aloof and so unlike the warm brown gaze I’d grown used to. “What is it?” he growled.
“We need to talk,” I insisted. “About what happened. About…us.”
He shook his head. “We don’t need to talk about anything. There is no us anymore.”
I darted after him, reached for him. “You don’t really mean that.”
He stepped away before I could catch his hand. “We’re done, Eddie. You said it yourself. And I don’t have time to dissect it with you. I have to catch a flight.”
28
CONNOR
“Not so fast!” Grace complained, out of breath as she jogged to keep up with me. I’d barreled off the jet the moment it set down in Italy, Grace’s wrist clutched in one hand and my phone clutched in the other as I raced through the airport.
“Sorry,” I muttered, readjusting my grip on her hand, slowing slightly as I realized I’d been dragging her along.
She glanced up at me, worried. “Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?”
“Because everything is fine,” I said. “Just like I told you on the plane.”
“Dad.” She huffed. “I know something isn’t right. You can tell me.”
Tell her what exactly? That X had called to tell me Mom had seen a man wearing an emerald-green trilby in a nearby market and was probably about two seconds from going off the deep end? Yeah, I wasn’t going to unpack that old trauma with Grace.
That damn hat had been the only thing my father had left behind when he’d run out on us, and the sight of a similar hat had always been enough to set off amajordepressive episode. Those three words—emerald-green trilby—had been all I’d needed to hear before getting on the jet. “There’s nothing to tell you,” I insisted. “We’re visiting Grandma. That’s all.”
“You’re lying,” Grace said, annoyed.
“I’m not.”
“You blink a lot when you lie.”
Did I? Whatever. I didn’t have time to worry about that now.
“There’s our ride,” I said, tugging at my tie. The weather was unseasonably hot for October in Italy. I walked over to the driver and helped Grace into the back seat of the black SUV, sliding in beside her. “Put your seatbelt on.”
Grace yawned. “You think Grandma wants to see pictures from the wedding?”
Personally, I didn’t think Mom would be in the right headspace for that, not to mention that I didn’t particularly feel like reliving that night. “I think Grandma’s going to be a little busy,” I said diplomatically. “You’re going to hang out with X’s housekeeper when we get there.”
The last thing I needed was Grace seeing her grandmother in this state. It changed your perception of the world, watching the adults in your life fall apart, and I wanted to preserve a sense of stability for Grace a little while longer. “She’s just going to keep an eye on you while I deal with a few things.”
“Aw, but Da?—”
“Don’t argue,” I said, my words clipped. Grace quieted, sensing that now was not the time to push me, and pulled out her Nintendo Switch for the duration of the car ride. My phone finally connected to the roaming network, and suddenly I was inundated with messages.
Thanks for taking the jet without telling us, Liam wrote, followed by twenty scowling emojis.Why the hell are you in Italy?
He’d obviously checked the flight logs. I hadn’t even stopped long enough to message my brothers.
