“No? We’re both going to be homeless. And beyond that…” He paused a moment before continuing. “I know you don’t want to talk about it. And I don’t want to pry. But even though you went through the motions of being happy for them last night, I got the feeling that their announcement annoyed you.”
She blinked. Had he scored a point, or had he surprised her? “What I was feeling last night is none of your business.”
“No? Are you happy with your mother?”
“Am I happy with my mother, or for my mother? I’m not sure what you’re asking.”
“You know what I mean.”
She stood up straight, squaring her shoulders and giving him a look that could turn anyone to stone. “My relationship with my mother is none of your damn business.”
“Look. I don’t mean to offend. But we’re going to be part of the same family. So your relationship with your mother is my business. Everyone knows you and your mother had a falling-out. Didn’t you stay away for years? There had to be a reason for that, right? And now here you are finally reconnecting with her, and she’s pushing you away.”
“That’s not what she’s doing. She asked me to plan her party. And if Jim wants to move into the beach house, that’s fine with me. So don’t try to tell me what I think or feel, okay?” She jutted out her chin, the picture of a devoted daughter. Wow, he hadn’t expected that.
He switched tactics, throwing more ammunition at her. “Don’t you think they’re a little old to get married?”
“Is there an age limit?” Her brows rose.
“No. I’m just saying that they’re too old to have kids, and if you’re okay with them living together, then why should they get married?”
“Because they’re in love?”
“Yeah, but when they break up, it would be so much easier without a bunch of lawyers and prenups and whatever.”
“Wow. You’re a real pessimist, aren’t you?”
“No, I’m not a pessimist. I’m a realist. And I’m opposed to this wedding.”
“You’ve made that abundantly clear.”
“I don’t want anything to do with planning this engagement party.”
“Fine. I’ll do it myself. It will be so much easier without you.” She captured his gaze. Something about the angry flush in her cheeks made his heart skip a beat.
“Don’t count on it being easier,” he said, meeting her angry stare with his own determination.
“And why is that?”
“Because I’m going to do everything I can to break them up.”
Chapter Three
Ella had to fight to keep her mouth from dropping open. “You’re insane. I’m going now.” She turned on her heel and rushed through the door. When she reached the sidewalk outside the doctor’s office, she stopped to get her bearings.
Now what? She jammed her hands into her jeans and stared up at the pale haze of spring green on the trees lining the street. She wanted to murder someone.
Starting with Doctor D.
But she had a bone to pick with Mom too. Why hadn’t she said one word about her plans? And did Jim really want her to move out of the beach house? She didn’t think so, but it would be a mistake to make assumptions either way.
She swallowed back the swelling lump in her throat. She was not going to cry right here on the sidewalk outside Doctor Dreadful’s office. Oh no. She was going to stay cool and calm and get to the bottom of this.
Although if Jim did want to move in with Mom, she wasn’t sure she’d be entirely comfortable living in the same place, sharing a bathroom with her new stepfather. She may have lied about that to Dylan, but hell if she was going to give him the lowdown on her feelings.
She started down Palmetto Street, walking with no purpose until her feet carried her toward Granny’s house. Just like that, the knot in her stomach eased.
Granny was sensible. Granny would know what to do.
Her pace quickened, and it occurred to her that, if Jim wanted to move in with Mom, Ella could always move in with Granny. There was a spare bedroom in Granny’s house, and now that her grandmother was getting older, it might be a good thing if Ella claimed it. She could keep an eye on her grandmother, and Mom could have some privacy. It was the perfect solution.
Take that, Doctor D.
She arrived at her grandmother’s house and stood on the sidewalk for a moment. Granny’s house wasn’t big or fancy but said “home” to Ella. Granny had recently fixed it up using the insurance money she’d gotten when a tree had crashed through her roof last December during a freak snowstorm. She’d painted it a pretty shade of yellow with cream-colored trim and forest-green shutters. A bright American flag fluttered on a pole attached to one of the porch columns, and Granny had already hung baskets of petunias that made a splash of deep purple against the yellow paint.
It reminded Ella of a vintage photograph or an old-time postcard. Ella had a weakness for postcards, especially since they were becoming obsolete. As a fiddler in a country-and-western band, she had spent months at a time on the road, eating in diners and gassing up at truck stops. At every stop along the road, she perused the postcard rack looking for the special ones.
For years, Ella’s only communication with Mom had been postcards sent from various places where the band had stopped to play. Mom had kept every single one of them, pinned to a corkboard in her kitchen. Mom loved her, and she loved Mom, no matter how rocky their relationship had been when she was a teenager.
Now Ella was trying her best to rebuild that relationship, and the last thing she needed was Dylan Killough butting his head into it and analyzing it or judging it or trying to use it. No, she was
