WOLFE’S LATE WINNER, ENGAGEMENT CONFIRMED. That’s the headline. Below it: Hockey star’s nurse fiancée seen at last night’s home game.
Grayson leans over my shoulder, coffee in hand, with no shame whatsoever. “Oh, that’s a great shot.”
I hit him with the newspaper. “Shut up.”
“What are you mad about? It really is a great shot.”
“I look like I’m trying to eat your face.”
“You sort of were.”
I hit him harder. He’s laughing into his coffee.
Sterling clears his throat with the dignity of a man who has been ignored on more important occasions. “I’d like to focus, if you don’t mind. This shifts the custody narrative in our favor today. The story is on every major outlet, tabloids and broadsheets both. Two morning shows mentioned it in their opener. After this, today we should—”
“There’s no itinerary today,” Grayson cuts in. “I’m taking Miranda shopping.”
Sterling stops, and I turn my head to look at him. “You’re taking me what?”
“We’re going shopping.” Grayson sips his coffee. “It’ll take all day, so we’ll be unavailable until evening.”
Sterling looks between the two of us. “This could work. You two can get photographed—”
“No.” Grayson shakes his head. “Today is ours.”
“Can I come?” Ethan’s head appears over the edge of the island, a piece of toast in his hand which is slathered in butter.
“You can’t come today, buddy. Coach has you for the day.”
Ethan’s eyes water. “But—”
Sterling interjects. “Mr. Wolfe, with respect, if Ethan is photographed with the two of you today, the optics are significantly better for the case. He sells you as a family man with a stable household, a devoted father. We’ve been building toward this for the custody filing.”
Ethan’s lip retracts, and he looks at Sterling like he’s just discovered a powerful new ally.
“Not today.” Grayson gives Sterling a look, and the man sighs, tucking his pen into his pocket with care.
“Very well. I will send over the itinerary for the next couple of days.”
He leaves as Ethan pleads with me with his eyes to be allowed to come. I look at Grayson. “If we’re going shopping, let’s just take Ethan—”
Grayson sets his coffee down and braces both hands on the counter on either side of my hips, cutting me off mid-sentence.
I lift my chin. “What are you doing?”
“Today is about you and me.”
“I understood that.”
“Did you really, though?”
“Yes, I understood you. And I think Sterling’s right that we should bring Ethan. It’d look bett—”
“Miranda, focus.” He leans in, his eyes on mine. “Do I need to spell this out?”
“What is there to spell out?”
“It’s a date, Miranda.”
