Facade of Love (Yvette Scott and Idris Young)
Chapter 215

Chapter 215 Going to the Old Manor

Idris squinted those killer eyes, his voice low and kinda hypnotic, "You know, if you stop with the hexes, I might just hold up alright."

Seriously?

I thought he had a concussion. How did he look like nothing was wrong?

Seeing that he was okay and nothing serious was wrong, I said, "If you're fine, I've got stuff to do, so I'm heading out."

I was about to leave when the guy stepped in front of me. I looked up at him, my eyebrows knitting together. "Anything else?"

He gazed down at me, his voice surprisingly soothing. "Grandma's getting out of the hospital today, and I'm supposed to pick her up. What do you think I should tell her if she asks about this injury? How should I explain it?"

I frowned, annoyed, but kept my cool and said with patience, "Just spit it out. What do you need from me?"

He could tell I was losing my patience, so he got to the point. "Come with me to get Grandma from the hospital, then we'll head to the old manor."

"I'll go with you to get Grandma, but staying at the old manor? Look, we're divorced. Grandma's going to have to learn about it sooner or later." I could not for the life of me understand why he had to make a simple thing so complicated.

He narrowed his eyes, did not reply, and after a long pause, he said coldly, "If you don't want to go, then go take care of your own business."

With that, he turned his tall, imposing figure around and walked away. I stood there for a second, frowning. Was he really giving in that easily?

As I watched him leave, all that was left for me was the sight of his bandaged head. I bit my lip, shook off the confusion, and walked out of the hospital.

Down in the parking lot, I'd just gotten into my car when my phone started ringing. It was Madam Young from the Young family.

I answered, polite as always, "Grandma, how are you feeling?"

Her voice came through the phone, "Much better, dear. I'm being discharged today. Yvette, what are you off to now? Iddy told me you came by the hospital and then left. Did you two have a fight?"

I could not figure out why Idris had dashed off so suddenly earlier, but now it clicked -he had gone to see Madam Young.

I bit my lip, fighting the urge to go off about guys, and after a quick think, I said, "Nope, we didn't fight. I'm just swamped with stuff right now. Sorry, Grandma, but I might not make it to pick you up from the hospital today."

"Don't worry about it, dear, you just do what you need to do. I'm fine," Madam Young reassured me, repeating 'I'm fine' a few times before adding, "Yvette, once you're done, come over to the old manor for dinner, okay? I've had Mr. Zachary spruce up the yard, so it'll be nice

Chapter 215 Going to the Old Manor

and lively when you get back."

2/2

Her voice was gentle, with an undercurrent of hope that I could not ignore. I had never been great at saying no, so all I managed was a noncommittal grunt in response.

I hung up feeling a headache coming on. By saying yes to visiting the Youngs, it felt like I was signing up to move back into the old manor, bumping into Idris at every turn, and maybe even sharing a bed again.

We were divorced, for crying out loud, and yet here we were, still tangled up in each other's lives. It was exasperating.

I took a deep breath, unable to come up with a good excuse on the spot. Madam Young had just been discharged from the hospital, and I could not be sure that if I let her down, it would not make her sick again. I'm no saint, but I did not want to be the villain either.

Feeling trapped but with no immediate solution, I decided to just play it by ear.

As soon as I got a moment, I hopped in my car and headed for my refuge, Sweety's apartment.

I had been out all night, and the moment I swung the door open, a wave of boozy stench hit me so hard I could not help but cough. Once the coughing fit passed, I scanned the room. Yesterday's dinner sat untouched on the dining table, and the living room was a graveyard of empty bottles with Sweety sprawled out on the couch like a rag doll.

She had clearly drowned her sorrows in solitude.

Shaking my head, I massaged my temples, grabbed a blanket from the bedroom to tuck her in, cleaned up the mess, and took some water from the kitchen.

Sweety did not come to until two in the afternoon, her eyes squinting against the light, her face puffy and worn from the night's excesses. It took her a moment to register my presence before she rasped, "You're back."

I set the water down before her. "Drink up, it'll settle your stomach."

She did not argue, just took the cup and sipped.

Once she seemed a bit more alive, I ventured, "You can't coop yourself up here forever. Maybe it's time to head back to the newspaper?"

She massaged her forehead, pondering. "Maybe later. Are Aunt Deb and Mr. Sanchez back yet?"

I shook my head, feeling the conversation closing up. With a quiet sigh, I asked, "Are we going to keep up this silent battle?"

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