The False Flat

CHAPTER 33

THESE ARE A FEW OF MY FAVORITE THINGS

The next morning before work, I was sipping a green tea in Grant’s living room. I’d spent another night in his guest room, to make sure he was steadily mending after the trip to urgent care. They’d confirmed a stomach bug, which was a relief. Deanna’s and Piper’s concern had been real, but over something temporary. I could handle this.

“I guess I’ll see you at three o’clock,” he said into his phone and then hung up.

“Three o’clock today?” I asked.

“Yeah. The urgent care clinic sent my information over to Dr. Remke, my primary care doc. They want to see me today. Good thing my schedule’s light.”

“But you’re fine.”

He shrugged. “They’re thorough.”

“If it’s just a stomach bug—”

“I haven’t been for my annual checkup.” Mild annoyance laced his voice as he cut me off. “They’re probably just trying to get me in there.”

I wondered if, only after a month of officially being a couple, he was getting tired of my phobias.

But why go to the doctor if you were fine? Irrationally, I didn’t want him to go, but after his near-snap at me, I certainly wasn’t going to say that.

I tried to appear casual. “Do you want me to drive you?”

Please say no so we can both avoid another scene.

And I could avoid telling him that I had an appointment with Dr. Schultz, a therapist, during my lunch today, one I’d snagged due to a cancellation, giving me less time to stew and back out. I was dreading it, but I needed this person to help me, so the next time Grant got a cold or cut his finger or—God forbid—went to one of these silly “annual checkups,” I wouldn’t lock myself in my vehicle and gaze longingly at a smiling grocery sack.

“No, I’m feeling better,” he said. “Not a hundred percent, but I can drive. Plus, I’m meeting with my team today. They’re finished with the venue hall addition, and the ovens are going in thanks to that Interest clipboard.”

I smiled. “Pinterest.” But I couldn’t be excited over Deanna’s surprise because the question Everything’s okay, right? popped in and out of my head. Of course it was. Normal people followed up with their doctors all the time. I was the abnormal one for not ever going to the doctor.

I scratched my face. It wasn’t itchy, but my anxiety was kicking up. It was going to be a bicycle day. Let’s change the subject, shall we?

He reached out and touched the lock of hair that had fallen into my eye; one hank had escaped my silk wrapping during the night and was doing this flippy thing. He looked at me with a strange pensiveness that made me squirm a little on his couch, like I was a painting in an art gallery that had to be pondered over to be understood.

“I’ll get this doctor’s appointment out of the way; then we can have a nice evening. Dinner out?”

“Sounds perfect.” I tapped a finger on my lips. “What’s that soup-and-sandwich place called off Twenty-First? Ben’s?”

“Hal’s, and it’s a date.”

Still staring.

“Grant?”

“Hmm?”

“Is everything okay?”

“What?”

“You’ve been staring.” I gave him a pathetic smile, then in a singsong voice added, “It’s freaking me out a little.”

“You’re one of my favorite things in life, you know that?”

A grounded feeling washed over me, coupled with one light as air. “I can honestly say you’re one of mine too.”

The hair flipped back in my face, and this time when he leaned in to tuck it behind my ear, his lips moved in too.

His kiss bordered on urgent, and I fell into it, swimming in its depth, awash from head to toe in a connectivity that made me lose my orientation in space. When his lips were pressed into mine, a promise solidified, a promise to never let go.

When we pulled apart, our chests rose and fell in tandem as we both recovered our breath. My lips tingled, and I licked them, looking into his eyes.

He was Grant. Not a number. My glorious, mustached Grant. Maybe I didn’t need to see the therapist.

“I’d better get to work,” he said, struggle tightening his stance. Control. I loved that it took that much effort for him to keep distance from me.

I needed to go, too, as I—thankfully—had another full day of new-client meetings. But this whole no-sex-until-Penelope’s-sure thing was his idea, and I didn’t want it to be easy.

“Meet you at Hal’s?” I asked, shoving my feet into violet heels that popped at the bottom of my all-black power outfit. Then I went to him, ran a hand up his chest, and put my lips teasingly close to his. “Maybe tonight we’ll come back here, and you can give me another kiss like ...” My hot breath slid over his mouth as my finger traced the vein at his neck. His eyes rolled back in his head, and his jaw tightened.

“You’d better go.” His swallow was visible. Control. I wanted to break it.

I flicked my tongue over his mouth, pulled back, and winked at him. Then I slowly walked out the door, his gaze heating my backside.