Then again… what would be the cost if shedidn’ttell him?
Eliza vacillated between the two options almost as regularly as the passing of each hour in the day, torn between her desire to tell the truth and her dread of the consequences.
“Ben…” Eliza turned to face her son in the back seat. “What do you think about sharing our special family tradition with Grant?”
“Yay!” He unclipped his seat belt with gusto. “Today?”
“Yep. We need to spend a little time on homework first. Then we’ll set everything up in the backyard.”
With a huge grin stretched across his face, Ben scrambled out of the car and raced inside, hopping up the porch steps two at a time.
Chuckling, Eliza followed. She’d never seen him in a bigger hurry to do his homework.
As Ben settled at the dining room table with a glass of apple juice and his first assignment, Eliza pulled out her phone. Her fingers hovered over the keys.
Once she sent the text, there would be no going back. They’d never invited anyone into their quirky tradition before. Not her parents, not Luke and Cassie. No one. Maybe they weren’t ready for this step?
“Do you think Grant’ll like it?” Ben set down his pencil and took a big gulp of apple juice. His dark eyes held hers, so full of hope and earnestness.
Eliza melted. “Of course he will, Bug. He’ll love it.”
After sending Grant the text, telling him when and where to meet them, Eliza said a silent prayer she was right. Because the only thing worse than having her heart broken…
Was breaking her son’s.
* * *
As Grant rounded the corner of the Carters’ home toward the backyard, his heart thudded louder than boot stompers in a dance hall.
Eliza’s text couldn’t have been more ambiguous.
That’d be great. Meet us in the backyard in one hour. Wear grungy clothes and flip-flops.
That was it. No explanation. Not even a hint as to what he could expect.
So, here he was… toting an easel and bag of art supplies with no clue why Eliza wanted him to meet them in the backyard. With a strange dress code, no less.
Shifting the tote bag to his other shoulder, Grant eased open the side gate. A familiar high-pitched squeak emanated from the rusty hinges. But that’s where the similarities to his youthful memories ended.
Grant noticed the huge play set first, with its spiral slide and double swings. A new addition for Ben’s sake, no doubt. A portable soccer net occupied one corner of the expansive lawn next to a tetherball set. More toys Grant didn’t remember.
Then his gaze fell on Eliza. More specifically, on her tanned, toned legs clad in white denim cutoff shorts.
When he realized his mouth had fallen open, Grant snapped it shut, tearing his gaze from her legs to her bare arms, finally registering the bright pink water balloon clutched in her hand. By her side, clothed in a faded T-shirt and swim trunks, Ben gripped a green balloon, a goofy grin splashed across his face.
“What’s going on?” Setting his belongings in the grass, Grant took a step closer, squinting at the huge canvas tarp beneath their bare feet.
“Well… Since you’ve been so generous sharing your love of art with Ben, we decided to let you in on one of our favorite art projects.” Eliza turned to her son. “Right, Ben?”
“Right,” Ben snickered, barely able to contain his giggle.
“Art project?” Grant cast a curious glance at three five-gallon paint buckets filled with water balloons.
“Should we show him?” Eliza asked Ben, her dark eyes glinting mischievously.
Ben nodded, his grin widening as he wound his right arm, the water balloon poised and ready.
Grant instinctively took a step back.
