Page 26 of The Love Penalty

Elizabeth, AKA Grams, as Olivia calls her, has both hands on her hips and her eyes narrowed at me. She doesn’t take the flowers and doesn’t say anything, so I nervously look at Olivia with a look ofoh shit, what did I do wronganddear God please help me out of it.Olivia’s eyes widen and she gives me a small shrug all but saying,I don’t know either.

But then, Grams starts laughing. Uncontrollably. And there are tears in her eyes as she wheezes, “I’m just messing with you, honey.”

We both laugh along, but I’m still a little worried. My shoulders relax more when she takes the flowers from my hands and pats my chest affectionately. “Olivia said you like to joke around so I wanted to see what you’re all about.”

“Did I pass the test?” I say.

“We’ll see,” she hums as she turns and leads us inside. The townhouse is just as bright on the inside as it is on the outside. Grams must be a huge fan of the color pink, because it’s everywhere. The walls are pink, the flowers on the entry table are also a dark shade of pink, and even the fridge is a pastel pink.

“These are for you as well,” I say and place the donuts on the kitchen island.

She saunters over and opens the box and her eyes light up again when she realizes they’re her favorite donuts. “Mmm, yes. Definitely passed the test now,” she says and reaches for a sprinkle donut and takes a big bite of it.

“Grams, can you please not start with the dessert?” Olivia chides her and Grams rolls her eyes.

She elbows me in the side to grab my attention and says, “Will you get my granddaughter to stop being such a hardass? I swear sometimes she doesn’t know how to have fun.”

Olivia doesn’t hear this as she takes it upon herself to look through cupboards and pull out plates and silverware to set the table. I keep my eyes on her the whole time but tell Grams, “I don’t think she’s a hardass. I think she’s perseverant, and smart, and I think she knows how to have fun with the people that matter to her.”

When I don’t get a reply, I look down at the adorable old lady, with chocolate and sprinkles on her face. I try my best to smother a smile at her appearance, but she takes me by surprise as she says, “Take care of her, will you? Lord knows she’s been through so much, and not many people have cared for her like they should have.”

My heart constricts and for a moment I am angry again, because how could anyone not love her like she deserves to be loved? Fiercely and unconditionally.

I swallow down and say, “I will, I promise.” She searches my face for a moment, then nods and springs away to check on the casserole.

I feel Olivia coming up behind me and I give her a smile, telling her I’m doing great so she doesn’t worry. I help Grams with the bacon and eggs and the three of us have brunch together. Grams of course pulled out orange juice and champagne to make mimosas. While Olivia stopped after one since she’s driving, Grams and I are now on our third.

She’s been telling lots of stories of Olivia as a kid and I’ve been absorbing it all with rapt interest. “Would you like to see some baby pictures?” Grams says excitedly.

“Grams, noo,” Olivia groans as I say, “I am not leaving here until I do.”

“Robbie, why?” she says as Grams heads to another room to look for the album.

“I need to see them,Olive. It’s a must,” I say, leaning into her a bit. When I look at her face, I realize she’s not smiling. She seems detached. “Hey, where’d you go just now?”

She looks at me and blinks away some tears. Shit. What did I say? “Sorry, nothing. Nowhere, I’m good.”

She’s not good. My hand touches her right knee to stall her bouncing and this time I ask more gently. “Did I say something wrong? Is it the pictures? We don’t have to look at them if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s not that,” she says softly, “It's just—my dad was the only one to call me Olive. I don’t really like nicknames, but I loved it when he called me that.” Her shoulders slump and this time a tear escapes her and rolls down her cheek. Before I can second guess myself, I cup her face and wipe her tear away, thengive her a bear hug. She sighs in the crook of my neck and I hug her even tighter.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I won’t do it again,” I say.

She shrugs in my arms and bunches my sweater in her fists. “I didn’t hate it, I was just caught by surprise. You can call me that, if you want.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to make you cry any more than I have,” I say with a smile.

She chuckles lightly, “I’m sure. But this just means I get to come up with a nickname for you.”

I groan. “Oh, please no. I’ve had so many over the years and they are all terrible.”

“That’s the deal. Take it or leave it,” she says pausing for effect, “Bob.”

“Ugh, no.”

“Bobby?”

“No.”

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