Page 23 of Always a Roommate
She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “My friend Gelda’s grandson says it. I’m trying it on. Didn’t fit me?”
“Definitely not.”
“Well, that’s just craptastic.”
“Not that one either.”
She huffed. “Fine, if you’re going to be such a stick-in-the-mud, I’ll tell you what I really think. If you like it, then you should put a ring on it.”
I choked on a laugh. “What?” She couldn’t possibly be talking about whom I thought she was.
“Honey, do I need to speak slower so you’ll understand me?”
“Just speak English instead of teenager.”
A wicked gleam shone in her eyes. “I love Rae.”
“Good for you.”
“I want her to be my granddaughter.”
Now, she was just being ridiculous. “Then, tell Tanner or Johnny to marry her.”
“Tanner is spoken for.” That was news to me. “He just doesn’t know it. And Johnny… you really think I’d tie Rae to a drug dealer?”
“Johnny isn’t a drug dealer.” At least, I hoped not.
“Prostitute?”
I shook my head.
“Assassin.”
“Yes.”
“Really?” she asked, her face lighting up.
“I don’t know, Grams.”
She sighed as if Johnny’s mysterious occupation was a burden on her. “Well, I expect one of you to realize Rae is perfect for this family. I just figured it would be you since you live together.”
“You read too many romance novels.”
She looked at me like I’d just said the sky is red. “There is no such thing, kid. One day, you’ll realize romance is a beautiful thing.”
Not for me. It had been nothing but a destroyer. But I didn’t say that. I couldn’t have anyone in my family knowing just how much Diana had hurt me. Seeing her at school today was still too fresh, too raw. Normally, she stayed in her hall, never venturing near me. But this morning…
“I’m going to find Mom.” I headed out into the hall, with Grams’s romantic ideas rolling through my head. What did she see in Rae that I didn’t? How could my entire family fall in love with her?
I found my mom in the kitchen, her favorite place in the house.
She looked up from where she was cutting vegetables on the marble countertop. “Grams all settled in?”
I nodded and pulled myself onto one of the stools at the counter, stealing a piece of celery. “Making soup?”
She nodded. “And biscuits. Your grandmother could use some home cooking.” Mom thought everything could be solved with a good meal. “Are you staying?”
“Probably not. I have a mile-high stack of papers to grade. Tell me, why did I become a teacher again?”
