Chapter Eighteen
Once everyone had settled in the living room and--hopefully--forgotten about him, Sunny made his way downstairs and into the kitchen to see if there was anything he could do to make himself useful.
He’d agreed to stay for the day, but that was in the heat of the moment, and when he’d half-expected no one to show up. Now, confronted with three strangers, all of whom had a greater claim on Grant’s time than Sunny ever would, he wasn’t sure.
It wasn’t that Sunny couldn’t share. It was that he was afraid Grant couldn’t be stretched any thinner than he already was. And that maybe Grant wouldn’t want to explain why he was treating his PA like part of the family all of a sudden.
The last thing he wanted to do was make Grant’s Christmas any more stressful than it already had been. He was supposed to be there to help.
There were a couple of dishes in the sink--things that must have been used for to prep the turkey, which was glowing under the light of the oven, but could only have been on for half an hour or so, judging by the color. Sunny rolled up his sleeves and turned the tap on, giving the water a moment to warm up.
That was the only thing this cabin really lacked. No instant hot water.
Otherwise, Sunny would have been pretty happy to hide here forever.
He could hear laughter from the living room, the sound of love and happiness. Above all of it, he could hearGrantlaughing. Laughing until he ran out of breath.
He sounded so happy.
It was enough to make Sunny smile, despite all of his sudden doubts. Everything had seemed so clear last night, but last night he’d been cold, and lonely, and dreading Christmas with his extended family.
This morning, he felt as though he was intruding. As though he could onlyeverbe an outsider in Grant’s life, and nothing would change that.
Grant hadn’t even told him to hide himself away. He just instinctively wanted to.
As he was drying off the last of the small number of dishes, Sunny saw someone come through the doorway out of the corner of his eye.
His throat closed up when he realized it was Hope. What was he supposed to say to her?
She had Grant’s pale blue eyes, the kind that looked grey in some lights, but her mother’s darker skin and finer features. She’d grow up to be stunning, which, considering how gorgeous both of her parents were, wasn’t really a surprise.
She’d also grow up loved, which was much more important. Hope was the kind of kid who’d be able to take on the world.
“Hi,” she said, pausing on the other side of the counter. “I’m Hope.”
Sunny smiled at that. “I’m Sunny.”
“That’s a weird name.”
Sunny chuckled. “I get that a lot.”
He watched her head to the fridge and grab a bottle of orange juice, setting it down on the countertop. “Do you want one?”
“Uh…” Sunny wasn’t entirely sure what to do in this situation, but he didn’t want to be rude, and he still hadn’t had breakfast.
Juice counted as breakfast.
“Sure, yeah, why not,” he said.
He wanted to get to know Hope, if he could. She was a huge, important part of Grant’s life.
She smiled at him, pouring a glass of juice and sliding it over before pouring one for herself. “Dad says you did all the decorating,” she said, sitting down on one of the stools tucked under the kitchen counter as Sunny wiped his hands clean.
“I did,” he confirmed. “Do you like it?”
Hope nodded, sipping her juice.
“He told me you were a big fan of glitter, so we have that in common.” Sunny smiled at the thought. There were worse shared interests.
