Grayson hands me a flute of champagne, and I bring the glass to my lips for a slow sip, hoping the booze does its job and settles some of my nerves. Looking around the room, I recognize our former medical director, Dr. Linden, and when he makes eye contact, I raise my glass in a hello. “Want to go make awkward small talk with me?” I whisper, and Grayson nods, a hand coming to rest on my lower back.
“Lead the way, baby.”
I abandon my half-empty champagne glass on the bar top, deciding that’s a better idea since I haven’t eaten today. With Grayson’s hand in mine, we slink throughthe crowd, murmuring polite excuses as we make our way to Dr. and Mrs. Linden.
“Holly,” he greets, smiling warmly at Grayson and me as we approach.
“Bradford, Claire, it’s so good to see you both.” His wife leans in for an air kiss on the cheek, and I offer a small hug. Grayson reaches out to offer both of them a firm handshake as he introduces himself.
“I’m surprised to see you up and running,” he says, bringing his glass of scotch to his mouth for a sip. His too-tight bowtie wiggling with every word.
“Oh?” I feign confusion. “I didn’t know I was down and out.”
“Well, after your health scare, dear, we had expected you to take a few months’ sabbatical.”
I hadn’t ever asked what story the hospital PR team spun about my incident. I assumed if they told me to stay silent about it, that they did the same. But as I’ve easily learned before, it’s wrong to assume.
“I can assure you my health is fine, but thank you for your concern.” Grayson’s warm hand rubs against my lower back, and I lean into his touch.
“So, Grayson,” Bradford says. “Are you a doctor at Westmont as well?”
“Oh, no.” I turn to face Grayson, laying a hand on his chest. “Grayson’s family owns an incredible farm in Copper Ridge. Four generations of Harts have kept it flourishing.” I look up at Grayson with a proud smile. “I’ve been spending all of my free time there lately, and honestly, it’s one of my favorite places to be.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Claire squeals, darting out her hand to grip Grayson’s bicep. I notice she gives a gentle squeeze in appreciation as she does. “Are you here to give a speech as well? To talk about what it’s like living in those areas?”
Grayson’s body tenses, but his face remains impassive as he gently covers her hand with his, squeezing once to remove it. “No, ma’am, I’m here to support Holly.”
I lean into his side affectionately, begging this blind woman to get the hint that he’s my significant other and not a prop to be used for tonight.
“Oh! Archie!” Claire waves a hand in the air, calling over to another couple, and we use that moment as our getaway. I tuck my arm in Grayson’s, whispering a hushed excuse me as we twist and move away from the couple.
“I’m sorry about that,” I say once they’re out of earshot. “That was incredibly rude of her.”
He exhales roughly, rubbing a palm over the back of his neck. “Not the first time I’ve heard comments like that. It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine,” I say sharply. “It’s a gross error on their part and I should’ve said that.”
“Don’t.”
That one word coming from Grayson, so firm and a little irritated, has me freezing in my spot.
“I’m sorry,” he says, exhaling roughly again. “I didn’t … I’m so uncomfortable here.” He laughs awkwardly, looking around us at the ball gowns and tuxedos. “I don’t fit in at a place like this.”
I clasp his hand in mine, squeezing once. “Honestly, neither do I.”
He looks down at me pointedly.
“I don’t think either of us do, and I’m not sad about that.”
He smiles softly. “I like you.”
Squeezing his hand again, I tug him back in the direction of the bar. “I like you, too.”
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, if I could have everyone’s attention directed to the stage, please.” Keith, our administrator, stands on the stage with a microphone in one hand and his other tucked casually into his front pocket. He goes through the motions of welcomingeveryone tonight, thanking the caterers, and making a stale joke about tipping the bartenders.
I lean into Grayson. “Sounds like it’s showtime for me. Do you want to sit at our table, or do you think you’ll hang back here for a minute?”
Grayson looks around the room, noticing that Dr. Linden is pulling out a seat for Claire at one of the tables. He then looks pointedly at Geoff, who is still standing awkwardly by the side of the bar with one of his colleagues. “I think I’ll hang out here for a bit. I’ll watch your speech from the bar, so if you start to fumble and need to find me, you’ll know where I am. Once you’re done, when the crowd is on their feet screaming for you, I’ll come sit at the table with you.”
