Chapter 31
Grant
I adjust my tie in the mirror for the third time, then force myself to stop. It’s fine. The tie is fine. The suit is fine.
Except it’s not the suit I usually wear to games. This one is different—charcoal gray instead of navy, with a subtle pattern in the weave that catches the light. I bought it last year, but I haven’t had the opportunity to wear it yet.
For reasons I’m not letting myself think about, I wanted to wear something special tonight.
I give myself one final look in the mirror, then head downstairs. I can hear Heather’s voice before I see her, patient but firm in that way she gets when April is being stubborn about something.
“Sweetheart, it’s just for a few hours. And you look so pretty in it.”
“But it’s itchy,” April whines. “And the sleeves are too long. Can’t I just wear my jeans?”
I round the corner into the living room and find them standing near the couch. Heather is already dressed in a dark green dress that hugs her curves in a way that makes my mouth go dry, and April is wearing what looks like a very nice dresswith lace sleeves—which she’s currently tugging at with obvious irritation.
“It’s a fancy event, sweetheart. You need to wear something nice.”
“But I don’t like it.”
I clear my throat, and they both turn to look at me. Heather’s eyes widen slightly when she sees me in the suit, and I catch the way her gaze travels down and back up before she quickly looks away.
Good to know I’m not the only one affected.
“You know,” I say, walking over to where April is standing, “I think that dress is pretty cool. Very grown-up. Almost like something a professional photographer would wear to an important event.”
April looks up at me skeptically. “Really?”
“Really. Margo has to wear stuff like this all the time when she’s working fancy team events. And you’re going to be helping your mom tonight, right? Helping make sure everything runs smoothly?”
“I guess,” April says, but I can already see her posture changing, and she’s standing a little straighter.
“Then you need to look the part. Besides, the sleeves aren’t that long. We can roll them up a little bit.” I crouch down and carefully fold up each sleeve twice, making them sit just below her elbows. “There. How’s that?”
April examines her arms, turning them back and forth. “Better,” she admits. With more enthusiasm, “Actually, it does look kind of cool now.”
“Told you.” I stand back up and catch Heather’s eye. She’s looking at me with something soft and grateful in her expression, and it takes everything in me not to cross the room and pull her into my arms.
“Thank you,” she mouths silently.
I nod, shoving my hands in my pockets to keep from reaching for her.
It’s been almost three weeks since our weekend together. Almost three weeks of stolen glances and careful distance, of making sure we’re never alone in a room with a closed door, of lying awake at night knowing she’s just down the hall and not being able to do a damn thing about it.
We’ve found a few moments here and there—a kiss in the kitchen when April was upstairs brushing her teeth, my hand on her lower back as she passed me in the hallway, and whispered words in the garage when she was getting into her car. But it hasn’t been enough.
Not even close.
I feel greedy. Starving. I’ve had a taste of something incredible, and now I can’t stop thinking about it, craving it, needing it.
“Okay, we should get going soon,” Heather says, pulling out her phone to check the time. “I need to be there early to make sure everything is set up properly. But you don’t have to come with us now, Grant. The event doesn’t start for another two hours. You could come later with the rest of the guys.”
“I don’t mind coming now,” I say, probably a little too quickly.
She looks up at me, surprised. “Are you sure? You’ll just be sitting around while I run around like a crazy person making sure the caterers are set up and the tables are arranged correctly and?—”
“I can help.”
