Page 121 of Roommate's Guide to Love

“No!” I dramatically yell, throwing my head into the table, remembering a trick from middle school when I learned to fake my own tears to get out of gym class. “You can’t take her!”

“What’s her problem?”

“Her problem is that she loves Grace. And so do I,” Porter says as I fake cry into my arm. “She’s happy here, Bonnie. Really happy. We just want to give her a life, together. Can’t you understand that?”

I give Porter credit, he’s doing his best to play the sympathy card. Unfortunately, we’re realizing that Bonnie is a cold-hearted cunt.

“And I wouldn’t give her a good life?”

“I’m not saying that,” Porter says. Even though she wouldn’t. “I just…she’s finally adjusted here. And Missy wanted us to have her.”

“As I’ve said, Missy didn’t know what she wants, or what she had. There isn’t anything you can do or say that will make me leave town without my granddaughter.”

I smile into my arm before putting my sad face back on. “Nothing? Bonnie, please. There has to be something. We’ll do or give you just about anything to let us keep that little girl.”

If Plan B is going to work, this is the opening. And this has to be the time that Bonnie takes the bait.

“Anything, you say?”

“Yes,” Porter says with a deep sigh. “That’s how much we love her.”

Porter holds my hand tightly, both of our eyes begging Bonnie to say something, anything, that we could do.

In reality, there’s only one thing we want her to say.

“I want money.”

Bingo, bitch.

“Money? We just said we didn’t have money for the courts. Our lawyer is pro bono,” I say, fear laced in my voice. “How could we pay you?”

Her lip curls like she’s a Disney villain. “Sell the bar.”

God, I can lay a good fucking mouse trap…

Porter expertly plays up his shocked face. I rapidly bat my eyelashes like I’m trying to understand what she said.

“The bar?” Porter finally speaks up. “You want the bar?”

She laughs. “Absolutely not. If I had my way, I’d burn this place to the ground. But I think it’s only fair that if you want me to go away, the price is going to be high. I know how much this place is worth. So sell the bar. Give me the money. And I’m out of your life forever.”

I snap my head to Porter, hoping that I seem as devastated and worried as I’m trying to portray. Because on the inside? I’m fist pumping like it’s the two-thousands and I’m onJersey Shore.

Plan B is officially in full swing.

“Whoa,” Logan speaks up, right on cue. “It could take months to sell. Get it appraised. Actually find a buyer.”

“Exactly,” Bonnie says. “But I think you could get a half a million for it.”

“Mom. This is Rolling Hills. Who’s going to buy?—”

“Half a million, Porter. That’s my price. And I want it today. Or we go to court.”

“Hold up!” I shout. “Where do you think you’re going to find a half a million dollars?”

She shrugs. “Word around town is that your brother is pretty well off, Quinn. Maybe you can ask him for a loan. Or maybe he can buy it like the other buildings in town he has.”

Shit, I didn’t even think of that angle in the plan. But that actually really helps this story. Well done, Bonnie.

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