When she said my name like that, I wanted to sigh. It was so familiar, this affectionate frustration she held. I wanted to pick her up and hold her until she stopped clutching all these half-truths in her hands like trophies she’d won. Yes, she’d been hurt, but she was so capable of love. And now that I knew why she’d been putting me off for so long, I’d stop tiptoeing around what we had. Then maybe she could, too.
I got to my feet, making her eyes go wide. “You’re right, you do deserve someone who will love you forever. But you’re wrong if you think you can’t love them back. And you’re wrong if you think it couldn’t be me.”
“You can’t know that. About me or about you.” She shook her head, and I could see the stubbornness setting in. I’d never tried to out-stubborn her when she got like this, but I’d have to. I’d just have to.
Chapter 25 – Grace
Dean texted me while I was not doing all the nighttime routine things I should have been. I was still in my jeans and top. I hadn’t brushed my teeth or my hair. I hadn’t plugged in my phone to charge overnight. I hadn’t done a thing after getting Piper tucked in except lay here on top of my bed. I hadn’t even pulled my covers back. I picked my phone up from the floor where it had bounced off to when I’d tossed it to the side.
Dean: Did you get home okay?
It was a cheap move. How could I not reassure him? I hadn’t really been myself when I’d left. I’d reverted to cold, robotic Grace. I’d thanked him for the movie and tried not to fall apart seeing the careful way he’d carried my daughter out to the car for me and buckled her into her booster seat. He’d kissed her head when she opened her eyes and smiled up at him sleepily.
My nose tingled and my eyes stung. No crying. No crying allowed.
Fantasy Dean had been safe and fun, an indulgence that didn’t hurt anything, least of all my heart. He was not supposed to come to life and feel like this crushing weight on my chest. Dean had never been in a long-term committed relationship. And he wanted to try it out for the first time withme? I was angry and scared and heartsick at the thought. I was mad at him for daring me to try.
Grace: Yep. Thanks for checking.
Dean: Tell me what you’re really thinking. I can’t take it when you’re polite.
Grace: That’s… offensive.
Dean: How?
Grace: You think the real me isn’t polite.
Dean: I think the real you is multifaceted.
I was tempted to mock him for using such a big word in a text message, but it would only prove his point. When I was comfortable with him, I wasn’t polite. Or, in his words, I wasn’tjustpolite. I was many things.
Grace: Okay, I think you wanted an excuse to text me.
Dean: This is true. Tell me something else.
Grace: I think you have a bit of damsel-in-distress syndrome.
Dean: And you’re the damsel?
Grace: No, I’m the hot mess. The hot mess in distress.
Dean: Your ability to turn a phrase is what I like best about you. Also, I’ve met some hot messes in my time. That’s not you. Except for the hot part.
I sighed. And now we were back to flirting.
Grace: Goodnight, Dean.
I put my phone on the charger and got up to change and brush my teeth. Staring at myself in the mirror afterwards, I could not believe the audacity of an-hour-ago Grace. I wasn’t exactly small, but Dean was so strong and so sure of himself. I hadn’t hesitated to let him catch me. And then I had been the one to kiss him, to initiate things. And I not only kissed him, I devoured him, and it was so, so good. There was nothing make-believe about it. All the sensations washed over me. The slight scruff of his skin, his warmth, his scent, the sound of him drawing in breath, the look on his face right before I closed the distance between us, his secure hold on me, and the way his hands tightened on my back when our lips met. I gripped the counter in front of me.
It couldn’t happen again. All my thinking was muddled now. He’d told me to just stop resisting him. Like it was that simple. I couldn’t do that. I’d lose myself. I’d lose all rational thought. I could never jump into something without being one hundred percent sure it was right, ever again.
My phone rang from the bedroom and I jogged back, prepared to tell Dean to go away, but it was Rob. Of course. My literal reminder of why charismatic men were a problem for me.
“Hey, there.”
He sounded so upbeat. I’d have to force my mood to match. “Hi, Rob.” I rubbed my forehead. “Are you back in town?”
“I will be on Thursday for a radio show interview they plan to broadcast live on the mid-morning news, and then I need toget to Long Beach by Saturday morning to embark on a cruise where yours truly will be performing stand-up. So, do you think you and Piper could meet me for dinner on Thursday night? Unless you want to do something casual at your place. I know it’s a school night.”
