Frenemies

I was two seconds away from saying goodbye when a black Mazda 3 pulled into the driveway. There was a dent on the driver’s side wheel arch that I could see from my position on the porch, and I swear to fucking God, I felt Immy’s glare the moment she realized I was here.

She killed the engine and climbed out of the car. I wasn’t sure I was quite over the sight of how fucking gorgeous she was now, even if she did have a huge streak of red down her left cheek.

Her blonde hair was pulled into a messy ponytail that swung around her shoulders as she stalked toward me, and her blue eyes darkened with every twitch of her narrowing eyelids. “Can we help you?”

“He was walking me home, you rude little hippy,” Jen said, putting her hands on her lips. “Is that how we treat people in this house?”

Immy’s nostrils flared as she shot her grandmother a dark look and turned back to me with a saccharinely sweet smile on her lips. “Hello, Mason. Thanks ever so much for walking my grandma home.”

I fought my own broad grin. “Hey, Immy. How are you?”

“I’ve been better,” she replied tightly. “Yourself?”

“Not bad. I’ve got some sweet tea from your grandma.”

“She makes the best sweet tea.” She softened ever so slightly. “Where’s your daughter?”

“With her mom. I have her this weekend.”

“He’s not married to Francesca, and she’s engaged to someone else anyway,” Jen said, stepping aside. “I’ll tell you everything else you need to know when you get in here and put my chicken in the oven.”

“Have I ever told you that you’re incredibly rude?” Immy asked.

“Yes,” her grandma replied, looking straight at her. “When have I ever responded in a way that makes you think I give a damn?”

I choked back a laugh. Living in their house must be a rollercoaster.

Immy pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’ll put the chicken in the oven if you turn it on.”

“Seems fair.” Jen turned around and reached over to pat my cheek. “Good talk, Masey baby. Let me know how that tea turns out.” She turned and tugged the front door shut behind her.

“Did she just call me ‘Masey baby?’” I looked at Immy.

She pushed her hair behind her ear and grimaced, staring at the front door. “Yeah. Ignore her. She’s a weirdo. Why was she at your place making tea?”

“Why? You jealous?”

“As jealous as I’d be if you’d given her the plague,” she replied wryly.

“She came by with muffins and invited herself in before taking command of my stove and making sweet tea. I didn’t really get a chance to say no.”

“Yeah, that sounds like her.” Immy sighed and ran her fingers through her hair before she realized it was in a ponytail and she couldn’t get it all the way through. “Sorry about her. She’s… well, she’s crazy.”

“She’s interesting,” I said slowly. “By the way, when she gives you a full rundown of my personal life, just know that she made me tell her.” I stepped back, holding my hands up. “Before you accuse me of something.”

Immy quirked a brow, raising it in a look that was one part amusement and, well, fifty parts derision. “Why would I accuse you of anything? I don’t care what you do with your love life, Mason.”

“I never suggested you did. I was merely saying.”

“Mm.”

“Mm? What does “mm” mean?”

“It means I’m done with this conversation. Goodbye.” She spun on the balls of her feet and stepped into the house, pausing when she crossed the threshold. She glanced back at me. “If she corrals you again, let me know. I’ll come and sort her out.”

“How can I let you know? I don’t have your number.”

“Huh. You’re right. Never mind, then.”

With a shrug, she shut the door.

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. She couldn’t make it more obvious if she tried—she wasn’t interested in so much as speaking to me, never mind anything else.

It sucked for her that her grandma apparently wanted us married.

And apparently, me, because while I figured there were worse women I could marry, Immy had me in the Devil Incarnate category of men.

I deserved it.

Kinda.

Not as much as she believed I would.

I stepped off the porch and headed back to my house, shaking my head in amusement at her. As much as I wanted to be mad at her, I couldn’t be. I did a shit thing when I didn’t call her after I’d graduated, and I could make a thousand excuses for why I didn’t, but it came down to one simple thing:

I didn’t call her.

She thought I would, and I didn’t.

We weren’t a one-time thing. We were “together” for a long time, exclusively, even if we never had an official relationship.

Her anger was completely justified.

And if I wanted to get her back on my side, to convince her that I wasn’t a young jerk caught up in his own self-importance anymore, I needed to figure out a way to do it.