Oh shit, I’ve screwed up big time.
“Um, her friend Patricia is with her. She drove Agatha and is staying with her overnight. They live in the same building.” Her hands were shaking, guilt choking her as she tried to fix this unfixable situation. “Your grandmother didn’t want you to worry, so she said she wasn’t going to tell you until after. The girls’ weekend was kind of a cover, I guess.”
“You guess?” he spat. “And this was what? Just another lie you were keeping from me?”
“No!” She reached for him, but when he flinched away, she tucked her arms around her aching stomach. “I mean, I wasn’t supposed to know about this, either. I kind of walked in on Agatha talking to her doctor, and she swore me to secrecy. I’m sorry, August, I know I should have told you, but Agatha made me promise.”
“She’s my grandmother, Moira. Mine.” He pounded a fist to his chest. “I don’t care how simple the procedure was. What if there’d been complications? What if she had died? I never would have gotten the chance to say good-bye. You had no right to hide something like this from me, promise or not. She’s my family, not yours, and I deserved to know.”
Her heart broke, cracked like a crystal wedding vase and shattered into a million tiny pieces. He was right. Agatha wasn’t her family. She should have told August no matter what she promised. Just imagining what could have happened…no, she couldn’t. It was too painful.
“August, I-I’m sorry.” Tears leaked out the corner of her eyes, tracking warm paths down her cheeks.
“Save your sorrys for someone who actually believes them.” He stared at her as if he’d never seen her before. “I don’t think I can trust anything you say ever again.”
A sob broke free, and she bent over as pain and guilt pressed a heavy weight on her shoulders.
“I have to go see Gran.” He rushed out of the kitchen, heading for the front door.
“August, wait.”
He paused with the door slightly ajar. Not even glancing back, he spoke. “I know I’m breaking the sub-lease, but I can’t stay here anymore, Moira. I can’t…be with you. I’ll come back tomorrow for my things. Please don’t be here.”
With a slam of the door, he was gone. Mo crumpled to the floor, letting the tears flow freely, heaving sobs racking her body. What had she done?
She knew what she’d done. She’d lied and kept things from the man she’d fallen in love with. The man she suspected was her soul mate. And now, because of her actions, he couldn’t be in the same room with her, couldn’t even stand to look at her. She’d screwed up so, so badly. And it might have just cost her everything.
Chapter Twenty
August stood outside his grandmother’s door, trying to get his anger and fear under control. The woman had just had surgery. Surgery! As much as it hurt that she didn’t feel the need to inform him of such a huge life event, he knew going in there temper blazing wouldn’t be good for her. And as furious as he was, he would never do anything to cause harm to his grandmother. He loved her. Which made this whole thing hurt even worse.
He took a few calming breaths, clenching and unclenching his hands, working hard to release the tension in his muscles. Once he’d succeeded in pushing the emotions deep inside, locking them in a box, he raised a hand to knock softly on the door. Within a minute, the door slowly swung open. A woman with salt and pepper natural curls framing her face like a crown answered the door with a kind smile. She looked to be around Gran’s age, maybe a few years younger. Had to be the woman Mo mentioned, Gran’s friend Patricia.
“Why, you must be Agatha’s grandson August,” the woman said, looking him up and down. “The hair is a dead giveaway.”
Up until a decade or so ago, his grandmother’s hair had been as red as his. She dyed it for a few years after finding grays, but a while back, she stated the upkeep was too much and declared she was going to be a silver-haired goddess. She was, and August didn’t know what he’d have done if anything during surgery had gone wrong.
Why didn’t you tell me, Gran?
He shoved the question away. Now wasn’t the time. He was just here to make sure she was okay. He tried to muster up a smile for the woman taking care of his grandmother. A job that should have been tasked to him. “Yes, I’m August. You must be Patricia.”
“I am.” Patricia nodded. “I didn’t know you’d be stopping by today.”
He shifted on his feet. “I would have been here earlier. I would have been at the hospital if I…”
“Ah, yes.” She shook her head with a slight frown. “I told Agatha she should have discussed this with you. I don’t know why the stubborn woman wouldn’t even tell her own grandson about something this important.”
There, see! At least someone agreed with him that Gran should have informed him of her surgery.
“I understand that she didn’t want to worry you, but that’s what family does, right? Worry.” Patricia shrugged, stepping back to motion him inside. “There’s no point in keeping secrets. They all get uncovered in time.”
The woman was speaking the truth. Gran might have saved him worry before the fact, but now he was dealing with a whole host of emotions due to her deceptions. He would rather have had the worry.
“She’s in her room resting,” Patricia said, nodding to the closed door just off the living room area. He started to take a step forward, but she held up one finger, halting his movements. “I can trust you won’t upset her? I know your grandmother should have told you about today, and I’m not sure how you found out, but what she needs right now is rest and well wishes. Not to be confronted. Even if the fool woman does deserve it.”
A genuine smile tilted his lips. He liked Gran’s friend. She cared. But she also clearly didn’t take anyone’s crap. He could see why Gran trusted her enough to care for her after surgery. But that thought only twisted the knife deeper. She didn’t trust me enough.
“I promise I only want to make sure she’s okay. With my own eyes.”
Patricia nodded, allowing him to continue. He paused at the bedroom door, wondering if he should knock or just go in. He was saved from making a decision when his grandmother’s voice called from the other side of the closed door.
“Stop hemming and hawing, August, and get your butt in here.”
He chuckled softly, relief washing over him to hear his grandmother’s voice, a little weaker than normal, but still full of clout. Turning the knob, he entered the dimly lit bedroom. The overhead light was off, and the shades were drawn, but the bedside lamp was on, illuminating his grandmother, lying in bed, covers up to her chest and an e-reader at her side.
“Well, you might as well come in and let me have it.” She nudged the electronic device with a finger. “I’m too tired to read more than a few words anyway. Funny how a person can be asleep for hours and still wake up tired.”
“You weren’t asleep, Gran. You were under anesthesia. Having surgery.” A surgery you didn’t tell me about. But he didn’t say that part because it was obvious, and as wounded as he was, he didn’t want to upset his grandmother right now.
“I know what I was doing.” She raised a silver brow. “The question is, how do you know?”
He shook his head. “That’s not important right now. I just stopped by to make sure you were okay. See if you needed anything.”
She smiled, lifting her arms ever so slightly and motioning with her hands. “I’m fine, Auggie. But I could use a hug.”
He made his way to his grandmother’s bedside, sitting on the edge. Leaning down, he gently embraced her, not sure where her incision was or how much pain she was in. The last thing he wanted to do was cause her pain.
“You can squeeze me tighter than that, child.” She let out a snort of laughter. “I’m still hopped up on the good drugs. I’m not in any pain.”
That was good to hear, but he was still going to err on the side of caution.<
br />
“Now,” she said when he pulled back. “Since the only other people who knew about this were Patricia, who doesn’t have a way to contact you, and Mo, I’m going to guess Mo told you the truth?”
He wished. Unfortunately, Moira had essentially stuck to his grandmother’s promise of secrecy.
“Not exactly.” He shook his head. “But we don’t need to talk about this right now. You need your rest and—”
“Oh, pish posh.” She waved a hand in the air. “I had my appendix taken out when your father was just a baby and was flat on my back for weeks. That was an ordeal. Surgery has advanced so much since then; it’s amazing. I can’t believe I’m home right now and feeling fit as a fiddle.”
“Gran.”
“Fine, fit as a ukulele. A good one, not the cheap toys they sell in tourist shops. But the point is that I’m okay, and I think we need to talk about this.”
“You just want to talk now because you know I’ll take it easy on you since you just had surgery.”
She laughed, wincing slightly and pressing a hand to her abdomen. “Oooh, maybe try not to make me laugh too much. There’s a slight twinge that the drugs haven’t quite taken care of.”
He jumped up from the bed, careful not to jostle her too much. “Do you need anything? Water? A hot pad? More pillows?”
“Oh, for goodness sake, Auggie. Stop fussing over me. I’m fine.” She lifted a hand, beckoning him to sit back down. “See, this is why I didn’t tell you. You’re such a fretter. If I had told you about the procedure, you would have been fussing over me like a mother hen for weeks. Remember I’m the grandmother. It’s my job to fuss.”
He gently sat back down, taking his grandmother’s hand in his. Her palms and fingertips were rough from so many years working with flowers. They were pretty plants, but many had sharp prickles, stabbing thorns, hidden hurts among their beauty.
“Gran, you’re my family, and family worries. I should have been there for you.”
“You’re always there for me, August.” She smiled, lifting her other hand to pat his cheek. “You always have been, whenever I needed you.”
And she’d been there for him just the same. “So you’re really okay? Everything went fine?”
“Better than fine. The doctor zipped in, grabbed that gallbladder, and zipped back out. She said I have to watch the fatty foods from here on out, but the surgery was quick and successful.”
She explained to him about her issues over the years with gallstones and changing her diet to try and prevent the surgery. He had no idea. What kind of a self-absorbed ass was he that his grandmother had been dealing with a health issue and he hadn’t even known? Of course, it wasn’t entirely his fault. Gran was very good at keeping things under wraps, obviously. Still, he should have sensed something. She had called a while back to ask him for some of his recipes. He’d assumed she was just trying to eat healthier, not change her diet for a medical condition.
“Now,” she said when she was done explaining, “since Mo didn’t spill the beans, tell me how you found out.”
At the mention of Moira’s name again, anger and pain churned in his gut. He’d been so angry with her when he found the loan paperwork, but when he found out she’d also kept Gran’s surgery from him…he’d never felt so wrecked. She’d taken his trust, something he didn’t give out lightly, and decimated it. Ripped it to shreds along with the heart he was starting to release from behind the wall that had kept it so protected for years. No longer. He was bricking that sucker back up and adding a steel barricade to boot.
“I was looking for some invoices in the supply room, and I found the loan paperwork.”
Gran grimaced. “Oh, you found that, did you?”
“A loan, Gran? Really? It’s so risky, and for what?”
She lifted her chin, staring him straight in the eyes. “For a business that I love dearly and that’s been in our family for years. You may only see me as an old woman, August, but I’ve been running Porter’s Petals since before I married your grandfather. I love that shop, and so did he. It’s more than just a flower store. It’s a place where people can buy expressions of love, of gratitude, sorrow, and celebration. It’s a part of me, a part of you, and every day I open that front door, I swear I can still feel your grandfather’s presence, wrapped around me as I tend to the flowers he loved only second to his family.”
Damn. He didn’t think about the fact that his grandparents used to run the store together. She’d left the home they shared long ago. Of course the shop would hold memories of the man she’d loved her entire life. No wonder she was so adamant about keeping it. “Gran, I—”
“No,” she interrupted, looking sterner and stronger than any woman who’d recently had surgery had a right to. “You listen to me, August Porter. I love that shop, but I love you more. Your father never wanted any part of the flower business, and I understand that. Everyone has to live their own path. But I had hoped, with your love of growing beautiful things, that one day you would want to take over. Now I know this loan move might seem like I’m trying to bribe you to stay with a plot of land for you to grow your flowers on, and I won’t deny it isn’t, but I also know a few folks who love growing flowers who’d be more than happy to work the land for me. So this isn’t a threat to get you to stay. Just an offer. A compromise for you to think on. But I will not be selling the shop. Not now. Not ever.”
“You said we could talk about it.”
“I did, and we have.”
He let out a frustrated laugh. Deep down, he must have known his grandmother was never going to sell the shop. He’d just let himself be blind to the reality. Hoping he could convince her of his wishes while completely disregarding hers. Seemed stubbornness ran in the family.
“You found the loan paperwork, but that doesn’t explain how you found out about my surgery.” She snuggled deeper into her pillows. “I assume you knew about the surgery before you arrived at my door.”
He nodded. “I did. I found the application and went home to…talk to Mo about it, and the surgery came out.”
“Ha!” Grandma let out a sharp laugh followed by a soft grunt when the loud exclamation caused her discomfort. “I know you, boy. I’m sure it was a very loud conversation.”
Yeah, okay, so he might have yelled a bit. But he’d been so angry. Still was a little, but mostly he was just sad, disappointed that Mo had kept things from him. He was beginning to think they might have a shot at something real, but how could they when the woman lied to him? How could he trust her?
A relationship without trust was nothing.
“She went behind my back, Gran,” he argued. “She didn’t tell me about the loan or your surgery.”
“Because I asked her not to say anything,” his grandmother countered. “And in case you didn’t see it, she co-signed for the loan with me. She’s risking just as much as I am.”
He sighed. “I know, because you asked her to.” And Mo was the kind of person who would always help a friend. Even if that meant keeping something from another.
“No. I didn’t ask. She offered—insisted, even.”
“What?”
“When the bank said I needed a co-signer for the loan, Mo offered right away. I told her she didn’t need to. I could ask someone else, but she wouldn’t take no for an answer. She said she wanted to help. She believed in my idea of attaching a small flower-growing farm to the business.”
He shook his head. “But she’s just doing this so you don’t have to sell. She’s trying to keep you here. Keep me here.”
“Of course she is. The girl loves you.”
He sat back in shock at his grandmother’s words, nearly falling off the edge of the bed. “What did you say?”
“Oh, please, August,” she scoffed. “I may be old, but my vision isn’t gone yet. I can see the way that woman looks at you. Like you’re the sunniest day of
summer. Which is ironic, considering how much you frown.”
His brow furrowed, but she was right. In fact, he was frowning right now. But only because he couldn’t believe what his grandmother was saying.
“She doesn’t love me. She used me, cut me out.” That wasn’t love.
“Oh, my sweet boy.” She beckoned him closer. “Come here.”
He scooted closer on the bed, slipping both his hands into his grandmother’s.
“Sometimes the people who love us most hurt us the most, and not always intentionally. I know after the divorce, your parents each got wrapped up in their own lives, and it made you feel left out.”
Left out, unwanted, whatever. He had his own life now. One he liked. Or had until a certain five-foot-nothing woman with wild-colored hair and a penchant for looking on the bright side turned it completely upside down.
“They did you a disservice, but that doesn’t mean they don’t love you.”
He knew that. He never doubted they loved him, but knowing it and feeling it were two different things.
“She lied to me, Gran.”
With sad, loving eyes, his grandmother nodded. “Yes, but she did it because I made her promise. She was helping me, because she loves me, too. It wasn’t malicious, Auggie.”
Now that he knew. It was obvious how much Mo loved his grandmother. She was always trying to help, even with all this loan nonsense. Didn’t make the sting of betrayal any easier to soothe.
“And since I know she would withhold things from you because I asked her to, might I also hazard a guess that she’s been keeping something from me, too? Something you asked her not to mention? Something about the two of you?”
Crap.
“How did you…”
“Oh, please, August. Don’t think you can fool your own grandmother. I know the signs of, what do you kids call it today? Hooking up?”
He recoiled. “Please never say that phrase again.”
The Roommate Problem Page 18
