I was in love.
Logically, I knew that probably wasn’t true. It was probably more of a case of intense lust and infatuation. But, my heart screamed that my brain was wrong. And I’d always been a big believer in following your heart. So, damn if that wasn’t what I was going to do. And right now? My heart was telling me that Bronnson Williams was it.
A month was long enough to fall in love. It was more than enough according to the novels I read. And maybe I was relying on fiction a little too much, but whatever. The couples I read about fell in love at first sight, within a day, a week. A month in a romance novel was enough time to get married and have ten kids.
Okay, so maybe that was an exaggeration.
I didn’t care though, I was happy for the first time in my life. The weight of my past wasn’t nearly as heavy as it had been, the constant sadness didn’t plague my every waking moment. I could fucking breathe deep again, no more of these shallow breaths that never seemed to get enough oxygen to my hurting heart.
Sitting in the passenger seat of my car, I am relaxed even though I am on the way to see my Nana, an activity that is never pleasant. But, Bronn is with me, his fingers laced through mine, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing back and forth over my hand. So it doesn’t matter what my Nana says to me today, I will be okay, because I know that I am not alone.
And isn’t that another first?
For the first time since my dad had died, I don’t feel alone. Even with my friends, with my mother, I had always been lonely. No one else understood me, or even tried to. But Bronn does, his past just as tragic as my own. I am sad for him, but selfishly, glad to finally have someone that understands what it is like to walk around every day with that hollow feeling in your gut.
With the sun shining and the windows down, the drive to Columbia seems to take no time at all. Before I am ready to let go of his hand, Bronn pulls the car into the driveway of my childhood home.
Reluctantly, I untangle my fingers from his and unbuckle my seat belt, turning in my seat to face him.
“Bronn,” I say, clearing my throat. “I know I’ve told you about her, what she’s like now. But I need to warn you.” My voice cracks, forcing me to pause.
When he reaches for my hand, I grasp his as though it’s a life preserver, using his quiet support to give me the strength I know I’ll need.
“It will be fine,” he assures, his voice soothing me, even though I know his words don’t speak the truth.
Fine is not a word that I will ever use to describe these visits, or the woman that is waiting inside for us. But I don’t tell him that, I just nod when he gives my fingers a light squeeze.
Sucking in a deep breath, I steel myself as we make our way into the house.
The fireplace in the formal living room has a fire going, even though it’s summer and close to one hundred degrees outside.
We clear the doors and Bronn lets out a low whistle. “This is where you grew up?” he mutters, his eyes darting around.
“Yup. Home sweet home,” I lament. It didn’t feel like home and hadn’t in a long time.
I wave to one of the caretakers and she nods, a frown lining her tired face.
I squeeze my eyes shut when we reach Nana’s door, then lift my hand and knock. After a moment, her hard voice calls out.
“You don’t have to knock so damned loud, you know.”
I plaster on a fake smile, lifting my chin high, and with a shaky hand twist the knob.
With hesitant steps, I make my way into her room, the familiar surroundings doing nothing to ease the anxiety that causes my heart to slam in my chest.
The room is bathed in soft light from the fire that roars in the corner fireplace and is uncomfortably warm. Nana lounges in the queen-size poster bed, looking every bit the regal woman she wants everyone to believe she is.
I take a quick peek at myself, checking to ensure that my clothes are perfectly pressed, my shoes shiny. I can’t see my hair, but I reach up and smooth it down, hoping that I don’t have any fly-aways.
Despite her failing mind, Nana is still sharp as a tack when it comes to appearances. The last visit I’d had with her, she’d spent a full five minutes berating me for the wrinkles in my skirt. I didn’t want a repeat of that in front of Bronn, so I’d taken extra time getting dressed this morning.
Bronn quietly closes the door, and Nana’s head snaps up, her eyes looking beyond me. As he comes to stand by my side, her shrewd eyes travel the length of him, and I try not to imagine what her mind is thinking.
I’d asked him to wear something more than just jeans and a t-shirt, and he’d been sweet enough to indulge my request. But it was obvious that the khaki pants and button-down shirt he had on were not made of fine materials, and there was no way that Nana was going to miss it.
Sure enough, the moment her gaze reaches his unpolished shoes, she purses her lips together in disgust and focuses her attention on me.
“Brenda. I thought I told you not to bring that boy to my house again!” she snaps, spit flying from her mouth.
Bronn eyes me, the obvious question written on his face and I give my head a shake, stepping toward Nana’s bed.
Gingerly, I perch on the edge. “Nana, it’s Grace. Not Brenda,” I say softly, hoping my soothing tone will bring her back to the present.
For a split second, Nana’s face softens. Her blue eyes clear, the disapproval vanishing, and she takes my hand in hers.
Her skin is soft, the routine of rubbing lotion on them three times a day obviously worth it, and I lightly squeeze her fingers. My heart rate slows, the ball of nerves in my stomach easing, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
When Nana smiles at me tears spring to my eyes and, even though I know she finds tears a sign of weakness, I let them fall. Hopeful that for once, just this one time, we will have a good visit, I whisper, “Nana, I’ve missed you.”
Just as quickly as her face relaxed, the moment of happiness disappears and Nana snatches her hand from mine, her face twisting into a look that can only be described as utter disgust.
“Trash,” she whispers.
I look toward the wastebasket on the floor and I ask, “You need me to take the trash out?”
There’s only a few tissues wadded up in the bottom of the can, but Nana always was a stickler for cleanliness. I push to my feet and look to where Bronn stands awkwardly, his hands in his pockets. I lift a shoulder, not quite sure why she’s so worried about the trash when Nana speaks again, causing me to stop in my tracks.
“You’re trash. Just like your mother.” Her words are laced with venom, and with the precision of a cobra, hit me right where she intended.
Whirling around to face her, the blood drains from my face as I whisper, “What?”
Lifting the hand that I had just been holding, she aims one of her arthritic fingers in Bronn’s direction and snarls. “Bringing this riff raff to my house, what the hell is the matter with you?”
I flinch, her words hitting me harder than if she had actually struck me. I knew that this visit wasn’t going to be pleasant, and maybe deep down I’d known it was going to go exactly like this, but foolishly I’d hoped that maybe Nana would be different today. And for a moment she was, which makes this abrupt change that much harder.
Looking back at Bronn, his face is pale, the shock of hearing what this stranger thinks without knowing the first thing about him obvious. His eyes meet mine and I press my quivering lips together, apologizing to him with my eyes. He gives a slight nod of his head, and I turn my attention back to the woman in the bed.
I stare at her in silence for a moment, trying to gather my wits, and more importantly, my courage. Taking a step back, I stand beside Bronn and pull his hand into mine. He gives it a hard squeeze, giving me the encouragement that I need to speak again.
“Nana, this is Bronnson Williams, my boyfriend,” I tell her, my voice loud and clear. I may be shaking inside, my stomach feeling as though it’s just spent the day on a boat at sea, but I refuse to let that show. Nana raised me to never show weakness, and even though I fail her daily, now is not the time to show her that.
She sneers, her lip still curled, making her hard face appear even more harsh. “I raised you and your mother better than this. Your mother brought shame to our family, bringing that worthless father of yours home. And worse, running off and letting him get her pregnant.” Her chin quivers in anger, her face turning purple as her voice gets louder with every horrible word she says. “When your mother called me to tell me your daddy was gone, I dropped to my knees and thanked God that she was finally rid of that piece of shit.”
My stomach churns, bile creeping up the back of my throat as I stand here, helplessly listening to my only living relative, the woman that raised me, spew pure hatred about my beloved daddy. I want to yell at her to stop, to shut up, but I all I can do is stand before her frozen, my fingers squeezing Bronn’s painfully hard, and hope that she’ll finish her rant soon.
“God punished her for him, you know. That’s why the cancer took her. Spent her whole life paying for that man. And now, you!” she snaps, her cloudy gaze jerking toward Bronn.
“Getting involved with a man that’s no better than your daddy was.”
Her gaze roams over him once more, and I want to move to stand in front of him, to be a shield against her words. But my body in front of his wouldn’t stop his ears from hearing the hatred, so I don’t move, just grasp his hand even tighter and hope that his skin is thicker than mine.
“Look at him, Grace. He’s never going to amount to anything. He’s scum. And he’s going to turn you into scum right along with him.”
Bronn’s face is a mask that I’ve never seen before, his eyes void of emotion, but he clears his throat, and when he speaks his voice is strong and steady. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Monroe. Grace has told me so much about you.”
Nana clucks and then rolls her eyes. “Don’t you dare speak to me, boy.”
“Nana!” I scold, horrified and having had enough of her bullshit for one day. “You don’t know anything about him. You’re making assumptions. Incorrect assumptions, Nana!”
I take a step forward, wanting to grab her by the shoulders and shake her. Make her shut up and listen to me for once in her life. If I could just talk to her, tell her about Bronn, maybe I could make her see that she is wrong about him. And that even if she is right, it doesn’t fucking matter, because I don’t need a man from a wealthy family. I don’t need someone that she deemed acceptable.
I just need a man that cares about me.
I just need Bronn.
“Get out!” she screeches, her eyes wild. “Get out and don’t you ever bring that trash back to my house, do you understand me, Grace!”
Unable to stop them, the tears that I had been fighting roll down my cheeks as I stand, rooted in place, feeling like the child that could never please her grandmother all over again.
It is a familiar scene, me crying while she ranted and raved.
“And dry those tears, girl. You’re just as weak as your mother. I wasted my entire life raising you two worthless women.”
Unable to stand listening for one more second, a sob escapes my lips as I turn and sprint for the door. Bronn follows me down the hall, not speaking as I run out of the mansion that I grew up in.
I don’t slow down despite being in heels and a dress, only stopping when I reach my car. Breathing heavily, more from the horrible visit than from the sprint, I bend at the waist, my hands on my knees.
Bronn finally reaches me, his footsteps heavy, and when I feel him behind me I whirl, throwing myself into his arms. Arms that don’t hesitate to wrap around me and pull me in close, even though my grandmother just berated him.
Holding me tightly, he doesn’t offer any words of comfort, just lets me cry, knowing that nothing he could say would make me feel better.
While I know I should ask him if he’s okay, that I should apologize for her, for bringing him here, for being stupid enough to think that this would go any other way than it did, I can’t stop the sobs long enough to speak.
As I continue to selfishly let him comfort me, the words that Nana left me with play on a loop in my head.