Desmond: God, I love you. Hurry up and accept me already!
I bite my bottom lip at the message, smiling even though I think the most normal reaction should be grimacing and wondering why I'm tormenting Desmond with my silence. Devilish, I know, but I've been so busy for the past weeks, I wouldn't be surprised if I fainted any day soon.
"Come in," comes my grandma's voice after my third knock on her door.
I walk inside, flinching at the statue right next to her door. It looks exactly like her but with some Greek roots twerk to it—and there she is, martini in hand, dressed in her morning gown with hair tied in a towel. Either she just came from a bath, or she's just enjoying her money, whatever it is, I love it.
"You're late."
"By a minute," I remind her, checking my watch.
"Still late."
