Chapter 11 #2
I feel like I should thank him all over again, just for taking away some of the daily stress around deciding what to make for dinner. It would probably sound weird if I tried to put that thanks into words, though, so I keep it to myself for now.
Our meal is surprisingly delicious for something so healthy, and April is even digging in with the kind of enthusiasm she usually reserves for pizza or chicken nuggets.
By the time we finish eating, we’re both sitting back in our chairs with full bellies and drooping eyelids.
“Should we call it a day?” I ask, gingerly getting up from my chair so I can clear the plates from the table. “We can read a couple of chapters together if you want, and then it’s time for bed.”
“Three chapters?” she asks even though she’s already stifling a yawn.
“We’ll see.”
I leave the dishes in the sink for now, determined to get April into her bed before she falls asleep at the table.
“I’ll clean up the kitchen when I get back down here in a bit,” I call out to Grant, who is sitting on the couch and watching hockey highlights while he nurses a protein shake.
“No worries,” he answers, then gives a little salute to April. “Sweet dreams.”
“Thanks, Grant.” She beams and waves from the stairs, perking right back up like she does every time he talks to her. “Good night.”
Thirty minutes and three chapters of her favorite book later, her eyes are fully closed. I ease up from the corner of her bed and tuck the covers around her, then press a light kiss to her forehead.
“Mom?”
I stop just as I’m reaching to turn off her bedside lamp. “Yes, sweetheart?”
“Today was really fun. Thanks for taking me.”
“You’re very welcome. It was a lot of fun for me too.” One more kiss on the forehead, and then I flip the switch on her lamp and leave her to sleep. “Good night.”
Exhausted as I am, and even with the prospect of washing dishes and tidying the kitchen ahead of me, I’m still smiling to myself as I walk back downstairs.
I don’t know how I managed to raise such an even-tempered, good-hearted, intelligent young woman on my own. I’m so proud of her, and she’ll always be my biggest accomplishment.
Once I hit the foot of the stairs, I’m back in mom mode, mentally going through my usual evening checklist. Wash the dishes.
Pack April’s lunch for tomorrow and double-check that I’ve folded all our laundry for the week.
It’s the never-ending cycle of menial tasks that somehow multiply when I’m not looking.
But when I make it to the kitchen, I stop in my tracks and have to do a double-take. I blink, almost wondering if I’m hallucinating.
The dishes are done.
Not just rinsed and stacked, but completely washed, dried, and put away. Even the pan I used to heat up our dinner is spotless and back in its place.
“What in the world?” I have to say the words out loud just to make sure I’m not dreaming or sleepwalking or something.
But if I’m really awake, and I know the dishes didn’t wash themselves, that only leaves one other explanation.
I walk back through the house to find Grant in the living room, seemingly exactly where he was a half-hour ago when April and I went upstairs.
It’s only when I get closer that I realize something is different. Instead of sipping his shake and watching sports, he’s fidgeting with something small in his hands.
A shirt. April’s shirt from the zoo.
“Grant?” I don’t even try to hide my surprise and confusion. “What are you doing?”
He looks up with an almost sheepish expression.
“I asked Colin to bring some sewing supplies over the other day—it was after that morning when you had to rush around and fix April’s shirt before school.
” He holds up the nearly-mended t-shirt.
“He gave me a couple of impromptu lessons. I’m not going to be quitting my day job to become a seamstress anytime soon, but I think this will hold. ”
To say I’m stunned would be an understatement.
“You learned how to sew? For me?”
Now he definitely looks sheepish, and might even be blushing a little.
“Just basic stuff, really. It seemed like something I should know how to do anyway.” He looks back down to focus on the last bit of stitching, giving it the same sort of concentration he might normally use to block a penalty shot.
“I know you’ve had a busy week, and I wanted to help out with some of the small stuff. ”
I don’t know how to react.
He’s washed our dishes—and they were dishes he didn’t even use—without being asked. He learned to sew just to help with April’s clothes. And all because he wants to make my life easier?
I’m so used to managing everything myself that having someone step in and lighten the load without asking first feels like a weird fever dream. It’s almost overwhelming.
“Thank you,” I offer, even though it feels completely inadequate compared to everything he’s done for my daughter and me. “You didn’t have to do any of that, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t appreciate the help.”
“Good. I wanted to do it. All of it.” He gives a rueful look at the patched hole in April’s shirt. “As much of it as I could, anyway.”
It’s the simplest, most honest explanation, but the whole idea still feels almost foreign to me. Even crazier is that I know he doesn’t want or expect anything in return.
Grant Parker really is one of the good ones.
I’m completely at a loss for what else to say or do, so I sit down on the couch next to him. Which is probably a mistake, since I’m so damn tired that I immediately sink into the plush cushions and can’t help closing my eyes.
“Long day?” he asks.
“The longest. But in a good way. I wouldn’t trade the time I spent with April today for anything in the world.
” I roll my shoulders, trying to work out some of the knots and tension.
“My shoulders are killing me, though. I think I might have slept wrong last night, and carrying April’s backpack around the zoo all day didn’t help. ”
I hear him rustle around next to me and then hear his footsteps across the living room. By the time I open my eyes, he’s already halfway up the stairs.
“Where are you going?” I call after him.
But he doesn’t answer, and now I’m wondering if I said the wrong thing. Maybe I didn’t show enough appreciation for all the things he’s done. Or maybe complaining about my aches and pains made me sound like a whiny baby when he’s done all of this stuff on top of his grueling daily routine.
I wince at that thought, hating that I’ve probably pissed him off with my carelessness.
A couple of minutes pass, and I’m still not sure what to do. I should probably just chalk it all up to exhaustion and go to bed. But just as I’m stretching and about to stand up, I hear his footsteps on the stairs again.
I turn to watch as he comes into view, expecting to see an irritated look or maybe even a cold shoulder. Instead, he simply motions for me to join him.
“Come with me.”
“What?” Now I’m more confused than ever. “Where?”
“Just trust me. Come on.”
I do trust him, and I’m too tired to put up any resistance. He leads me upstairs to the guest bathroom—not my en suite, but the larger one down the hall.
When he pushes open the door, the first thing I notice is the floral scent wafting out into the hallway. It’s like roses and jasmine and… honey? Honeysuckle?
Whatever it is, it’s amazing, and my feet are already carrying me forward in impatient anticipation.
The enormous sunken bathtub is filled to the rim with bubbles, and there are even a few candles lit throughout the bathroom.
“Oh my goodness.” I can’t keep my mouth from falling open as I look around and take it all in. “Grant, this is wonderful. You did all of this?”
“For you.” He shrugs and offers that hesitant grin again. “I just thought it might help with your shoulders.”
I’m totally speechless for the second time tonight. Nobody has drawn a bath, let alone a bubble bath, for me since I was a little girl. And again, it’s the simplest thing in the world, but it’s also one of the most thoughtful gestures anyone has done for me in a really long time.
My stomach does that fluttery thing that I’ve been feeling more and more lately as I turn to look back at the bathtub. It’s beautiful. Like something straight out of a movie.
It’s impossible to hold back a contented sigh when I meet his gaze again. “I don’t know what to say except thank you. You’ve done so much, and I don’t have a clue how I’m going to repay all your kindness.”
“There’s nothing to repay.” His brow wrinkles for a second like he wants to say more, but then his features smooth out again as he takes a step back toward the door. “I’ll leave you to it. And I’ll be down the hall in my room, so just yell for me if you need anything.”
Once he’s gone, I undress and sink into the hot water, only belatedly biting down on a moan as the tension in my neck and shoulders starts to fade.
Just as I’m closing my eyes and tilting my head back so the water eases up to my earlobes, my phone alarm goes off.
It’s the reminder I set for myself about tomorrow’s schedule, and it couldn’t have come at a worse time.
The noise is loud and jarring in the otherwise peaceful, serene bathroom, and I scramble to reach for my discarded clothes but can’t come close to reaching them without tracking water all over the bathroom floor.
Shit.
I don’t want to call out for help, but I also don’t want that alarm to keep going off until it wakes April.
Shit, shit, shit.
“Grant?” I wince, feeling like a complete idiot for letting this happen.
He did tell me to yell for him if I needed anything. Hopefully that wasn’t just one of those nice things people say but don’t mean.
Within seconds, he’s outside the bathroom door. “Is everything okay in there?”
And now I feel even worse because he sounds genuinely concerned.
“Sorry, yeah, it’s my phone alarm. Can you, um, come in and turn it off for me? Please?”
Lord, this is embarrassing. My cheeks are flushed with heat even before the door slowly opens and I see the amused smirk on his face.
“Should I avert my eyes, or are you good?”
Yeah, this is absolutely mortifying.
“Strategically covered by the bubbles, thanks.”
He nods toward the pile of my discarded clothes on the floor. “May I?”
“Yes, please. It’s just there in my jeans pocket.”
And my jeans just happen to be right underneath my panties. Because of course they are.
He handles the situation like a pro, even though his cheeks are also a little flushed by the time he fishes the phone from my pocket and hands it over to me.
“Thank you so much,” I say, swiping to silence the offending alarm. “I’m sorry I had to bother you for that.”
“No bother at all. I was just…”
His voice trails off, but he doesn’t look away. I’m not sure whether I should say something else or dunk my head underneath the water until he leaves, but the moment is too perfect, too electric for me to do anything but hold his gaze.
“I’ll let you get back to your bath,” he says after what feels like four or five solid minutes of silently looking at each other. His voice is deeper than normal and a little scratchy.
“Okay,” I nod, barely able to find my own voice.
Another second passes, then another before he turns to go. I don’t know what makes me reach for him, but I catch his hand just before he’s out of reach and pull him back toward the tub until he’s towering over me.
I only have to give his hand a gentle tug to bring him down toward me, and he takes over from there. His lips are on mine in an instant, surprisingly gentle but still possessive enough to make me whimper into his mouth.
He deepens the kiss, his tongue entwining with mine as he reaches for my chin and tilts my head farther back.
Just like with everything else, he seems to instinctively know what I need. He doesn’t try to move too fast or push past my comfort zone. But I can still feel the strength he’s holding back and the power coiled in those muscular shoulders when I reach out with a soapy hand to steady myself.
The kiss has electrified every part of my body, making every nerve ending from my head down to my toes come alive. We’re both breathing harder when we finally break apart, and I can see that his pupils are blown with desire when I look into his eyes.
There’s a hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth as he slowly stands back up in front of me. “Enjoy your bath,” is all he says before he walks back across the bathroom and slowly closes the door behind him.
My heart is pounding so loudly in my chest that I can hardly hear anything else as I sink back into the water.
God, what did I just do?