Grant’s eyes had been fixed on me intently, but they flicked to Katie in the kitchen, then the other three sitting cross-legged around the coffee table.
“Oh,” he said. “I’m interrupti?—”
“Actually, we were just leaving.” Katie walked over to the coffee table and started gathering up the half-eaten boxes of takeout. She pulled the chopsticks right out of Jackie’s hands, spilling the fried rice they’d been holding.
Jackie remained hunched over the box, hand hovering, mouth open. Katie nudged her with her leg, and Jackie snapped her jaw shut and started helping.
Grant’s mouth shifted into a lopsided grin. “Wereyou just leaving? It kind of looks like you just started eating.”
Nick pushed himself up and brushed off his jeans. “I’ve gotta get going.”
“See?” Katie said, stuffing sloppily closed boxes into cheap, generic plastic sacks.
Brooke grabbed a fortune cookie, but before she could open the plastic wrapping, Katie snatched it and stuffed it in the bag. She reached for the last container, but Nick got it before her.
She glanced up at him, lips pressed together. “Thanks,” she said. “All right. Let’s roll, peeps!”
The other three followed obediently, and Grant stepped into my apartment to clear their path.
“You didn’t want to leave me any food?” Grant asked as they filed through the door.
“I really doubt you’ll be thinking about food,” Katie said, then shut the door.
The silence that followed pressed in on me from all directions.
Grant stepped toward me, his expression somber. “Vivian, I swear I had no part in that article. I would never?—”
“I know.”
His throat bobbed, and he gave a wobbly laugh. “I had a whole speech prepared to persuade you.”
I tucked my nuisance hair tendrils behind my ears. “You can give it if you want. I’ll listen, but…I know you had nothing to do with it.”
He nodded, eyes fixed on me.
“What happened in New York?” I asked.
He lifted his shoulders. “Russ tried to convince me to do the Sentinel article. I refused. Over and over. He was…mad. Called me crazy and infatuated and a bunch of other things. But I got a call from him on my way here. He apologized for being so hard on me. He was furious the Sentinel had run an article without me—and admitted I’d shown a lot of integrity.”
I smiled. “He’s right. So…does that mean you’ll stay at Threadline?”
He nodded. “I don’t want to write for The Sentinel anymore. I thought they were better than what they put out today, and I don’t want the pressure to write that sort of thing.” His brows contracted. “I’m really sorry, Vivian.”
“Thanks. I’ll be okay.” I didn’t know how, but I had to believe it.
Having Grant here made that feel much more possible than it had even an hour ago.
There were three feet between us, and I waited for Grantto fix that oversight. His eyes told me he wanted to, but he didn’t budge.
He was still giving me the space he’d promised.
“I missed you,” I said, and the admission made me shake.
He pulled in a breath like he was inhaling my words. “I missedyou.” He lifted both hands, then stopped and shut his eyes. “I’m trying to give you space, Vivian, but this is torture. Can I please touch you?”
My body sagged from the sudden release of tension. “Willyou?”
He stepped closer to me, putting both hands on my waist. “Is this okay?”
