Page 26 of Nine Months to Love
“Shit.” I grab it and shove it under one of the throw pillows on the window seat before I remember the door is locked. “Go away, Stefan! I have nothing to say to you.”
“What about Stefan’s grandmother?” Elena’s voice drifts through the door, frail and sweet. “Will you open the door for an old woman?”
Is she faking that weak voice? Because when I open the door, she looks sharp and nimble as ever.
“Elena, I’m exhausted.”
“I can see that. You look awful.”
“Gee, thanks.”
She pushes past me into the room. “I understand you’re angry with my grandson. I have no doubt he deserves it. But would you paint me with the same brush?”
Of course, she heads straight for the window seat. I try not to focus on the guilty cushion hiding the journal. I close the door and follow her.
“That’s not what I’m doing.”
“I thought we were friends, Olivia.”
“We are.”
“Good. Because I hope you know I’m on your side.”
She sits down and I see an edge of the journal peeking out from behind her. Don’t I have the greatest fucking luck?
“That’s nice of you to say.” I try to ignore the journal inches from Elena’s back. “Even if it isn’t true.”
“It is true. Especially now that you’re carrying my great-grandchild.”
I bite my lip and pull my legs up onto the seat, wrapping my arms around them. “Are you here to guilt me into talking to Stefan? Because that’s not going to happen. I may be pregnant, but I don’t owe him anything.”
“I’d appreciate it if you stopped talking to me like I’m the enemy. I didn’t conspire with my grandson against you. I would never condone his behavior toward you.”
I raise my eyebrows. “What do you know about his behavior toward me?”
“More than you think.” Elena lays her hand against the windowpane. I wonder if she can feel the journal digging into her back. For now, she seems oblivious. Surely she’d recognize it if she saw it—it belonged to her son. “Everyone thinks that, just because I’m old, I can’t hear.”
I smile. “I’d never make that mistake.”
“One of the many reasons I like you.” Elena winks at me. “But there is one thing I’ve heard that I don’t want to believe. Is it true? Is Natalia alive?”
I nod once.
Elena lets out a painful exhale, her eyes fluttering closed for a few seconds. “My God.”
“How does that make you feel?” I ask, feeling like the world’s worst therapist phoning it in.
“Like we’re on shaky ground again.” Elena’s misty blue eyes find mine. “How did she seem to you?”
I have no clue what she’s actually asking. “She treated me well. She actually seemed pretty nice.”
Elena doesn’t react with the same fury Stefan did. She just nods, looking away. “She was always talented that way. She could make the hardest people like her. Make the biggest cynics trust her. Make even the most confirmed bachelor love her. I should know: She made both my sons fall in love with her.”
It isn’t until Elena says it that I remember Stefan’s father wasn’t her only child. “Your youngest son died in the same fire that everyone thought killed Natalia, too.”
Elena raises an eyebrow. “Is there a question in there somewhere?”
“I suppose I was wondering...” What I’m really wondering is how the hell do you ask a woman if she knows her grandson murdered her son?
