Page 70 of Sidelined By Love

“I sort of cancelled our date.”

“You cancelled a date with Red?” She whistles long and low. “I didn’t think any granddaughter of mine would be foolish enough to do that. What happened?”

Great. Now I’ve opened a can of worms with Nan. I was in bed before she got home last night, and I haven’t told her about the movie. Or about Cyndi dropping me. Or any of the buildup to the part that stings the most.

Maybe I can just skip over all that. “I texted him that I wasn’t going to make it, but I guess he missed it because when he got here—”

“Uh-uh.Whydid you cancel on him?”

I scrape my knife against the wooden cutting board, sending the colorful pepper pieces into the melting butter as Nan stirs it with a wooden spoon. “I had a rough day, and I wasn’t ready to face the world.”

“No new tabloid headlines.”

It’s not a question, but I shake my head to confirm anyway.

“Did that rat Knight Burkhardt decide not to give you a real audition?”

“It wasn’t his fault.” I have no idea why I’m defending the man who isn’t willing to put his neck on the line for me.

“Did he try to convince you of that?” Nan pours the eggs into the skillet, and they crackle against the greased bottom. She stirs them like they need another beating, so I pluck the spoon from her fingers and take a gentler approach.

“I didn’t talk with him.”

“Cyndi called you.”

I nod.

“And she said . . .”

I swallow, expecting to feel a resistant lump in my throat. But it’s not there. In fact, talking about losing my agent feels a whole lot easier than talking about Grant. About losing Grant.

The very idea ties a cord around my lungs. Breathing is no longer innate. Every inhale a struggle.

“What did she say?” Nan asks again.

“The producers think I’m too risky. So does Cyndi. She’s dropping me. At least for now.”

Nan grumbles under her breath then spits out, “Sounds like something an incompetent fool would say. Stringing you alongfor now. You know I still know people in the biz.”

I press my hand to her shoulder, holding her in place and forcing her to look my way. “I’m all right. I’m coming to terms with it.”

“Well, let your old grandma tell them what ridiculous fools they’re being.”

I smile because this is why I love her. “Please don’t. You don’t need to step in.”

“Need . . . want . . . there’s a difference,” she mumbles as she turns her back to load the aqua-colored toaster with a plain bagel.

“Don’t you want to know what happened with Grant?” I want to bite my own tongue off for moving us back in his direction.

She shoots me a stink eye, fully aware that I’m trying to change the subject and steer her away from dipping her toe back into the cesspool that is certain parts of Hollywood.

“Very well. What happened with Grant?”

“I, um . . .” I don’t want to rehash the mess that I made, and I sure don’t want to fess up to telling him I still want to be friends. Undoubtedly the lamest line ever.

“We were . . . he was holding me.”

Nan’s smile turns knowing. “Uh-huh.”

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