Romantically Entangled

Chapter 32

Soooo sorry for the long wait.. Here's Chapter 32 for y'all.

Nicki

The early morning sun is lighting up my room when I open my eyes.

The fire has died, but the smoldering smell reaches me. It's comforting, somehow.

Deep, regular breathes touch my shoulder. A leg thrown over mine, and a pair of strong arms have me wrapped in a warm embrace.

I am tangled up in Bey.

I want to imprint on my memory the wonderfully heavy feel of her body coiled around mine.

I want to spend the day right here.

But I've got an 8:00 a.m. meeting with Virginia Cooke.

I stretch my hand to the nightstand to check the time on my phone. 

It's 7:35. 

Just enough time to clean up a little before I walk into the Lion's den.

I'd half-heartedly tried to talk to my grandmother about TT when we first got here Wednesday night.

She gave me a sharp, assessing look when I said my friend's name and suggested it was a conversation better left until after Thanksgiving Day.

I didn't have the nerve to argue.

Then she said she could see me at 8 sharp Friday morning, penciling me into one of the leather-bound planners she's used forever.

I slip out of Bey's embrace, careful not to wake her. She looks so peaceful in her sleep, so untroubled.

That's not always the case.

I sigh as I head for the shower.

A few minutes later, my wet hair slicked back and wearing yoga pants and a wrinkled hoodie, I head downstairs.

The light under her office door tells me that Virginia is already there. I knock, and as I enter at her summons, I wonder what it's like to have a more normal grandma.

A pillowy soft one who fills the house with the smell of baking cookies and makes you feel like you're the center of the universe.

I can tell by the slight curl of her lip as I slouch into the office that my grandmother does not approve of my attire.

Even at home, even on a holiday, Virginia Cooke is dressed immaculately, her only concession to informality being pair of tailored wool slacks and what could almost be described as comfortable shoes.

Uncharacteristically, she doesn't mention how I look.

She does, of course, let out a resigned sigh to signal her displeasure as I slip into one of the elaborately carved chairs in front of her desk.

Even more surprisingly, Virginia doesn't bring up Bey.

I'd expected her to start yelling about me dating -and living with-Mathew Knowles' daughter the moment I walked in.

Yesterday, I thought I was going to have to lunge across the Thanksgiving table to keep her from tearing Bey's eyes out.

But now, she's just sitting there wearily, waiting for me to go on.

"So...um...TT has a problem." I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry. "See...she...well, she was arrested."

My grandmother's lips compress into a tight line, and her gaze hardens.

I manage to tell her the whole story, ending with TT's request for help getting the charges dropped.

Virginia doesn't say anything for several moments, just stares hard at me, her veiny hands clasped together on the desk.