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“You, girl,” Nan said, which was basically her version of my name. “The neckline on that dress makes you look like a floozy.” She wagged her cane at me, then grunted. “I approve.”
“I definitely, one hundred percent, entirely… would have told Rebecca,” Xander admitted. “In retrospect, good on you for not telling me. Excellent call, shows solid judgment.”
“I don’t do vulnerable,” Thea retorted. “It clashes with my bitch aesthetic.”
Xander raised his hand. “Anyone else wondering if we have a secret uncle out there no one knows about? Because at this point, secret uncle just kind of feels like it belongs on the Hawthorne bingo card.”
“Praying?” Nan grumbled. “More like giving our Maker a piece of my mind.”
“My grandfather built this chapel so Nan would have someplace to yell at God,”
“You,” I told him, taking a step closer, “have always made me bold. You’re the one who pushes me out of my comfort zone. You don’t get to box me back in now.”
“I have a professional obligation to tell you that I don’t like this plan.” I gave Oren a sympathetic look.
