"Maybe we should just tell him," I finally say. "Get it over with. I'm tired of hiding, of worrying about what’s going to happen when we actually tell him.”
"If he knows, or even strongly suspects, we need to tell him before he figures it out completely," Grant says. "We can't let him discover this on his own. It’ll be so much worse."
I shake my head, panic rising in my body. “But then I feel like I’m not ready. You saw what happened with Samantha and then Victoria. I can't handle another confrontation right now, especially not with my father."
"I know, baby." Grant pulls me back into his arms. “Let me rub your back for you. I want to help you relax. It’s not good for you or the babies to get so upset.”
I give him a small smile. “You know I’m never going to turn down a back rub from you, right?”
“Good. I was hoping you’d say yes.”
I move between his legs on the couch, facing out toward the windows and he begins to knead my shoulders. His hands are magic, finding every knot in my shoulders. I let out a small groan as his thumbs press into a particularly tight spot near my shoulder blade.
"God, that feels amazing," I murmur, letting my head fall forward.
"You're so tense," Grant says, his thumbs pressing firmly along my spine.
“I’m not surprised. That whole situation was rough.”
We’re quiet for a few minutes before he starts laughing about something.
“What? What’s funny?” I ask.
"Nothing. I've just been dealing with this ridiculous client this week. And I was thinking about the whole thing."
"Tell me," I say, closing my eyes as his hands move to my lower back.
"His name is Horatio Beauchamp," Grant says, and I can hear the amusement in his voice. "And yes, that's his real name. He inherited a bunch of money from his grandfather and now fancies himself a real estate mogul."
"Horatio?" I can't help but smile. "Seriously?"
"It gets better. He insists everyone call him 'H.B.' and he only wears purple suits. Not just purple ties or purple shirts—entire suits in various shades of purple."
I laugh. "You're totally making this up."
"I wish I was." Grant's fingers find another knot, and I wince as he begins working it out. "Yesterday he showed up to our meeting in a lavender three-piece suit with purple crocodile shoes, and he made a big deal about the fact that they were real crocodile. And he brought his emotional support hairless cat."
"His what?" I twist around to look at Grant, convinced hehasto be messing around with me.
“He’s got a hairless cat named Clem. The two of them are quite the pair.”
“So, wait a minute, does he have a purse for him or is he on a leash, or what?” I ask, still wondering if he’s just toying with me.
“Clem rides in style in a really fancy Italian leather bag,” I respond.
We’re completely cracking up now while he tells me all about their meeting. Between the back rub and the laugh, I’m feeling so much better. I take in a deep cleansing breath.
"Thank you," I say as his hands finally release my back. "You have no idea how much I needed that."
I turn around on the couch, facing him now. Without overthinking it, I move to straddle his lap, my knees oneither side of his thighs. His hands automatically find my hips, steadying me.
"Emma," he breathes, but I don't let him finish. I lean in and press my lips against his, softly at first, then with increasing urgency. He responds immediately, one hand sliding up my back while the other cups my face. The kiss deepens, and I feel that familiar heat spreading through my body.
"I love you," I whisper against his mouth. "So much."
His hands tangle in my hair as he pulls me closer. "I love you too," he murmurs between kisses. "More than I can say."
I can feel him hardening beneath me, and I shift my hips deliberately, making him groan. The worries about my father, about what he might know or suspect—they're still there, hovering at the edges of my consciousness, but right now all I can focus on is Grant's mouth on mine, and his hands exploring my body like he can barely wait to be inside me.
