Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 466(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 466(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
“Oh, that’s great to know. Thanks.”
He smiled. “No problem.”
“Are you a tile contractor?”
“Nah. Not by trade. I’m a drywaller.”
Grant walked up the aisle, pushing one of those tall carts you put big items on. He stopped next to me and eyed the guy like a suspect.
“I was actually looking for a drywaller. Never thought of trolling the aisles at Home Depot to find one.”
The guy dug his wallet from his back pocket and slipped out a business card. Offering it to me, he smiled. “If you need help again, give me a call.”
I took the card. “I will. And thanks for the education on tile.”
When the guy walked away, I looked at Grant. “I found a drywaller.”
He plucked the card from my hand. “Who wants in your pants. I’ll file this for you.” Grant crumpled up the card.
“Oh my God. You’re jealous?”
“No, I’m not. I’m territorial.”
“That’s the same thing.”
“Whatever. Show me the tile.”
I grinned and sing-songed, “Gra-ant’s jeal-lous.”
He shook his head. “You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?”
I pushed up on my tippy toes and brushed my lips with his. “You’d be bored with easy.”
After looking at the tumbled-stone tile, I still couldn’t decide. Grant loaded a box of each onto the cart and told me he’d lay them out on the floor when we got home so I could decide, then return the one I didn’t pick. Outside, he had to leave his trunk open and tie the big piece of sheetrock in place so it didn’t fall out. It was a pretty funny sight—Grant’s expensive Mercedes with a piece of rope keeping construction materials inside.
“Something tells me this is the first time this car has ever had sheetrock in it.”
“I hire people because I’m busy, not because I’m incapable of doing it myself.”
“I know. And the fact that you made time for me means a lot.”
Grant looked back and forth between my eyes and nodded. “Come on. Let’s get this stuff back, and this time, we’ll use my measurements.”
Chapter 27
* * *
Ireland
A week later, Grant and I seemed to have settled back into the comfort we had before Mia’s brunch. We ate lunch in his office most days and took turns staying at each other’s places. But we still hadn’t had any more conversation about having kids someday. We’d just moved on.
I’d mentally made a decision that I wasn’t ready to make a decision about whether having children meant more to me than having Grant. I guess I just hoped things would work themselves out. Maybe I’d discover Grant wasn’t Mr. Forever, or he’d soften on his position. Either way, it kept me from having to make the decision to walk away—which I definitely wasn’t ready for at the moment.
On Saturday morning, I woke up from the rocking. It was the first time I’d slept on Grant’s boat and felt more than a light sway. Patting the bed next to me, I found cold sheets instead of a warm body. So I pulled on the dress shirt Grant had worn to work yesterday and went searching for its owner. I found him outside on the back deck.
The wind blew, sweeping up the bottom of the shirt, and I caught it just as it was about to flash my ass. “It’s so windy.”
Grant nodded. “Storm’s brewing.”
The sun looked like it was trying to come out, but the sky was so cloudy, it just turned everything an ominous dark gray color.
Grant held out his hand and guided me to sit in front of him, between his open legs.
“Do you stay down here during a storm?”
“Sometimes. Depends on how bad it is. We don’t really get too many days where there are whitecaps in the inlet.”
“How long have you been awake?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. A few hours.”
I turned my head and looked up at him. “What time is it?”
“About six.”
“And you’ve been up for a few hours?”
Grant nodded. “Had trouble sleeping.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Just some work stuff on my mind.”
We sat quietly watching the sky for a little while.
Then Grant spoke again. “I’m full of shit.”
My forehead wrinkled. “About what?”
He shook his head. “It’s not work that’s bothering me.”
I sat up and turned around to face him. When I’d walked out, I hadn’t really taken a good look at him, but now I could see his face was etched with tension. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”
He looked down for a long time. When he looked up, his eyes were watery. “Today is Leilani’s birthday.”
I was confused. “The boat?”
Grant shook his head. He looked over my shoulder at the sky and swallowed before his eyes met mine again. “My daughter.”
“What?”
He closed his eyes. “She would’ve been seven.”
Would’ve been. I clutched my chest. “Oh my God, Grant. I had no idea. I’m so sorry.”
He opened his eyes and nodded.
My daughter. Two simple words that explained a whole lot. The name of the boat, obviously the reason he didn’t want to have kids… It was like the missing puzzle piece of Grant Lexington swirled around in the air and clicked into place.