"A meeting with your parents?" Arthur's question hung in the air between us as we sat in his grandmother's sunroom.
I fidgeted with the hem of my dress. "Mrs. Dubois invited us for dinner."
Old Mrs. Sterling clapped her hands together, her eyes twinkling. "Wonderful! Family dinners are important. When can I expect great-grandchildren?"
"Grandmother!" Arthur's usually composed face flushed red.
I felt heat rush to my own cheeks. "We're not—"
"Oh, hush," the elderly woman waved dismissively. "I'm old, not blind. You two can barely keep your eyes off each other."
Arthur cleared his throat and stood up. "We should get going."
In the car, the tension from the grandmother's comments lingered. I stared out the window, watching the city blur past.
"Your grandmother is... direct," I finally said.
Arthur's lips quirked up. "That's putting it mildly."
"Does she always embarrass you like that?"
