Page 88 of Hate Me Like You Mean It
“Of course it’s not,” my grandfather barked as though he’d never heard anything quite so idiotic come out of anyone’s mouth. “She’s too good for you and smart enough to know it.”
I smirked and held out my palm. Up high, down low.
“And you.” He pointed at me with that same hand. “Don’t think you’re getting off that easy. Regardless of what you two have been up to, this—this image right here—him sneaking around your apartment would’ve earned Adrien an instant twenty to life. Which reminds me,” Gampy said before giving Dom another good, hearty whack on the shin. “That’sfor my grandson.”
That particular blow hit hard enough to make Dominic wince, and as much as he might have deserved it, it made my gut twist.
“I think he gets it.” My leg shot out to shield his. “Stop hitting him, please.”
Dominic threw me a surprised glance. Gampy, meanwhile, turned a raging shade of crimson and glared daggers at Dominic like my actions were directly his fault. Then, through gritted dentures, “Alice, a moment?”
Maxwell snuggled closer to my head when I moved to get up, threatening me with a single beady-eyed look and a fluffed-up neck.
“Chill,” I muttered when he nipped at my ear. “You can come.”
He bopped on Dom’s shoulder, chirping his complaints about the group breaking up.
I clicked my tongue. “Maxi want a raspberry treat?”
It took a few seconds, but the bribe worked.
Gampy trudged toward the front door while I snagged a raspberry out of my fridge. “Before I forget, this is yours.” He pushed a cardboard box into the doorway with the end of his cane. “Bunch of old trash you left behind. I had a feeling you’d come outta the woodwork when Alice became harder to reach and tossed ‘em all in a box for you.”
Dom frowned. “Why didn’t you just throw them out?”
“Do I look like your maid?” Gampy snapped, his raging forehead vein resurfacing. “Throw them out yourself. And get the hell out while you’re at it! We can talk when you’re ready to apologize.”
Unfortunately for everyone involved, Maxwell wasn’t having any of it. As soon as Dominic got up to leave, he gave a loudsquawkand fluffed up. This, of course, infuriated Gampy to no end. In the twenty-odd years I’d been acquainted with my grandfather, I’d never seen him rage like this. It would’ve been somewhat amusing if I weren’t worried about his blood pressure.
“Wait for a second, just so he doesn’t see,” I instructed Dom while herding my fuming grandfather into the guest bedroom he’d flipped upside down. “Hey, so, can we slow down for a second and take a couple of really deep breaths?”
Gampy’s hand twisted over the curved handle of his cane, his mustache twitching. He whipped off his glasses and dabbed at his watering eyes with a handkerchief he’d fished out of his back pocket.
It was a stab to the chest.
“Stubborn, hardheaded brat,” he grumbled. This time, though, it was hard to miss the tilt of affection in his tone. “After all this time.”
Maxwell’s neck had stretched to a comical degree, and as soon as Gampy was done dabbing at his eyes, he flew off my shoulder. “Oh, I’m fine, I’m fine. Don’t make a fuss.”
“Good boy want a mango treat?” He tapped Gampy’s cheek with his beak and withdrew dramatically with an elongated “MWAAAH.”
And okay, yeah, it was super cute—earned him a watery smile from Gampy and everything.
I leaned against the door and crossed my arms, not sure what to say. This was one reason I didn’t want my family to find out.Some wounds stayed open and raw regardless of how much time passed. They simply ran too deep.
Maxwell continued to fuss and coo while Gampy gathered himself. It took a handful of minutes before he slipped his glasses back on. Then, “You want to tell me what’s really going on?”
I chewed the inside of my cheek, thinking about my answer. “No. But I also don’t want to lie to you, so… why don’t you ask me something else, and I’ll answer that instead.”
He nodded again, scratching that one sweet spot on Maxwell’s neck. “How about a favor, then?” When I shrugged for him to go on, he said, “If you decide to forgive him when the time comes, extend that same generosity to me, won’t you?”
Out of all the things I’d expected him to say, that was dead last. “What?”
He straightened his glasses. “He wouldn’t listen, would he? When you tried to explain.”
My heart gave a warning thud, then went into complete overdrive. “What did you do?”
“Nothing.” He stuffed his handkerchief back into his pocket, the picture of innocence. “Like I said, I just gave him his stuff back.”
