Crises in Love (Zora and Jaylan) novel Chapter 372

I glanced at Gemma, who stood there spinning tall tales as if her mouth was a merry-go-round of fibs. Her words made about as much sense as a screen door on a submarine.

Wasn't her son dead? And now, out of the blue, she's spinning yarns about how he didn’t think about settling down.

The reason I brought it up was because of what Jaylan mentioned last night when he caught up with Gemma. He’d been mighty clear, "If you can’t do even this, then prepare to pack your bags! But before you go, return what you took from me. Fair’s fair, right? I'm under no obligation to buy your son a car or a house!"

That's when my suspicions kicked in. I distinctly remembered Gemma claiming her son had died of leukemia.

And now, here she was, suggesting he lived like a king on Jaylan's dime. It was as if she thought he could just rise from the grave at the drop of a hat, all based on her say-so.

As soon as I quizzed her, sure enough, she said her son was a layabout.

This woman was sure full of nonsense.

I let out a nonchalant "Oh?" and didn’t call her out, deciding to let her train of lies chug along.

I'd store these words up and throw them back in her face when the time was right.

"We haven't had a youngster that age around for years," Gemma cooed at Carl, who was busy swatting her hand like it was a fly. "Kids that age know how to charm you and win hearts. Give it a few more years, and they're as welcome as a skunk at a lawn party."Gemma said so as she teased Carl.

"Got any little kids that age in the family, Gemma?" I asked with a hint of mischief.

"Oh, there's a little one in the family alright, already in grade school!" I caught her eye and knew right away she was talking about Marissa's kid.

"Looks like you’ve got a soft spot for the little ones," I prodded further. "So why aren't you nannying for your relatives?"

"Well, they're quite the precious cargo!" She said, sneaking a peek at me.

I feigned ignorance, not keen on unraveling her tangle of tales any further.

Her stories were as disjointed as a jigsaw puzzle with missing pieces. I figured she started by trying to earn my sympathy, but now that she was more comfortable, the lies were finally revealed.

Noticing Carl rubbing his eyes and yawning, I mentioned to Helga, "We should tuck him in. Looks like bedtime's calling."