Comfort Zone (Awkward Love Book 4)

by Missy Johnson

  “Are you just too different or is he not a nice person?”

  I’m surprised by her question, but then it hits me. She doesn’t realize who my father is. She sees him every day, yet she has no idea who he is. It’s no secret that the president of university is my father, but I guess I don’t announce it, either.

  “He’s opinionated,” I finally say. “He has his way of doing things and if you stray from that, then he’ll hold a grudge for life. What about you? Do you get along with your parents?”

  She nods. “Mostly, they’re great, but just embarrassing as hell. I know I should be grateful to have such good parents, but even now, at twenty-seven, I feel like a teenager, with some of the shit they do. It’s just…” She shakes her head. “Mom followed me into a sex shop on the way to Jake’s bachelor party the other night and she knocked over a display of tiny Pac-Man style penises.”

  “What?” I laugh. “You’re kidding.”

  “Wait.” She giggles. “I have evidence.” She pulls out her phone and shows me a picture of her poor Mom sprawled out on the floor being eaten alive by penises.

  “I can’t believe you took a picture of that.” I chuckle. “Harsh.”

  “She would’ve done the same thing to me.” She shrugs and shoves her phone back into her bag. “Speaking of that night…” She hesitates for a moment. “You said nothing happened between us, other than a kiss?”

  I nod, not sure where this is going.

  “You weren’t in your right mind and I wouldn’t take advantage of you like that.”

  “But did you want to?”

  I swallow, my hands clenching around the steering wheel.

  “More than you know…”

  Chapter Eleven

  Liam

  The silence that fills the car makes me regret ever making that admission. The awkwardness between us lasts the entire two hours left, until we pull into my mother’s driveway. I turn off the ignition and glance at Becca. I’m not sure bringing her on this drive was a good idea. Maybe handling this on my own would have been a better option than asking her to help me. That, or I should have made Jake come. I’m not even sure why he couldn’t, aside from Brooke freaking out. When he asked me, the only thing running through my mind was how I could use it to get to know Becca.

  “This is where your grandmother lives?” Becca asks.

  I understand her confusion. I’d look at the sprawling, double story house and wonder how an elderly woman would manage too.

  I nod. “This is my mother’s place. Grammy came up here to live in a retirement home, to be closer to Mom. She lasted about five days there, before she was convinced all the men were trying to get into her pants. So Mom gave up and just moved her in here.”

  I’m closer with my mother than I am my father, but for obvious reasons, I see a hell of a lot more of Dad. I come up here when I can, but it’s not very often, but we handle it with regular phone calls.

  She shakes her head. “Wow. Big commitment. That must be hard work for your mom.”

  “It is, but you do what you have to, I guess.”

  The moment Mom answers the door, Becca relaxes. I knew she would. Mom is pretty laid-back and easy to get along with, and so is Becca. Mom gives me a hug, then her gaze settles on Becca. She smiles at me and raises her eyebrows. I shake my head. How did I know she’d get the wrong idea?

  “Hi. I’m Renée,” Mom takes Becca’s hand and shakes it. “Are you a friend of Liam’s?”

  “No, she’s just some random girl I picked up on the side of the road.”

  “No need to be rude,” Mom sniffs. “It’s not like I’m privy to what’s going on in your life.”

  I sigh and rub my eyes. My mother is of the belief that if I don’t have something to tell her every single conversation, then I’m obviously holding back on her. Never mind the fact that I’m a boring guy who works too hard.

  “It’s lovely to meet you,” Becca says, shaking my mother’s hand.

  “Likewise.” Mom smiles. “You seem like a nice girl. How did you two meet?”

  “I’m a friend of Jake’s,” Becca is quick to say.

  I glance at her, my eyebrows slightly raised. Then again, if the choices are we met at a strip club, or she’s my student, I’m not sure which would be better received.

  “Jake. Of course. How did the bachelor night go?” Mom asks. “Those nights are always too rowdy. I hope there weren’t any strippers,” she adds, raising her eyebrows at me.

  I chuckle and wrap my arm around Becca’s waist, who looks mildly terrified that I’m about to dump her in the shit. She’d be right, though.

  “Ask Becca. She organized it.” I grin. “What do you think, does ping-pong girl count as a stripper?”

  “Oh? You planned Jake’s bachelor party?” she asks, the slightest trace of disapproval in her voice.

  As laid-back and casual as my mother is, there are certain things she gets her back up over, and pre-wedding festivities, especially when they involve things like strippers, are not something she’s comfortable with. I glance at Becca, realizing I should’ve warned her before we got here. And I definitely shouldn’t have announced that she planned the party.

  I think I better keep what else happened, to myself.

  “Where’s Grammy?” I ask, keen to change the subject.

  “She’s in the living room.” Mom nods straight ahead, like I wasn’t here only a few weeks ago. She makes a face. “Sorry, force of habit.”

  “Can I get you a cup of tea or coffee before you go?”

  My stomach rumbles at the mention of coffee. Usually by now, I’d be on my fifth cup, but today, I’d somehow managed to survive on one.

  “Sure. I’ll just go and say hi to Grammy.”

  Becca follows Mom into the kitchen, so I walk into the living room. Grammy sits in her chair, near the TV. Her eyes are closed, but I can see the soft rise and fall of her chest.

  I watch her sleep for a moment, my hands buried deep in my pockets, so I can’t fidget with them. Lately, all thinking about Grammy does is bring me is sadness. I hate even admitting it, but it’s like I instinctively know she doesn’t have long left.

  Maybe that’s why I call and visit her as much as I can. I know it’s not enough and that I should try harder, but time is so short as it is. I turn around, ready to sneak back out, but just as I do, she stirs. Her eyes flicker open and take a moment to fixate on me. Then a moment longer to recognize who I am. She smiles so widely that I can’t help but smile back.

  “Hey Grammy,” I murmur.

  I crouch down next to her chair and take her hand. She beams at me, a smile that makes my heart soar and places her hand over mine.

  “I’ve missed you, Liam,” she says.

  Wow. She actually knows me today. It’s the first time in a long time I’m not my uncle Sam, or my father. Or at her worst, a total stranger.

  “How are you?” I ask her softly.

  She rolls her eyes and glances back at the door, with a shake of her head. I resist the urge to laugh, because something has her worked up.

  “It’s like a prison in here,” she whispers loudly. “They won’t let me do anything in here.”

  Mom walks in and narrows her eyes. She gives Grammy a stern look and she crosses her arms over her chest, her lips pressed tightly together in a straight line.

  “Tell him the whole story,” she says.

  “What do you mean?” Grammy asks, feigning innocence.

  Mom laughs and shakes her head, before turning to me.

  “She snuck out of the house after I went to sleep last night. I woke up at four in the morning to the police pounding on the door.”

  “You’re kidding.” I groan. I glance at Grammy, who is avoiding eye contact with me. “What happened?”

  “She’d broken into a shop on Main Street. The police arrived and there were animals everywhere. They were blocking the road, the sidewalk…” She shakes her head and laughs, because what else can you do? “She told them she wante
d to ‘free all the animals.’”

  “Being passionate about animal rights isn’t a bad thing,” Becca offers.

  “I agree. Only this wasn’t a pet shop, or a veterinary clinic that she broke into.” Her lips twist into an involuntary smile. “It was a taxidermist office,” Mom says. Her shoulders shake as she tries to hold in her laughter. “I didn’t realize it at first when the officer was telling me. I was picturing Noah’s Ark or something, with animals walking around everywhere. When he showed me a photo of the scene, I nearly lost the plot.” She wipes her eyes. “The worst part was he was so serious about the whole thing.” He sat there and frowned at me as I tried not to laugh. I felt like I was in school again.”

  “Oh God,” I mutter, rubbing my eyes.

  Any other day, I’d probably find it funny, but all I feel today is anxiety. These episodes are becoming a daily thing, sometimes twice a day. Every time I speak to Mom, she has a few new Grammy tales for me. Becca catches my eye and smiles softly. I see the sympathy in her eyes and I know she gets it. Mom clasps her hands together and looks from Becca, to me.

  “So, are you staying for dinner?”

  I shake my head. “I’d love to stay, but I think it’s best if we get to Vegas before dark. We might even have to skip that coffee, as much as it pains me to say that.”

  “Of course.” Mom nods, understanding exactly what I mean. “Things definitely become more complicated after dark.”

  My mother knows better than anyone how bad Grammy gets in the evening, but I know more than most people would, too. When Grammy lived back in LA, before she moved here to be closer to Mom, I used to visit her every week in the evenings after work. It doesn’t sound like much and I feel guilty that I couldn’t get over to see her more often than that, but I was just working so much that it was hard to find the time. The problem with time is that when I do finally have it, Grammy’s might have run out.

  The difference between seeing her then and visiting her in the mornings was incredible. It was like a completely different person. The woman I saw after dark was afraid, confused and scared, a far cry from the strong, independent lady I knew my grandmother to be. I hated seeing her like that. I told Mom that I didn’t think she could handle living alone anymore. It killed me, not only because I knew how much her independence meant to her, but also because it would mean she’d be even farther away from me. I struggled finding the time to see her as it was.

  “You ready, Grammy?” I ask her.

  I take her arm and help her to her feet. She stands up, but then shuffles away from me, an alarmed look on her face. She glances from me to my mother to Becca, before she seems to relax.

  Getting Grammy ready to leave is a marathon in itself. I’m exhausted by the time we actually walk out of the house. The funny thing is, there probably was time for that coffee. I stifle a yawn and help Grammy out to the car, ignoring her grumbling about missing half her favorite show. Becca reaches for her bags and is quickly swatted away.

  “I’m not dead, girlie. I can carry my own bags.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you,” Becca says with a smile.

  “Are you sure about that?” Grammy frowns. She moves closer to me, but her eyes remain on Becca as she whispers loudly, “I don’t trust her. She looks way too happy.”

  Becca bursts into laughter, which scares the life out of poor Grammy.

  “See? Now she’s trying to kill me,” she mutters. “She’s after my things, you know. Promise me you won’t let them out of your sight?”

  She’s always been like that, so strong willed and resists every attempt of help. I get it, it’s the last bit of independence she has left so she’s holding onto it with everything she has, but for the love of Christ, let me carry your damn bags.

  “I promise.”

  Finally, we’re ready to go. I glance at Becca and laugh.

  “Fuck me,” I mutter.

  She smiles and looks over her shoulder at Grammy, who is fast asleep before we’re even out of the driveway.

  “She’s sweet,” she says. “And totally not what I was expecting from what you’ve told me about her.” She lifts her gaze, her eyes meeting mine. “You’re really good with her, Liam.”

  I shrug, embarrassed. “It’s not really something to be praised about, though. She’s my Grammy. I’d be worried if I wasn’t good with her.”

  “I can think of loads of people who wouldn’t know how to interact with their own grandparents.”

  “What about you?” I ask. “Do you get on well with yours?”

  She smiles sadly. “I never got the chance to meet mine. They died before I was born.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say. I don’t need to be told how lucky I am to have her in my life.

  She shrugs. “It’s okay. I guess that’s why I feel bad when I get frustrated and annoyed with my mother. She’s getting older, since she had me when she was forty. I think it scares me that one day she won’t be around, like I haven’t really appreciated the time we have now. I give her so much crap.” Becca smiles. “I’m sure I’ll regret that one day.”

  “People look back on their lives and regret a lot of things,” I point out. “It’s part of living.”

  “I guess,” she agrees.

  Neither of us say much until I see the turnoff for the resort. I panic when I read the sign. Shit. I can’t take Grammy in there. I glance at Becca. This is going to be worse than I thought.

  “What?” she asks, noticing my expression.

  “Nothing,” I shake my head and look in the rearview mirror at sleeping Grammy. “I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

  “Liam. What’s wrong?” Becca repeats, frustrated.

  “You didn’t tell me that this resort is a casino,” I finally say. She frowns at me. “Grammy’s gambling problem?” I remind her.

  Becca snorts. “You were serious about that? She’s like a hundred years old. I thought you meant when she was.”

  “She’s ninety-six and I wish I was kidding,” I mutter.

  “So she still likes to gamble. That’s kind of cute,” Becca offers.

  I shake my head. “No, it’s not cute. I didn’t want to bring this up, but you’re leaving me no choice. Last year, she was kicked out of a poker match for starting a riot. Two people ended up in the hospital.”

  “Are we talking about that same person?” Becca asks, giggling. “That sweet little old lady in the back?”

  “Trust me. You’ve got no idea what you’ve gotten us into.”

  Becca rolls her eyes. “I’m sure you’re exaggerating.”

  “Yeah,” I say. “We’ll see.”

  I glance once again at Grammy in the rearview mirror, a pang of sadness hitting me. She is getting older. Life can change in the blink of an eye. You think you’ve got all time in the world, but what happens when you lose everything? As horrible as it sounds, Grammy might not wake up tomorrow. Hell, I might not wake up.

  “Liam?”

  I glance up at Becca. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “I said, should I be checking us in? I can take the bags up to our rooms, if you want to sit here with Grammy and let her sleep for a bit longer?”

  “Okay, that sounds good.”

  She wheels over a trolley and loads the baggage up and then walks inside. Becca booked us separate rooms—an interconnecting one for Grammy and me, and then Becca has her own room on the floor above.

  Grammy wakes up after a few minutes and looks around.

  “Where are we?” she snaps.

  “At a resort. We’re staying here for tonight so Becca can attend a family event tomorrow.”

  “Becca is that girl?” She frowns at the front seat. “Where’s she?”

  “She took our bags up to our rooms,” I explain.

  “She took my bags?” Her eyes widen with alarm.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  “I need my bag.” The panic in her eyes makes me start to panic. “Please, Liam. I need it. You have to get me my bag.”


  “Calm down,” I say. “We’ll go up there now and get your bags, okay?”

  I get out and walk around to help her out of the car, but she shrugs me off, insisting that she can do it herself. I sigh, because nothing I do is right. I’m not sure whether this is another symptom of the dementia, but whatever it is, I’ve never seen her so argumentative.

  “What’s so important about your bags?”

  “Oh…nothing,” she murmurs, looking away.

  I narrow my eyes as she stops to examine some roses growing near the front doors. Now she has time to stop for flowers? Five minutes ago she couldn’t get to her bags fast enough. Between that, and the way she won’t look at me, I know something is up.

  “Grammy…” I speak in the sternest voice I can muster.

  “What?” she practically shouts. “You wouldn’t let me take him, so what was I supposed to do? I couldn’t leave him there. That woman hates him.”

  That woman? I groan and take her hand, trying to hurry her up, before the poor thing suffocates. I know exactly what she’s done, but I glance at her, still wanting to ask the question, just in case I’m wrong.

  “Please tell me you didn’t smuggle Andrew into your luggage,” I beg her. “Grammy?” I press when she doesn’t answer.

  “What? You just told me not to tell you,” she snaps.

  I groan and race inside—well, as fast as I can, while leading a ninety-six-year-old woman by the hand.

  I leave Grammy to continue her hobble to the elevators and race over to the service desk to find out what room we’re in. Then I run back to the elevator, making it just in time, before Grammy shuts the doors on me.

  “Sorry,” she says. She smiles at me. Her eyes are vacant, like she doesn’t recognize me. She thinks I’m a stranger. I let it go, because right now, my priority is Andrew.

  “This way,” I say, when the doors open.

  Startled, she looks up at me, recognition flickering in her eyes. It’s like lightning bolts. One minute, she’s there and the next she isn’t.