“You two haven’t known each other for very long,” she said.
Patrick nodded. “That’s true, ma’am. But your granddaughter is the best thing in my life right now. I’d be a fool to let her go.”
“Hmm.” She studied him over the top of her glasses. “According to the internet, you’re an accomplished actor, have a net worth of ninety million, and an unfortunate habit of sleeping with other men’s wives.”
My mouth opened and his hand squeezed again. For fuck’s sake.
“That was a mistake,” he said calmly. “It happened once. It will not happen again.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because I would never hurt or embarrass Norah that way.”
Gran raised her chin. “Pretty words, Patrick. You might mean them now, the early days of love are always passionate and exciting, but it’s the long term I’m interested in.”
“Ma’am?”
“Do you actually know the kind of person my granddaughter is?” she asked, drawing herself up tall. “When I had my accident and damaged my back, she dropped out of college and came home to look after me. All without being asked. There was no hesitation, no recriminations. Most of my money had gone toward paying off her mother’s medical bills. So Norah found a job. When that wasn’t enough, she found a second job. It soon became obvious that I’d need an assisted living situation. After all, she couldn’t work two jobs and look after me. The sale of my house covered some of the costs and Norah has been paying the rest ever since. That is the sort of person my granddaughter is. Giving and kind and selfless . . . even if she does have a smart mouth.”
Patrick looked at me with something close to awe. Which was both crazy and unnecessary.
“Are you done?” I asked.
“I knew your granddaughter was special,” said Patrick, completely ignoring me. “Now I know how special.”
I looked to heaven. This wasn’t wildly uncomfortable at all. “You looked after me when Mom died. It was my turn to look after you. That’s all.”
Gran looked at me.
“Can we please play a game of Scrabble and call it a day?” I asked. “I’ll even let you win this time.”
Gran sniffed. “As if you’ve ever managed to beat me.”
His hand continued to curve around my knee in an oddly proprietary manner.
“Patrick, you will treat her like the priceless jewel she is,” ordered Gran. “Am I understood?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
And I didn’t like this. I didn’t like that one day she would feel let down by Patrick because we would inevitably be staging a breakup. But there wasn’t a hell of a lot I could do about it right there and then. Not without breaking my contractual obligations. The same ones that funded her new nursing home.
“You’re setting his expectations way too high.” I pushed my sunglasses up on top of my head and discreetly wiped away a tear. Probably just allergies.
Gran barked out a laugh. “Please. He knew enough to grope your leg every time you were about to open your mouth and say something unfortunate.”
Patrick bit back a smile.
“Yeah, well, I don’t require a pedestal,” I said. “Mostly my hobbies include enjoying having one drink too many and dancing in the living room in my underwear.”
“I wouldn’t mind seeing that,” said Patrick.
“You always did like doing that.” Gran smiled, easing up for the first time since she started grilling Patrick. “The only difference being that when you were little, the drink was a bottle of milk and you were wearing a diaper. Toni Braxton was a particular favorite. Every time she came on the radio you’d get all excited. I’ll show you some photos sometime if you like, Patrick.”
“Yes, please,” he said.
I grabbed the arms of my chair. “Not a chance. He does not need to see my baby photos.”
“I absolutely need to see them. The sooner the better.”
“What was this story today about you two having a fight on your way home from a party last night?” asked Gran all casual like.
I wrinkled my nose. “Huh?”
“Exactly that, ma’am,” said Patrick. “A story. Something they made up to go with the photos they took of us. Nothing more.”
Gran’s brows rose in surprise. Guess it’s one thing to know the gossip sites were in the habit of telling lies and another to see it in action. To have it confirmed.
“So when can I see these photos?” asked Patrick.
Seldom did I manage to rise above petty taunting and keep my mouth shut. This was one of those rare times. So instead, I turned to look out at the garden. A tall Black gentleman was completing yet another lap of the garden. What was interesting was how his gaze was so frequently turned our way. “Who’s the old guy who keeps shuffling past giving you heated looks?”
“My new boyfriend, Harold.” Gran preened. “I rather like this nursing home. Made a small fortune the first week pretending I was bad at cards.”