Grim Expectations (Aisling Grimlock Book 5) Page 8

“OH, GOD!”

  I thought I was dying when I woke up. I turned to my side, my stomach threatening to betray me. It took me a moment to remember where I was and how I got there. When my forehead slammed into the porcelain base of the toilet, I had no choice but to remember.

  “You’re okay,” Griffin said, pressing a cold washcloth to the back of my neck as he knelt beside me. I vaguely remembered him stretching out on the floor with me, but I passed out seconds later. “I have more aspirin and water for you.”

  “I … did you sleep here with me all night?”

  Griffin nodded. “Yes, and my back is killing me,” he said. “I’m too old for that, so you need to learn to control your alcohol intake. Can you sit up?”

  “I … maybe.”

  Griffin chuckled as he sat on the floor next to me. He didn’t seem particularly perturbed by my predicament. “Try for me, baby.”

  I struggled to a sitting position, having to center myself twice before achieving my goal. I could feel my hair standing on end as I rested my cheek against the toilet seat. Griffin was silent as he opened the bottle of aspirin and tapped two capsules into the palm of my hand. He seemed to reconsider after studying them for a moment and added another two.

  “Wash those down,” Griffin instructed, opening a bottle of water and handing it to me.

  I was so dehydrated I guzzled the entire thing down, not stopping even when water dripped out of the corners of my mouth and ended up all over the front of my shirt. Instead of being grossed out, Griffin smirked.

  “I’ve never loved you more,” he teased.

  I risked a glance in the mirror on the door and cringed. My eye makeup was smudged halfway down my cheeks so I looked like the Hamburglar on a bender and my hair stuck out in a multitude of directions. “Are you sure?” I croaked. “I would think you would take one look at this and run in the other direction.”

  “I’m sure,” Griffin said, pressing the washcloth against my neck. “Do you think you can still go shopping today? I’ll call Jerry and tell him you’re too hungover if you don’t want to go. He saw how much you drank. I’m sure he’d believe it.”

  “I’m tempted,” I admitted. “I can’t, though. I’m too worried that Mom will take Jerry shopping without me. I have to watch him.”

  “I understand that,” Griffin said. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried about you being off your game during an outing with your mother, though. If you want, I can go with you. We can just tell her I want to be part of the shopping extravaganza.”

  I waved off his offer. “That’s sweet, but I don’t think she’s stupid enough to try anything today,” I said. “She’s trying to get me to trust her. She’s won’t do that if she attacks on the first day.”

  “I guess that’s true,” Griffin said, his fingers gentle as they massaged my neck. “Can you do me a favor and text me every hour or so, though? I want to know that you’re safe.”

  “Absolutely. I’ll even make them dirty texts.”

  “I can live with that,” Griffin said, pushing my hair from my face as I placed my cheek against the seat. “We need to talk about the other thing.”

  “What other thing?”

  “Thanksgiving with my mother.” Griffin clearly wasn’t up for one of my notorious diversion tactics. I guess I couldn’t blame him after what I put him through the previous evening. “You didn’t think I forgot about that, did you?”

  “I was kind of hoping,” I admitted. “You don’t owe me an explanation. It’s fine. I wouldn’t take me to meet your mother either.”

  “That’s not what’s going on,” Griffin said. “I don’t want you to think that for one second. I wanted to tell you last night, but you refused to leave the room with me and I didn’t want to say anything in front of your mother.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “It’s not okay,” Griffin argued. “You need to stop doing that. When you’re upset, there’s no reason to blow it off. You have an opinion and I want to hear it. Whatever you’re thinking about Thanksgiving, though, I can guarantee it’s wrong.”

  “Oh, well, that’s a promising start to a morning full of feelings and emotions,” I joked.

  Griffin mustered a half-hearted smile, but just barely. “I want to introduce you to my mother and she was insistent when she invited us to Thanksgiving dinner,” he said. “I declined, though, because I think we’re needed here. I don’t want to take you away from your family when so much is going on.”

  It was a sweet sentiment. I still wasn’t convinced. “I wouldn’t blame you for being embarrassed. I mean … look at me.”

  “Yeah, well, I happen to love you,” Griffin said. “I’m not embarrassed at all. I just feel there’s too much going on here for us to take off for a few days. I don’t like the idea of splitting up your family. It’s bad enough Cillian is going. If we leave, too, that puts your father down several members of his army should your mother make a move. I’m not willing to do that.”

  I couldn’t help but feel relieved when I saw the honesty reflected in his eyes. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure,” Griffin confirmed. “You’re going to meet my mother. I promise you that.”

  “Do you think she’ll like me?”

  Griffin shrugged. “She’ll like you more than your father liked me the first time we met. I don’t really care, though. I only care how I feel about you … and I’m pretty much whipped as far as you’re concerned. Yes, I know your brothers say that about me.”

  I couldn’t help but giggle. He really was a good guy. I hit the jackpot with him. “I’m sorry about last night.”

  “Forget about it,” Griffin said, waving off my apology. “We all have bad nights. You’re going through a lot and it’s almost more than any one person should have to put up with. I understand.”

  “I’m not sure I do, but I don’t feel like thinking about heavy things when my head is pounding,” I said. “I don’t suppose we could head over to the other townhouse and see if Jerry has made breakfast, could we?”

  “I think we should shower first, but yeah,” Griffin said. “That’s the plan.”

  “Awesome. Can you help me up?”

  Griffin smirked as he slipped his arms around my waist and hoisted me to a standing position. At first I thought I was going to topple over, but he held firm and I finally regained my equilibrium.

  “Better?”

  I nodded. “Thank you … for everything.”

  “You don’t have to thank me,” Griffin said. “I love you. This is what happens when you love someone.”

  “It’s the gift that keeps on giving,” I teased.

  “Oh, you’re going to owe me a gift later when you’re feeling better,” Griffin countered. “That’s the gift that keeps on giving.”

  I WAS IN much better spirits by the time we hit the front porch. My hair was still wet and my face was devoid of makeup, but I felt like an actual person. In an hour, my hangover would be nothing but a bad memory.

  I pulled up short when I saw a yellow envelope on the porch. “What’s that?”

  “I have no idea,” Griffin said, scooping up the envelope and flipping it over. “It’s addressed to you.”

  “Me?” I studied the handwriting for a moment and then took it from him. I didn’t recognize the flowery script. “Why would someone send something to me here? I haven’t changed my address yet.”

  “No one sent it,” Griffin pointed out. “There’s no postage. That means someone dropped it off.”

  “But who?”

  “Open it,” Griffin prodded, watching as I ripped open the envelope and reached inside.

  I creased my forehead as my fingers came into contact with something cold and metal, and when I pulled out the item I found myself staring at a silver disc.

  “What is that?” Griffin asked.

  I shrugged. “I have no idea. I don’t recognize it.”

  Griffin took it from me and flipped it over, returning it after a few minutes of careful study. “
It doesn’t look dangerous. Are you sure you don’t know what it is?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Well, maybe it was a mistake or something,” Griffin said. “Maybe it’s some weird form of artwork and someone dropped it off as a housewarming gift.”

  “Maybe.” That didn’t sound right to me. “I’ll show it to Cillian to be on the safe side. He’d be the mostly likely one to know what this is.”

  “That can’t hurt either,” Griffin said. “For now, put it in the envelope. I need to get some breakfast in you if you’re going to make it through an entire day of shopping with Jerry and your mother.”

  “Is that a dig at me or them?”

  Griffin smiled. “Both.”

  I wanted to argue, but I couldn’t. “I hope he made eggs,” I said, hopping off the porch and heading toward the other townhouse. “I’m going to need a lot of grease if I’m expected to survive this.”

  “Something tells me you’ll survive no matter what,” Griffin said. “You’re the strongest person I know.”

  “Oh, that’s sweet.”

  “And if your strength doesn’t hold out, you always have your mouth to fall back on,” Griffin added. “That never fails.”

  “That sweetness comes and goes, huh?”

  “I’m a work in progress,” Griffin said, patting my rear end as he prodded me toward the door. “Now, come on. I’m hungry, too. Something tells me we’re both going to have a long day.”

  9

  Nine

  “Oh, isn’t this lovely?”

  Mom held up a pink bowl and cradled it in her hands as Jerry made approving noises and I tried to keep the remnants of last night’s drinking spree from making a second appearance. We stood in the center of Macy’s, Mom and Jerry laden down with purchases while I held one bag and glared at the bowl. She didn’t know me at all if she thought I’d ever put that in my home.

  “What is that even for?” I asked, tugging on my limited patience as I tried to refrain from exploding. “What do you eat in that? Ice cream?”

  Mom made a face as Jerry dramatically covered his eyes.

  “It’s for the center of a table, Aisling,” Mom said, keeping her smile in place even though I saw her eyes flash with irritation. I was having more fun seeing how many of her buttons I could push rather than picking out items for the townhouse. Hey, we all have to get our giggles somewhere.

  “What table?”

  “The living room table.”

  “Huh. Well, our living room is going to be gray and I don’t like the color pink.”

  Mom’s smile slipped. “Okay,” she said, returning the bowl to the shelf. “I’m sure we can find something gray. Oh, but that’s such a drab color. Don’t you want to punch up the townhouse with some nice pastels or something?”

  “Not really,” I replied dryly. “I’ve never considered myself much of a pastel girl.”

  “That’s true,” Jerry offered. “I bought her a pink shirt once and she used it to dry dishes. I was legitimately torn because I’d never seen her do dishes before and I didn’t want to discourage her from doing household chores.”

  Mom giggled as she shot Jerry an adoring look. I found it irksome and cute at the same time. When we were growing up, Mom doted on Jerry. She seemed to understand how hard it would be for him to fit in with a bunch of entitled jerkoffs watching his every move. She was that way with Aidan, too. She never once made a fuss about either of them being gay. She merely listened when they had problems and did the best she could to help them. Whatever stood in front of me briefly reminded me of that woman, but it didn’t last long.

  “What color is your bedroom going to be?” Mom asked, changing topics. “You said the living room is going to be gray. What about the bedroom?”

  “It’s purple. The kitchen is yellow. The office is white because that’s what Griffin wanted and that’s going to be his escape room for when I’m too much to bear.”

  Mom pursed her lips. “I see.”

  “What?”

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  “No, but you had a certain tone,” I said. “That was a loaded ‘I see.’ I’m not an idiot.”

  “You’re definitely not an idiot,” Mom said. “In fact, I often worried that you were too smart for your own good when you were a child. Other than Cillian, you’re the brightest of your siblings. He’s much more book smart than you, but you read people better.”

  Was that supposed to be a compliment? If it was, I didn’t think Redmond, Aidan and Braden would see it that way. “I can’t wait to tell the others I’m smarter than them,” I said. “I think I might wear a crown when I do it.”

  This time Mom didn’t bother to hide her scowl. “Do you always have to be so difficult?”

  “I was born this way. You should know. You’re the one who gave birth to me.”

  “And I always knew you would be difficult,” Mom said, placing her hands on her hips. I recognized the stance from when I was younger. It meant I was about to get a lecture. Great. That’s just what I needed when I had a hangover. “Aisling, I know you’re struggling with everything and I don’t blame you for being angry. Perhaps we should talk about the root of your mistrust instead of skirting the issue. How does that sound?”

  “That sounds worse than a rectal exam,” I shot back. “I don’t want to talk about my feelings. Just for the record, I never want to talk about my feelings.”

  “Oh, I remember that,” Mom sniffed. “I thought you’d outgrow it.”

  “I guess not.”

  “Okay, I feel things getting tense,” Jerry said, stepping between us. “Mrs. Grimlock, you should know that Aisling is very good when it comes to talking about her feelings … as long as you get her liquored up first.”

  “Perhaps I should buy some vodka,” Mom suggested.

  Ugh. Even the mention of alcohol was enough to make my stomach turn. “I’ll pass.”

  “Yes, you certainly had enough for the entire family last night,” Mom said. “You and your father were quite the … role models … for everyone else.”

  “Don’t ever speak badly about my father,” I warned, extending a finger. “He’s a good man. Sure, he’s a pain in the butt when he wants to be, but that appears to be a family trait. He’s the one who stuck around and raised us. He’s the one who took care of us and helped us get through your … convalescence.”

  “That’s a lovely way of putting it, but that’s not what happened,” Mom argued. “I didn’t leave you. I was taken.”

  “And that’s a terrible thing,” I acknowledged. “I’m sorry for what happened. You’ll never know how sorry I am. Believe it or not, I don’t blame you for any of this. That doesn’t mean I can ignore everything else.”

  “And what is everything else?” Mom challenged. “Tell me, Aisling, what is it you think I’m doing?”

  My hangover made me short-tempered. Er, even more short-tempered than usual. That wasn’t a good thing for my mother. “Do you really want me to tell you?”

  “No,” Jerry answered hurriedly. He sensed my emotions were about to unravel and he didn’t want to deal with the fallout. “She doesn’t want to hear it.”

  “I want to hear it,” Mom snapped. “Tell me, Aisling. Tell me what I’ve been doing.”

  “You’re eating people,” I shot back, earning a curious look from a gray-haired woman one aisle over. I opted to ignore her instead of lowering my voice. “I know that’s how you’re staying alive. You can deny it, but I won’t believe you.”

  “I’m not eating people,” Mom said, her voice low. “I’m … doing what I have to do to survive. If you think part of that involves me murdering people, though, you’re wrong.”

  I could read between the lines. She was admitting to sucking souls. Sure, she might be finding people close to death and absorbing their life essence that way, but that was hardly without its own set of repercussions. “And what about the people you’re absorbing?” I challenged. “You’re taking their afterlives from the
m. They never get a chance to move on.”

  “I only pick bad people,” Mom hissed, her cheeks flushing with color. “I don’t hurt good people.”

  “Oh, well, that makes it totally okay,” I deadpanned. “You’re like Robin Hood. You steal from the bad to give to … well … yourself.”

  “And what if I am?”

  She asked the question as if I was wrong for accusing her. That was rich. “Oh, you make me want to throw up. You’re just … unbelievable.”

  “Okay, you’re unbelievable, too,” Jerry said, grabbing my arm. “Mrs. Grimlock, I’m going to take Aisling to look at the bathroom stuff. Why don’t you look at the kitchen stuff and we’ll meet you over there? How does that sound?”

  Mom stared me down for a moment and then her expression softened when she regarded Jerry. “That sounds lovely.”

  “Great,” Jerry gritted out, dragging me across the floor even though I wanted to press my mother further on her new habits. I refused to look at Jerry until he pushed himself in front of me and cut off my view of my mother. “What is the matter with you?”

  Oh, well, there were so many ways to answer that question. “For starters, my head feels as if it’s caught in a vise and my stomach burns like one of those creatures from Alien spit in it.”

  “You did that to yourself,” Jerry shot back, his annoyance obvious. “That is your mother, Bug. You spent ten years mourning and missing her. You’ve finally gotten her back. Why don’t you want to give her a chance?”

  I love Jerry beyond reason, but sometimes he doesn’t see what’s right in front of him, and I find that grating. “You heard her, Jerry,” I said, adopting a quiet tone. “She’s eating people.”

  “Bad people.”

  “That doesn’t make it okay,” I argued. “Plus, I’m not sure I believe that. What happens if she makes a mistake? She’s not privy to our files, at least that I know about. She has no idea what kind of history she’s dealing with when she does this. Do you honestly think she doesn’t chow down if the person tells her they’re innocent?”

  Jerry appeared startled by the question so I decided to plow forward.