Page 133 of You're so Bad

I’ll come in a suit, smartass, but I won’t like it.

There’s the Grandpa Fruckface I know and love.

What?

Long story.

It’s Friday night. I told Bianca I’d go to the wedding, but I wasn’t, under any circumstances, taking part in the rehearsal dinner or the five-hour prep she’d scheduled for us for tomorrow morning. I figured I was giving her an out she’d take, but she surprised me by agreeing. I guess she’s really looking forward to the half-baked, bullshit on toast wedding speech I cobbled together with Mira and Delia at the bar last night.

I haven’t read it through.

I don’t care to.

I haven’t heard from Leonard since I left him at Mrs. Ruiz’s house on Wednesday, but Delia told me he’s been staying with Burke and Danny. I’m glad. I don’t want him to be alone. I want him to be withme, but he’s not ready. Maybe he’ll never be ready.

My heart feels like it’s been torn out and electrocuted, but I also feel a strange sense of clarity. I love him. Maybe my love isn’t enough to help him out of this hole, but combined with his friends’ love? Nana’s love?

Maybe it’ll be enough, someday.

He thinks he’ll end up doing jail time for this, but he’s wrong.

Shane’s theory about the police report panned out. The officer who spoke with Leonard about the truck didn’t file the paperwork. But Shane was able to use Leonard’s phone records to narrow down which officer had taken his report. The guy actually admitted to flubbing the report, so now they know Leonard reported the car stolen before any of the robberies took place.

It hasn’t happened yet, but they’re going to drop the charges. Shane seems certain of it, and he doesn’t come off as someone who sugarcoats things.

It remains to be seen whether the Burkes will pay for this, but I choose to believe they will. They figured Leonard would be easy to mess with because of his background, but they didn’t realize how many people love him.

“You’re sure you want to go?” my grandmother asks me from her rocking chair for what has to be the thirtieth time. “And withhim? We should do something fun on your birthday. We could go horseback riding, or drive to Carowinds, or get drunk on those terrible wines at the Biltmore.”

I sigh and eat a heaping spoonful of ice cream. Thosedosound like better options than attending Bianca and Colter’s wedding.

I’ve already committed though, and technically we’re celebrating my birthday tonight. My grandmother asked me what I wanted to do, and I told her the truth. Well, almost the truth. What I want is to be with Leonard, but I can’t have him right now, so I figured I’d settle for watchingTime to Settle Downand gorging myself on cake and ice cream. Delia’s with us, and so is Reese. He told us with a straight face that he couldn’t think of anything he’d prefer to do with his Friday night, although I suspect that’s because he knew Delia was coming. I think he’s got a crush on her, because I caught him sketching a red-headed mermaid the other night, and when I said she looked like Delia, he blushed and said it wasThe Little Mermaid.

I wish I could tell Leonard that.

“You’re the one who told me to reach out to Grandpa Frank,” I tell my grandmother with a sigh. Then I wave my spoon at the male contestant with the million-dollar teeth. “You think they specifically looked for someone stupid?”

“They must have,” Reese mutters. Maybe he’s regretting his enthusiasm about spending the evening with us. Bean is sitting on one of his shoulders, and Bertie’s curled up in his lap. Before I turned the show on, he told Delia, who’s sitting between us on the couch, that Bean would let Delia pet her as long as she was on his shoulder.

He’s using Leonard’s moves, trying to manipulate women with cute animals.

A sigh escapes me, and Delia pats my leg.

“Reach out to him, sure,” Nana says. “Go to the wedding of a woman who hates you with him? No, I don’t think I said that.”

“Bianca doesn’t hate her, Constance,” Delia says. “I think she’s just confused…and emotionally…”

“Fucked up?” I offer.

Nana hoots. “There’s a lot of that going around lately.”

“Hey, I get to swear in the house now that I’m eighteen, right?” Reese asks. “You said so.”

“Yes,” Nana tells him, “You can be as foul-mouthed as the rest of us. Congratulations.”

I pause the stupid dating show, because none of us are actually watching it.

“Look, Nana,” I say, “I figured it would be a good olive branch between me and Grandpa Frank. And I didn’t want to bring Rafe because I think there’s a very real chance he’d deck Champ—I mean Colter—in the other eye if I did.”

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