They stood there, breath fogging between them, the weight of unspoken things pressing down.
"Maybe that's okay," Grant said finally. "Maybe it's easier if it feels a little bit real. It’s definitely more convincing."
"Is it? Because I almost forgot it wasn't last night."
"It was the same for me. Then we'll remind each other."
"Will we?"
Grant didn't answer. Because the truth was, he'd already forgotten. He'd forgotten the second he'd pulled her close at the reunion. Maybe even before that.
Riley stepped closer. "Grant."
"Yeah?"
"Thank you. For doing this with me. For putting up with all the insanity."
She reached up and touched his face—just her fingertips, cold against his cheek. Grant's heart stopped.
"We're going to be okay," she whispered. "Right?"
He wanted to say yes. Wanted to promise her everything would work out fine.
But all he could do was nod, his voice trapped somewhere between his chest and throat.
Riley pulled her hand back and smiled—small and unsure. "I should go. It's late."
"Yeah. Okay."
He walked her back to her car, neither of them speaking. At the driver's door, she paused.
"My mom asked if I could pick up a wreath tomorrow. For the house." She bit her lip. "Would it be weird if I came by the farm? I know it's your busiest time?—"
"It's not weird," Grant said quickly. "Come by. Anytime."
"You sure?"
"Riley, you can come by whenever you want. You don't need an excuse. And I’d be pissed if you didn’t get things like that from me."
Her cheeks went pink and she giggled. "Okay. Tomorrow then. Around eleven?"
"Eleven works."
She climbed in and drove away, and Grant stood in the driveway long after her taillights disappeared.
You're in love with her.
The thought should have scared him.
Instead, it just felt inevitable.
Like coming home.
SEVEN
Riley
Riley drove to the farm with her stomach in knots and a thermos of coffee she'd barely touched.
