Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 126850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 634(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 634(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
“Yes,” I replied. “That’s why I’ve been in therapy on and off for, like, fifteen years.”
“Aristocrats are weird.”
“I’m not an aristocrat.”
“You are an aristocrat,” she shot back. “One I am very grateful for because of the whole no-rent thing.”
My lips twitched into a smile. “I bet. I’m seeing Granny for breakfast tomorrow, actually. I’ll speak to her then.”
“Thank you.” Amber picked up her mug. “Don’t forget to tell her that I love her lipstick colour and it’s my favourite dress on her.”
“I don’t know, I think she’ll figure out you’re trying to butter her up.”
“Yeah, but she loves me, so…” She shrugged a shoulder and smiled over the rim of her mug. “Just tell her you’re hunting for an aristocratic husband with a title higher than your dad’s who’ll let her move in and rub it in Carmen’s face. Then she’ll cook you whatever you want.”
I snorted and reached for my tea. “Oh, don’t. I am never dating an aristocrat. That’s a whole bunch of drama I am not interested in.”
“Maybe not all aristocratic families are as insane as yours.”
“Oh, most are,” I replied. “I am going to meet someone nice and normal with a regular old family, and absolutely no titles. None. Zilch. Nada.”
CHAPTER TWO – GRACE
Tea-tally Fucked
“No, Granny, you cannot send anonymous hate mail to Carmen. I’m pretty sure that constitutes as harassment.”
“If that’s harassment, so is her existence in my life. I’m tormented by the thought of her,” Granny replied, sniffing indignantly. She touched her middle finger to the corner of her eye as if she were dabbing a tear away.
She wasn’t crying.
The woman wore half a tube of mascara every day. You’d know if she was crying.
“I’m not sure her living in the same town is harassment,” I replied slowly. “That probably means you have an unhealthy fixation and need therapy.”
Granny clinked her teaspoon against the side of her teacup with vigour, then raised her gaze to glare at me. “I resent that, Gracie.”
“There’s nothing wrong with therapy. I have a therapist.”
“I’ve met your father. You need a therapist.”
Oh, boy. She was feisty today.
It was like minding thirty feral cats in a bathtub when she was like this.
Also, she wasn’t wrong. It made it rather hard to argue with her.
“Granny.”
“Don’t say my name like that.”
“You’re being unreasonable,” I told her. “I’ve told you; you don’t have to have any kind of relationship with Dad. I’m an adult. I’m perfectly capable of dealing with him and Carmen by myself without your not-so-divine interventions.”
“I don’t trust her.” Her lips were painted in a deep red, and she puckered them in her displeasure. “I’m going to spend the rest of my life making sure you get what you deserve from that horrid man.”
“Granny, I will. Honestly, I’m happy with my house. He didn’t have to buy it, much less set the budget he did, and I’m grateful for it. It means I’m set up for life. I can live without everything else.”
“Absolutely not. When I come back as a ghost, I want to see her face the first time she sees you wearing the Loxford diamond collet necklace.”
“Really? I’d prefer to be nowhere near her when that time comes,” I replied honestly. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she tried to rip it off my neck.”
“Yes, well, if she tries, I’ll beat her with my walking stick.”
“You don’t have a walking stick.”
“I will when you wear that necklace,” Granny replied nonchalantly, picking her teacup up. “I will ensure I have one handy.”
“What are you going to do? Whip one out of your handbag, Mary Poppins style?”
“Perhaps. It depends how far the handbag technology industry goes.”
“Is there such a thing as the handbag technology industry?”
“If not, there should be. All women need an expandable handbag.”
I paused.
I wasn’t sure I agreed.
I had enough crap in my handbag as it was—having an endless pit of storage seemed like a very slippery slope. Although I suppose that depended on whether you thought there was such a thing as too many lip balms.
I never had enough.
Unless I was looking in my handbag.
Then, yes. Yes, there was such a thing as too many lip balms.
“Okay, that’s enough of that,” I replied, using my napkin to pat the corners of my mouth. “Can we discuss something other than Carmen?”
“Gladly. How is your thesis coming along?”
Anything but that.
Please.
I groaned, slowly reaching up to tuck my hair behind my ear. “Miserably. I feel as though I’ve already covered how the aristocracy was connected to slavery and their relevance to British society. It’s surprisingly difficult, even given the resources and first-hand knowledge at my disposal.”
“You’re a smart thing, Gracie. You’ll get there. How much time do you have left in your term?”
“About a year,” I replied. “I have more than enough time, and I’m grateful they aren’t making me teach, but sometimes it feels as though I’ll never complete it.”