“What did you say?”
I pull at Andrew’s arm to get his attention, hopefully defusing the explosion before it bursts. “Can we just leave?” I plead.
“No, don’t go,” Frankie urges. He pokes his hand in our direction, taunting us, and I wish I was stronger than this shriveled-up version of myself under his scrutiny. “Tell him, Grace. Tell him who I am.”
Instead of telling Andrew the truth, I look up at him. A single tear spills from the corner of my eye. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper.
Before Andrew can process my apology, what it’s for or why it’s needed, Frankie cuts in. “I’m her husband.”
“Ex-husband,” I correct in my watery voice.
Andrew slips his arm from my grip. A step backward creates a space between us that feels like a large crater. “What?”
“I’m so sorry,” I say again, the tears now streaming down my face. “I didn’t know he was your boss. I didn’t?—”
Andrew grabs my face, cupping my cheeks between his palms. “Hey, it’s okay. Let’s go.”
I nod. His touch is careful and gentle as he slips his jacket off and drapes it over my shoulders. I watch Frankie take us in with so much disdain, I worry he’s going to cause an even bigger scene than the one we’ve already created.
Andrew moves quickly, leading me outside with his tender hands guiding me. And it’s quiet. Like a flurry of snow, a blizzard of chaos with all the unsettling quiet making me want to scream into the void.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Andrew
I didn’t realizetwo such strong emotions could lay over each other. When I saw Mr. Sheridan lay his hand on Grace, I felt like my insides were going to boil over. I could feel the little bubbles scale the walls of my stomach, spilling over the edges through a barely contained fury I managed to tamp down. And then there’s the worried side of me that aligned more with panic and sheer fear. Grace looked like she was having a nervous breakdown. An anxiety attack that rattled her from the inside. Her entire body shook, and her breathing spiked like she was trying to catch her next breath.
In that moment, I realized my concern for her trumped everything else.
I don’t know what he said to her before I saw them, but whatever it was, it rattled Grace. She’s been quiet the entire drive home, and when we finally make it into her condo, she slips off her heels and stands at the door. The blank look on her face tells me she’s replaying the events of tonight. How it went south so quickly. In the blink of an eye.
Buster runs up to us, his wide smile with his tongue hanging out an obvious reminder that dogs really don’t know how to readthe room. Still, Grace pats his head, and he nudges his snout into her thigh, adding a soft whimper.
“Hey, buddy,” I tell him, tugging at his collar. “Let’s give mommy a minute.” He obeys my command and turns back to his spot on the couch.
“Mommy?”
It came out without me even realizing, only going by what she calls herself when she’s talking to Buster. “I don’t know. It just came out,” I respond hoarsely.
She cups her hand to my jaw. “It’s cute.” Her soft smile doesn’t reach her eyes, and it cuts into my chest.
“Hey.” I stoop so my eyes meet hers. She’s trying to not let the whole night be ruined, but I can see her efforts being pulled thin. “Are you okay?”
She nods. “Sorry. I don’t really know why I’m like this.” She runs her hands through her hair and exhales a deep cleansing breath, though it does little to ease her nerves.
I pull her into an embrace, and I feel her fall into me. “It’s fine, Grace.” I pull away to look at her. She’s not crying, she stopped as soon as we got in the car, but she doesn’t look any better than when we walked out of the restaurant. “Go shower and change into something comfortable. I’ll order a pizza or something.”
“Actually,” she says with her arms wrapped around my waist. “Can you just warm up some leftovers? There should be some of that pasta you made the other night in the fridge.”
“You sure? I can get something else if you don’t want pizza.”
She nods. “I want something you made.”
I lean down to kiss her. A small gentle peck on the tip of her nose. “Yeah.”
“You know, I hardly recognized him.”
Grace is loosely holding a glass Pyrex container of carbonara over her lap. She must’ve been hungry because as soon as I set down the steaming hot container fresh out of the microwave, she devoured half of it. She looks calmer, more relaxed, though the somber look on her face hasn’t fully gone away.
