Page 54 of Brutal Truths

So, I lie.

And somehow that feels worse.

“Just me being clumsy. It looks worse than it feels.” A bitter, acrid taste, like ash, lingers in my mouth from the lie. “How was breakfast?”

Aiden pulls a chair out for me, his movement natural, before taking a seat next to Grams. “Good morning, Alma.”

Her reaction is instant. My grandmother’s cheeks pink, like a blossoming flower, and I have to fight back a giggle.

I get it.

Aiden has that effect on you, even when he doesn’t mean to.

“Nice to see you again.” Grams gives Aiden a sharp side-eye, her lips pressing together in disapproval, a judgment loud, even in silence. “Did you spend the night with my granddaughter?”

I nearly choke on the sip of water I just swallowed. “Grams, be nice.”

“It’s a fair question.” She raises her mug, completely unfazed. “If I were younger, I’d be all over him.”

Heat now floods my face. “Grams! Enough.” I stifle a laugh behind a feigned cough. “Please don’t embarrass him.”

Aiden’s quiet snicker fills the space as his hand settles over mine. “I slept here, but not in her room. She needs rest and space, so I’ve given that to her.”

“How disappointing.” She sighs, sipping her tea, like she didn’t just say that. “She might have slept better if you hadn’t been so polite. All that tossing and turning kept me awake. A good orgasm would’ve solved that.”

Oh. My. God.

I drop my head against the table, wishing it would swallow me whole.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Aiden says, way too entertained. “Maybe I’ll see what I can do about that tonight.”

I don’t even need to look at him. The intensity of his stare burns into me like a promise.

As if we weren’t just talking about my sex life, Grams pivots without warning. “When can we go home? I have a gallery event that I need to arrange. People are counting on me.”

A painful ache hits me in the chest. “There’s no event, Grams. You haven’t arranged one of those in years.”

“I haven’t?” Her face pinches with confusion. “Are you sure?”

I hate this part. The slipping. The losing. The way time gets stolen from her in pieces.

It always makes her sad, and it breaks my heart. “I’m sure.”

“Maybe when we go home, I’ll call my friend. See if he’d lend a hand with a brewing project. That’s if Rico will let me.” Her frown deepens, a hint of worry flickers in her eyes. “He never lets me have any fun anymore.”

Her gaze shifts, searching the room like she expects him to appear. “Where is he? He should be here by now. Can you call him? Ask him to bring my supplies. I believe I’d like to paint something. It’s been so long since I’ve been allowed to paint what I want.”

Tears threaten, stinging just beneath the surface, but I hold them back. I can’t let them fall, not when she doesn’t understand why they would.

“How about I get you some new supplies?” I offer, keeping my voice level. “There’s a small art store in the village. You tell us what you need and we’ll order it.”

Grams shakes her head, stubborn as ever. “You know how picky I am about my supplies. Only the best will do.”

I press my fingers to my temples, the dull ache already building. “I know. But the place also has a small gallery attached. I’m willing to bet they carry something to your standards.”

“Oh.” Her eyes brighten. “Do you think we could stop by? Just for a little visit?”

Aiden answers before I can, smoothly stepping in. “I don’t see why not. I’ll have Lane and Teddy scope it out. Check the hours it’s open. It’s the off-season, so it might make things tricky.”