Page 35 of Grant’s Blaze

I grimaced hard. I mean, I truly wanted Grant to mend his friendship with Sebastian, but at what price? The days of him being under Shark’s control…were over, as far as I was concerned. If Grant went right back to being the tyrant’s yes-man, I wasn’t sure how I would handle it. It would hurt my heart. I knew that much. Regardless of how much better I’d been about coping with becoming a widow, I could not simply forget why I was a widow in the first place.

Someone wanted to hurt Sebastian Shark, and my late husband had paid the debt instead. With his life. Our life. But as long as Grant was in my world, I’d have an inexorable tie to my late husband’s killer.

The sour taste of betrayal rose up from my churning stomach. This morning had already been an emotional bumper car ride, and this was my awful takeaway thought. The damn thing was stuck on repeat as I watched Grant shuffle around the condo getting things in order and picking up the mess he’d made with his phone.

“What are your plans for the day?” Grant finally turned his attention to me after re-storing the dustpan and brush in the entryway closet. “You want to come back here tonight?”

My favorite tree asked it while tugging me closer until our bodies were pressed against one another. I cranked my head way back to look up at him, and he chuckled the same way he did every time I had to strain to see his face when standing in my stocking feet. How did he switch gears so fast? Did I even want to know?

“Let’s touch base after lunch,” I offered. “I’m going to head into the kitchen at some point and see how things are going there.”

Grant raised one sandy brow as a way to underscore his skeptical glance.

“What?” I asked, hearing the peevish tone in my own question, but I wasn’t sorry. In that one look he might as well have said, “I don’t have faith in you.”

But I was too tired to fight right now, and dealing with my insecure crap was no way for him to start his day. If Grant didn’t think I was ready to return to work, that was something he could deal with. I’d already gone over it enough times and felt like I was.

Today, after I checked in on Hannah and the rest of the Inglewood staff, I’d head south to Seal Beach. My neighbor had been looking in on Robert for me, but he looked sad in the picture she sent last night. He was probably missing his cuddle time, and honestly, I was missing our special time too.

Grant kissed me at the door, and then he was gone.

Maybe I was just being silly? There was a strong possibility I was feeling hypersensitive because of everything that already happened this morning. When I looked at my phone for the time, I realized it was just coming up on seven thirty a.m. Yeah, this day had gotten off the starting line with a real bang.

Or was it more of a crash?

I snickered at my own dumb joke. Well, no one else was here to enjoy my lame sense of humor now, anyway. At least the little spurt of laughter released some of the tension that had begun to strangle me. Watching the man I cared so deeply about fall apart and then shut me out so steadfastly…it was still stinging deep. All I wanted to do was lend support to the one person who stuck by me when no one else had.

Seeing that look on his face over and over in my mind, though? Yeah, it stung like a bitch, as a matter of fact. Unlike Grant, I wasn’t capable of turning on an emotional dime. This was the exact reason I’d gone so many years with protective walls up around me. Impenetrable, sky-high emotional walls that no one could breach. If no one got into my fortress, no one could hurt me.

The plan used to work like a charm. Then I met Grant—the tallest, most handsome tree in the forest.

I pulled out the overnight bag I kept in the closet in the master bedroom since Grant invited me to keep some things here. Even though I felt a heavy sadness in my heart, I smiled while I folded the clothes I took out of the dryer. Carefully putting Grant’s items in his drawers, lining up the corners and folded edges just the way I knew he liked. I missed taking care of someone in these domestic ways. Little gestures that would let him know I took my time to do things, especially for him. If I had to pick my love language, these thoughts and my love of cooking landed me solidly in the service category. However, when folding my own clothes, the stuff got the most basic fold in half, then half again, and stuffed into my bag. I would use greater care when I got home and put my things away where they belonged.

Before I left the condo, I sent a message to Hannah to see if she’d already started on the lunch deliveries or was still at the prep kitchen. She answered right away, and we made arrangements to meet for lunch before I went into the kitchen.

As I made the twenty-five-minute trek southwest to Inglewood, I realized how excited I was to see my friend and catch up on how things were going with the whole Abstract Catering crew. We’d amassed a team of eight now, and even though that was still a pretty small operation, it was leaps and bounds above what Abbigail and I had ever thought possible.

I needed to set a solid plan in motion for my return to daily operations. Hannah had quickly become the head chef in the kitchen. Other than that, I didn’t know who was handling what. I was embarrassed and ashamed that I had let my personal drama get so out of control that every other aspect of my life circled the drain too.

Right now, I needed something to focus on and direct my energy toward. If there were any hours left in the workday when I got home this afternoon, I promised myself I’d finally start looking for a therapist. Since I wasn’t entirely sure what was going on with Grant, it didn’t feel fair to lean on the man to the degree I had been.

Even that acknowledgment said a lot for me and my mental health’s stability. The fact that I could recognize behavior in myself that had the potential to sabotage something as pure and good as our budding relationship and course-correct gave me hope.

I really looked forward to the day that my anxiety and panic disorders didn’t enter the world before me. These two diagnoses were like mean, ugly bouncers that cleared a room before I arrived. With the events of my recent history, people were uncomfortable to be around me in fear they’d set me off. I’d trained many people how to walk on eggshells with skills akin to Cirque du Soleil acrobats. It sucked a lot of energy out of friends and family always being so concerned about me.

I arrived at the restaurant about ten minutes early, so I put my name in for a table before going back outside to enjoy the weather. In April, when I’d hosted Abbigail’s baby shower for Kaisan, the days were already hot, and I thought we were in for a really scorching summer. But now that the season was almost here, Mother Nature seemed more relaxed. Cool nights and onshore breezes were still keeping things reasonable.

Hannah waved to me as she pulled into the parking lot. I swear, this girl had fallen off a rainbow made of candy sprinkles. The air around her practically shimmered from her good nature—to the point that at first, my bullshit meter was vibrating at a billion megahertz a second. But by now, we’d been working with Hannah for many months, and the meter was on ice. I knew her kindness and generosity were genuine.

“Hello, gorgeous!” I said to my young friend as she walked up. Her hair was down and loose in a beautiful blond waterfall that cascaded down her back. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with your hair down, and girl, I have to say that you’re more beautiful than the last time I saw you.”

“Hey, Rio.” She smiled with the greeting. “Talk about looking beautiful!” She stepped back from me while still clutching my hands, at once giving over an approving sweep of a stare. “I’m not sure what Mr. Twombley has been doing to get you to look so good, but tell the man to keep it up.”

I smirked. “That man never has to be reminded about keeping anything up, I’m just saying. But that’s probably why I look better. Happiness does funny things to your physical appearance.”

Hannah blushed from my blunt sexual innuendo, officializing one of my developing theories. The woman really was an angel walking among us mortals. Corrupting her could be so much fun—or downright tragic. Probably the latter because so few really good people were left on this planet.

“I put my name in about ten minutes ago when I got here, so we should be seated soon. Hungry?”