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My blood turns cold.
Grant stands beneath the streetlamp, wearing an expensive navy suit and the charming smile that once convinced me he was the answer to every prayer I’d ever whispered.
“Grant.”
He spreads his arms.
“That’s all I get? After everything we’ve been through?”
“What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you, obviously.” He steps closer. “Baby, I’ve missed you.”
“Don’t call me that.”
His smile falters.
“Come on. I’ve changed. I’m in therapy. I’m working on myself.”
“Good. Keep doing that.”
I step around him but he blocks my path.
“Let’s get dinner. Talk like adults.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Wren, sweetheart, I flew all the way down here.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
His jaw tightens.
There’s the man I remember.
“You always did have a talent for being ungrateful.”
I take a breath.
“I’m going home, Grant.”
He catches my wrist.
Hard.
“Not until you listen to me.”
“Let go.”
“Stop making a scene.”
“You’re hurting me.”
His fingers tighten.
“Then stop being difficult.”
A shadow falls across us.
