Page 59 of The Alpha Escort Agency
“You never told me this before.”
“Of course not,” she says, pulling her hand away. “Didn’t want you getting any ideas. Didn’t want you thinking your nan was a hussy.”
“I’d never think that.”
“‘Course not.” She winks and pats his cheek. “So come on. Tell me. What’s so complicated?”
“It’s money.” To her credit, her face remains neutral. She waits for him to say more. He swallows. “Nan, I’m not making my money from selling photos.”
“Of course not, dear.”
He stares at her, his mouth falling open.
She knows. He can’t believe it.
“And she doesn’t approve of how you do make your money?” she says, then adds, “I don't want to know about that, Rory, it’s your business. You’re a grown man and I trust you are not doing anything you shouldn't.”
He feels his cheeks redden, like they would when he’d walk into his bedroom and find his dirty magazines piled neatly on his bed.
“Yes, that’s right. She doesn’t approve.”
“And that’s caused an argument.”
“No.” He tugs at the bedspread, smoothing out a crease. “She’s right. It’s something that, if I want to be with her, I need to stop.”
“So why don’t you?”
“I need to earn money, Nan.”
“You’ll find something else.”
He shakes his head, his palm damp. He wipes it on the seat of his jeans. He doesn’t want to tell his nan. He doesn’t want her feeling bad.
She reaches forward and pinches his chin between her finger and thumb, forcing him to meet her eye. “You men.” She rolls her eyes. “Do you think I was born yesterday or something? Honestly.”
He quirks an eyebrow.
“Don’t act dumb, young man. It’s these carers, isn’t it? Your grandad tried to tell me the council’s been sending them. But I’m not blind. Don’t you think I can see they’re from some private agency? It’s costing you a fortune, isn’t it?”
“It doesn’t matter, Nan,” he mumbles.
He tries to turn his head away from her gaze, but she holds it tight, peering straight into his eyes with her deep brown ones. “Do you love her, Rory? This girl.”
He closes his eyes. What does he answer?
Does he love her? Yes, he thinks he does; he thinks he was beginning to.
Because since he’d told her it was over, he’s felt like the world has lost its colour. The sun, the sky, the earth — all of it has been a dull, colourless grey. Even the smells and aromas have been muted and bland. His limbs have felt heavy, his movements laboured. He’s been trudging through a thick fog that’s sucked away all light, all smell, all sound, and it’s felt a struggle to move at all.
It’s familiar and yet worse. Somehow worse than when Joanna had left because with that had come relief, the weight of expectation, the burden of her demands, lifting, freeing him. He hadn’t known how trapped he’d been by her need for him to be someone and do something until she’d left. Until she’d found someone who could give her all those things.
But this is worse. Yes, Alice had asked something from him too, but her request had been reasonable. She was correct. He can’t keep doing this job and have anything that resembles a normal relationship — certainly not long term. And so this pain lodged deep inside his chest hurts so so much more than it ever has done before.
“Yes,” he says, his voice catching in his throat.
“Well, then, here’s what we’re going to do.” His nan has a firm grip of his chin. Even now, as frail and vulnerable as she is, she’s going to take control, wrestle the situation under her control. “I’ve got my mum’s jewellery in a box under the bed. Some of it belonged to my nan. Her old rings and earrings and brooches. She had an eye for a bargain; used to trawl through the second-hand markets adding to her collection. I’ve never worn any of it — far too old-fashioned for me. We’re going to sell them, and that will pay for these carers. I got them valued once, a few years back. They’re worth a pretty penny, I tell you.”
“No, Nan. You can’t sell those things.” He shakes his head violently and she grips his chin tighter.
