She laughs for real this time. “And what, exactly, are you up to with all of this time suddenly on your hands?”
Guilt claws on top of the heat.
I don’t like lying to Mimi, but I’m failing spectacularly at vengeance against an old bully since I’m done being shit on by the people who are supposed to love me or at least not hate me isn’t something I’ll be telling her. And as much as we’ve researched and believe in the idea of the kombucha bar, we wouldn’t be on this path, in this place, without the initial vengeance part.
“I’m going to a different beach,” I report.
I was technically on a different beach about two weeks ago.
Zen glares harder at me.
“You’re at the beach now?” There’s a tinge of excitement in her voice that I haven’t heard in ages, and it makes me feel even more like slime. “Which beach? I’d consider a beach even if the people were too old or young if you were there.”
“I’m not there yet.”
If Zen’s glare gets any hotter, they’ll melt the windows.
I clear my throat. “Just finishing up a few things, and then I’ll be on my way.”
“Which beach?” Mimi repeats.
“Haven’t decided yet.”
“When will you decide?”
“Soon.”
It’s about forty-ish degrees outside.
Ever since I landed myself in that ambulance right after Vince told me he’d made us a lot of money by selling my research, my fingers and toes have gone numb at any temperature under sixty degrees.
But right now, I’m sweating.
I’m sweating, and I can’t shed layers fast enough.
The only other time I’ve been this warm in a cold place was when Sabrina was straddling me at the gazebo the other night.
“Well, you let me know when you decide,” Mimi says. “And then you let me know if you have room for an old lady to tag along.”
“You know I always do.”
“Is Zen with you?”
“Would they be anywhere else?”
“Good. I like knowing you have each other.”
“Want to say hi?”
“Oh, no, I spoke with them earlier today. But do give them another hug from me.”
I make direct eye contact with my nibling.
They are displeased.
They are very displeased.
Jaw working. Mulish glare. Hands curling into fists and then releasing.
They’ve added two rings to their right hand since we got here. One turquoise, one a fidget ring.
There’s little doubt who’s to blame for the necessity of a fidget ring.
That would be me.
And this unhappy Zen?
This unhappy Zen will not be satisfied by me asking a woman out on a date.
Is this because I’m lying to Mimi?
Or did I do something else?
“Always happy to pass on hugs,” I report to Mimi.
“And that’s why you’re my favorite grandson.”
“How’s your new chef working out?” Distract. Distract. Distract.
“I fired him.”
“Mimi.”
“He kept cutting my steak like I’m an invalid.”
“Did you ask him to stop?”
“Repeatedly with telekinesis. When he didn’t pick up on the vibes I was throwing down, I changed the locks.”
My brows shoot up.
If Mimi’s back on sarcasm, she must be feeling at least a little better. “Good for you for knowing what you want in a personal chef.”
“And how are you eating?” Mimi asks.
“Very well.” That, at least, is the full truth. The neighbors and various townspeople have made sure my fridge is stocked. I’m even putting some of the weight back on that I dropped right after Vince’s bombshell. Feeling like exercising again too.
“Good,” Mimi says. “You keep taking good care of yourself, and if you don’t mind an old lady tagging along, let me know when you head to the beach.”
“You’re always welcome, Mimi. Good to hear you excited about traveling again.”
“Now put Zen on. I just remembered I need to ask them something about this band they’re obsessed with.”
“Love you, Mimi.”
“Love you too, my best boy.”
I hold my phone out to Zen.
“Don’t even try to hug me right now,” they mutter darkly.
Fair.
They know I’m lying to Mimi, which is the sin of all sins.
But they’re all sunshine and happiness when they put my phone to their ear. “Hey, Mimi! Don’t tell me you forgot to mention that a hottie was hitting on you at shuffleboard.”