Page 253 of Wild Card

Time for her daily ‘check in on Willow’ call.

“Hey, Grandma,” I greet her with the most cheery voice possible.

“Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you sound like one of those robotic women on Wisteria Lane. Those women are always hiding secrets.”

God, I almost forgot about her newfound obsession withDesperate Housewives.

“I told Grandpa to cancel your Netflix membership.”

“He’d better not. He’s benefitting. Netflix and Chill is his favorite pastime.”

“Oh my God! Grandma, I do not need to hear this!”

“Willow, we’re old, not dead.”

“Stop, stop, stop, please… It’s not right to brutalize me this way.”

“Suit yourself. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing, today has been productive and thrilling.”

“Sarcasm isn’t cute.”

“I’m really okay. You shouldn’t worry about me every day. I told you things are better.”

“Something doesn’t feel right. I woke up this morning with a tic.”

Shit, her and her damn tics.

“You probably slept wrong.”

“That, or you or Chase are hiding something.”

“It’s Chase, he’s the culprit. He’s got the track record for sneakiness.” I throw my brother right under the bus.

“Nothing sneaky with him. It’s you.”

“Maybe it’s just a tic.”

“Come over for dinner, let me see you. We’ll make barbeque sliders.”

My stomach protests at the thought of barbeque. The pea-sized human in my uterus dictates most of my appetite lately, and apparently, barbeque sliders aren’t appealing.

Think quick, Willow!Stalling gives this woman more ammunition.

“Actually, I’m headed over to Dad’s. He’s been working a lot and I thought I’d make him dinner.”

Good alibi. Going to Dad’s is the perfect escape. He’ll be at work for a few more hours and no chance of running into anyone.

“That’s thoughtful of you, sweet girl. But your dad shops less than you. Likely there are no groceries in the kitchen.”

“Well then, I’ll stock his fridge.”

“You sure you don’t want to re-route and come here?”

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