Frenemies

“If they do it again, I’ll leave them to it. Immy’s grandma always has good cake.”

“She mentioned something about that, too. Any ideas? I feel like I should know.”

I snorted. “She’s going to get samples for the wedding cake from Immy’s grandma so your mom can’t be involved.”

“Do I have to do anything?”

“Act like you didn’t know, I’m guessing. Which won’t be hard.”

Matt laughed and raised his half-empty beer bottle. “I’ll drink to that.”

We clinked bottles.

“So are you bringing Immy to the wedding?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

I laughed and shook my head. “That’s a year away unless Fran has a fit and makes you elope.”

“It’s becoming more likely by the day, my friend. And you’ll be coming on the elopement.”

“That is my dream, to be part of the elopement of my ex, the mother of my child, and her new fiancé,” I replied simply. “I can’t tell you how excited I am for the inevitable day she does that.”

“Why do you think I haven’t paid the deposit on the venue yet? There are thirty days until it’s due. All I need is one more dinner with my mother, and it’s all over. Elopement and a party.”

“I’ll make sure I’m on standby with an elopement bag packed.”

“Fran will appreciate your sacrifice.”

“The only thing she’ll appreciate is you going to tell your mother where to stuff her wedding planner.”

“That, too.” He shook his head. “I keep trying. She won’t listen. Why do you think I’m excited about the elopement?”

“What’s eloping?” Maya asked.

“A type of dance,” I said quickly. “I’ll show you this weekend.”

This answer seemed to satisfy her, and she went back to her ice cream.

“Smooth.” Matt nodded slowly. “Anyway. I’ll make sure she puts a plus one on your invitation.”

“Your mistake is assuming that she would send one without one,” I replied, then finished my beer. “Anyway—I need to stop by the pet store for some food for Dolly.”

Maya’s eyes lit up. “Can I see her?”

Matt shook his head. “Not today. You’ll see her this weekend, remember?”

“Oh.”

“Why don’t we call before bed?” he offered instead. “I’m sure Dad won’t mind.”

“I’ll call you,” I promised, putting some money on the table. I got up and kissed her cheek. “She’s going to need her dinner and a run around the backyard, so when she’s done, you’ll be in your pajamas ready, okay?”

Maya thought about it for a moment before she sighed heavily. “I suppose.”

I laughed and hugged her tightly. After saying my goodbyes and reiterating my promise to call her later, I headed out to my car and drove to the vet. Dolly was her usual bouncy self, so I paid the rest of the bill—somehow without wincing—and took her home.

Immy’s car wasn’t in the driveway, but the curtains twitched as I pulled into mine.

I could expect a visitor, then.

I acted like I didn’t know Jen was spying on me. I’d bet she’d been there for hours waiting for me to get home to come and quiz me about last night.

I carried Dolly into the house and set her down in the living room. She’d only been fed an hour ago, so when she went to the patio doors, I opened one to let her into the back yard.

No sooner had I stepped foot inside the house than there was a knock at my front door.

“Come in, Jen!” I shouted.

The door swung open, and the sound of grumbling reached me. “Can’t even get the door for an old lady.”

“You’ve been waiting for me to get home. You can get your own door.”

“The disrespect.”

I chuckled. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

“Can I have whiskey?”

“No.”

“Then no,” she said with a sigh. “You’re home late.”

“Yes, ma’am. I had dinner with Maya and her stepdad, then had to collect Dolly from the vets.”

Jen narrowed her eyes. “With your ex’s future husband?”

“Is it really that strange? We had business to discuss.”

“Like dating my granddaughter?”

“No. Actual business. An employee is suing them for unfair dismissal, and I’m their attorney.”

“Don’t they have their own attorneys?”

“They do, but they hired me.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m better than their attorneys,” I said simply. “Next question?”

“You’ve got sass. I like that. Where’s the frou-frou fucker dog?”

“She’ll be taking a shit on your rose bushes if you don’t use her name.”

“Hey!” Jen pointed one finger at me. “If she shits on my rose bushes, I’m shoving my cane so far up her ass she’ll never be able to shit again. And I’ll have a glass of that wine my hussy of a granddaughter left here last night.”

I didn’t argue that time. I went to the fridge, poured a small glass, and took it into the living room where she’d made herself at home on the sofa with her feet on my coffee table.

Honestly, the woman couldn’t be more than five-foot-three, but she was like a human hurricane. When she stopped by, you listened.