As if this situation needed one more curveball. Now I had to worry about whether Uncle Walt had an ulterior motive in this whole thing. The idea of one more person dictating my life, even if the intention was good, sent me reeling. My divorce had put me through enough scheming to last a lifetime. Apparently, a simple fresh start was too much to ask.
We both picked away at our food, avoiding each other’s gaze, neither of us saying a word. Finally, we gave up, boxed up our breakfasts and headed for the truck.
The drive back to the cabin was tense. Grant’s hands weretight on the steering wheel, and the radio remained silent.
It was just as well. I was still processing what Ma had said.
Uncle Walt might have done this on purpose.
For me, or for Grant, or for both of us, I wasn’t sure. I hadn’t really thought of him as a matchmaker. Maybe since he cared about both of us and had never gotten along with Chad, it could be true. He knew about the divorce; he knew I would need a fresh start once I was on the other side of it.
But still, would he do this?
It was a strange way to try to bring two people together. It could just as easily lead to an ugly lawsuit as a marriage proposal. Then again, he knew both of us well. It was possible he knew neither of us was vindictive enough to make this ugly. Maybe he just wanted us to spend time together to see what would happen.
Or Grant’s letter wasn’t real.
Or the will was out of date.
Or Uncle Walt’s memory had been going, and he’d forgotten he’d already left the cabin to me in the will.
Or, or, or, or…
There was so much to consider. But it came down to two things:
Who actually owned the cabin?
And what did all this mean for whatever was developing between Grant and me?
I needed a new relationship like a kick in the head, but the heat between us had turned from arguments to sex so quickly, maybe there was something there.
God, I hated this uncertainty.
When we got back to the cabin, I turned to face him, leaning against the worn countertop. “If he did this whole thing just totry to set us up, then the letter you have must be fake.”
“So you think I’m lying?” He tossed his boots off with more force than necessary.
“No, I mean Uncle Walt just wrote the letter to facilitate whatever he had in mind.”
I was just thinking out loud, not thinking about how he’d take it until he rounded on me. “That’s what you think? He’d throw us together but ultimately leave the place to you.” His voice was sharp. “I cared for him, his house, and Tuck for a year. You think after all of that he would lie about leaving me his home?”
My face flushed. “Of course not. I’m just saying if this was all a ploy, then the letter could be a prop.”
His face hardened. “How do you know the will isn’t fake?”
I was fucking this up. “Because it came directly from his lawyer. Clearly he thought you were lonely and—”
“I wasn’t lonely,” he said, his voice deadly calm. “Tuck and Walt and I got along just fine. The three of us.” He paused. “Until the three of us became two.” I could almost see him physically shrink at the memory of losing Uncle Walt.
My heart sank. I was trying to smooth this over, trying to figure out what the hell was going on, and instead I was slamming straight into every wall he had. Reinforcing them and building them higher. “Yeah, well, I was fine in my marriage until I wasn’t, so why the hell did he think we were both lonely enough to cook up this scheme?”
He puffed himself back up, his eyes hardening. “I don’t know where Ma got this idea, but I know that Walt appreciated what I did for him and he wouldn’t want to uproot me and Tuck after he was gone. End of story.”
“Then why is there a will and a letter?”
“How would I know?” he snapped. “I didn’t even know aboutthe will until Friday. A will I still haven’t seen a copy of, by the way.”
I bristled. “You think I’m lying about the will?”
