“Brought the dually,” he added. “Figured you had more than a couple boxes.”
Izzy let out a breathless laugh that cracked halfway into something dangerously close to tears.
“You drove all the way from North Carolina?”
“Yeah.” One corner of his mouth shifted faintly. “Left Tuesday morning.
Marcus looked between them, visibly losing patience.
“Izzy,” he said tightly, “who exactly is this?”
Grant finally turned his head.
He looked at Marcus for all of three seconds.
The heavy, immovable stillness of a man who had absolutely no intention of leaving without her.
Marcus went silent.
Grant looked back at Izzy and crossed the room slowly, boots echoing against polished concrete until he stopped directly in front of her.
Up close, he looked road-worn and sun-browned and painfully real.
His hand settled against the top of the cardboard box beside her.
“You done with him?” he asked quietly.
Izzy looked around the office one last time.
The glass desk.
The white walls.
The career she’d fought herself bloody to build.
For years, she’d thought this place meant success.
Now it felt empty.
“Yeah,” she said softly. “I’m done.”
Grant nodded once like there had never been another possible answer.
She stepped around the desk toward him, and neither of them moved.
Then Grant reached down, his rough fingers sliding tightly through hers.
“Burke said you promised you’d only be gone two weeks,” he murmured.
Izzy laughed shakily. “It’s been nineteen days.”
“Nineteen damn days.”
The words seemed to surprise him as much as they surprised her.
“The kitchen’s been too quiet.” His thumb brushed slowly against her hand. “And Naomi’s a terrible cook.”
A smile broke across Izzy’s face before she could stop it.
