“Okay, I think we started off on the wrong foot. Hi. Welcome to my home. Would you like me to show you around?” I asked, holding out my arms. I loved this house. I had made it mine, and while I might be a little more anal-retentive than some of my friends, I could relax here. And I did not want my parents and my cousin to jeopardize the sanctity of what I had built here.
Only it didn’t seem as if I had a choice.
“We are here now,” my father began, “and we don’t need to see your home. But there are a few things we need to discuss.”
“Oh?” I asked, confused.
“It’s about Grandma Sharon,” Roland answered.
My heart twisted, and I took a step forward, my hand outstretched. “Is she okay? We have our scheduled call tomorrow, but I haven’t heard anything from her this week. We’ve both been busy. She always sends cat memes, but it’s been...I guess it’s been longer than usual.” Worry filled me, and I put my hands in front of myself, clasping them together.
“Your grandmother passed,” my mother said, waving her hand in the air as if it weren’t her mother who died.
I staggered back, placing my hand on my chest. “What? Grandma Sharon is dead?” I asked, tears filling my eyes. “When? And you came here to tell me in person? What happened?”
“It was last week.” My mother fixed her hair even though not a strand was out of place. “She fell asleep and didn’t wake up. The funeral was two days ago.”
Shock slid through me, and I took another step back, running into the armchair in the sitting room. I sank onto its cushions, trying to catch my breath. Grandma Sharon had been the one person in my family who always understood me. She had bought me my first paint set, had taught me how to work with watercolors and oils, and had taken me to different art classes when my mother said it was useless. She had been the one to show me who I could be if I let myself. She helped me apply to out-of-state colleges when my parents were opposed. She tried to help me find my way when I came back from Colorado brokenhearted. We had drifted apart slightly when I moved back here, needing space from my family and wanting to be near Hazel. But we talked weekly.
“How could you not tell me? Grandma Sharon is dead? And you already had the funeral? Without me?”
“There’s no need to be dramatic,” my father chided. “There’s nothing you can do about it. There was a small ceremony with family.”
“I’m family,” I growled.
“Watch your tone,” my mother snapped.
“No, this is my home. We’re under my roof. I can say whatever the hell I want to. I can yell if I want. You barged into my home without saying you were coming, and now you’re telling me my grandmother is dead? And acting as if you don’t care?”
“Of course, I care, Myra,” my mother said. “She was my mother. But there’s nothing I can do. She’s dead. And you need to stop acting like a petulant child. You’re the one who left us. You’re the one who came back to this godforsaken state to be with the mountain people or whatever the hell it is you love here. You left us. You decided to cut the ties. And I’m sorry if we couldn’t bow to your precious schedule.”
“How the hell could I bow to your schedule when I didn’t know the funeral was going to happen?” I asked, pain slapping me in the face. “You didn’t even call to tell me. And yet you flew out here? I don’t understand.”
“Your grandmother’s lawyer set up the reading of the will here.” My mother’s voice was crisp. I simply sat there as my cousin glared, and my parents looked annoyed to be in the same room with me. They stood, hovering, and I felt walled off and as if I were two steps behind. I didn’t know what to do.
“The will,” I whispered. “This is all about money?”
My father snarled. “Life is about money, Myra. My mother-in-law set up the reading of her will to be in this state for some reason, even though she resided in California for forty years.”
“But she was from here originally,” I whispered. She had been a huge part of why I moved to Colorado.
“Why are you here, truly?” I asked, too tired to deal with my emotions. Everything hurt, and I wanted to be able to allow myself to feel that, but I couldn’t do that while they were watching. I had never been able to, and now, it was only worse.
“The reading of the will is next week. We are staying in downtown Denver. We’ll give you our information. You need to be at the will reading since you are listed as a beneficiary. You are required to be there.”
“Okay,” I said. “Just give me the information, and I will see you there. I don’t know why you didn’t tell me when it happened.”
“Not everything is about you, Myra,” my mother spat.
“I see,” I whispered.
“It’s okay, cuz.” Roland smiled. “I didn’t know you didn’t know about Grandma, but you know she loved you the most. She’ll take care of you.”
I looked over at Roland, wondering what he expected me to say. We had never gotten along, but he had never been cruel to me like some of my other cousins had. He was nothing but a rich boy who worked for his dad and liked the money that came from his mother—my mother’s sister. He was probably waiting on a large inheritance from Grandmother to help fulfill his next phase of life. I didn’t care. I had money from the other side of the family. And from work. What I wanted was my grandmother. And here I was, not even allowed to grieve. Not yet, at least.
“Hey, the door was open, are you okay?”
I turned, nearly falling out of my chair at the sound of Nate’s voice. He walked in, his eyes wide as he looked at me. And then they narrowed into slits as my parents turned as one to face him.
“Nathan,” my mother bit out.
I looked between them, confused. “Wait, you know each other?” I asked.
“Of course, we know each other,” Nate said. “They’re the ones that showed me the photos of you cheating on me.”
I looked at him, and my world tilted on its axis as I turned to my parents and finally understood.
“What the hell?” I asked.
Though I was afraid I already knew the answer.
Chapter 7
Nate
I stood in Myra’s sitting room, wondering if I’d somehow crossed a portal into the past. One of the worst moments of my life was now staring back at me in full force.
Her parents might look slightly older—not much, if I were honest—but they had the same expression they’d had the last time I saw them.
Disappointment.
Anger.
Pity.
And, once again, I didn’t know which of the three were for me and what was for Myra. Probably a mix of all of them.
Myra looked at her parents and I had a feeling I’d fucked up. Not now. Not in this moment. But years ago. I looked between them and I knew I’d been decided, and I’d made the biggest mistake of my life. A colossal misstep that I’d never be able to come back from.
“What the hell?” Myra asked, her hand shaking at her sides.
“Myra, what did I say about that tone?” her mother snapped. I took two striding steps forward to stand at Myra’s side. We may have been on opposite sides of many encounters recently. But right now, I was on her side. I didn’t know why. I didn’t know what would happen next, but something was going on. What I did know was that I did not want to be in the dark.