Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Grant stood in his office reading Victoria's message on his phone again:
Have you given more thought to my offer? Boston would be a fresh start for you. Away from all this small-town... complications. Call me.
He should call her. He should tell her clearly, unequivocally, that he wasn't interested. That he'd never be interested. That the life she was offering—sleek, sensible, safe—felt like a prison sentence compared to the messy, chaotic, glitter-filled reality of staying here.
With Felicity.
Except Felicity wouldn't even look at him. And he couldn't blame her.
"You look like a man at a crossroads."
Grant turned to find Meena leaning against the doorframe, her ever-present clipboard tucked under one arm. She'd lost some of her usual corporate polish—her hair was escaping its neat bun, and there was a coffee stain on her cream blouse—but her eyes were sharp as ever.
"Just thinking," he said.
"About?" She walked into the ballroom, her heels clicking on the newly polished floor. She stopped beside him, following his gaze to the tree. "Or should I say about whom?"
Grant let out a long breath. "Is it that obvious?"
"Grant, I've known you since we were Economics majors sharing a study room in the library.
" She gave him a fond smile. "You spent four years being the most buttoned-up, emotionally constipated person on campus.
Watching you actually feel things is like watching a glacier learn to salsa. It's obvious."
Despite everything, he almost smiled. "That bad?"
"Worse. You look like someone kicked your puppy and then told you the depreciation schedule for puppy-related losses." She set her clipboard down on a nearby table. "So. Talk to me. What's going on?"
He ran a hand through his hair, then showed her his phone. Victoria's message was still on the screen.
Meena read it, her expression carefully neutral. "Ah. The Boston offer."
"She won't take no for an answer," Grant said. "I've tried to tell her I'm not interested, but she keeps... persisting. Calling. Texting. Showing up."
"Have you told her why you're not interested?" Meena asked pointedly.
Grant hesitated. "I've told her this bank is important to me. That my father's legacy—"
"Not what I asked." Meena's voice was gentle but firm. "Have you told her about Felicity?"
The name hung in the air between them. Just hearing it made his chest ache.
"No," he admitted.
"Why not?"
"Because..." He struggled for the words. "Because I don't even know what Felicity and I are. Because I hurt her and I don't know if she'll ever forgive me. Because saying it out loud to Victoria makes it real, and if Felicity rejects me, then I've just..."
"Shown your hand for nothing?" Meena finished. "Risked your dignity? Admitted you have feelings?"
"All of the above."
Meena was quiet for a moment, studying him with those shrewd dark eyes. "You know what your problem is, Grant?"
"I'm sure you're about to tell me."
"You're trying to manage this like it's a business transaction.
You're trying to hedge your bets, minimize risk, keep all your options open until you have guaranteed success.
" She shook her head. "But love doesn't work like that.
You can't diversify your portfolio here.
You can't keep Victoria as a backup plan while you figure out if Felicity will have you. "
"I'm not—" he started to protest, but she cut him off.
"You kind of are, though. By not telling Victoria clearly and definitively that you're in love with someone else, you're leaving the door open. And Felicity can feel that. Women always can."
In love. Meena had said it so casually, like it was obvious. Like it was a fact.
Was he in love with Felicity?
He thought about her laugh, wild and unrestrained.
The way she turned disasters into adventures.
The fierce determination in her eyes when she set her mind on something.
The softness of her hand in his when they'd fixed the tree together.
The way his whole world felt brighter, louder, more alive when she was in it.
"Oh crap,” he said quietly. "I'm in love with her."
"Finally!" Meena threw her hands up. "I've been watching you two circle each other like emotionally constipated planets for weeks. Yes, Grant. You're in love with her. Congratulations on joining the rest of us in the land of human emotion."
"She saw the text," he said, the realization hitting him. "When my phone went off. Felicity saw Victoria's name on the screen. That's why she shut down. That's why she looked at me like..."
"Like you were about to break her heart?
" Meena finished. "Probably. And can you blame her?
From her perspective, you humiliated her publicly, made her doubt everything about herself, and now you're getting texts from your gorgeous, sophisticated ex about offers in Boston. What's she supposed to think?"
Grant felt sick. "I need to talk to her. I need to explain—"
"No." Meena's voice was firm. "What you need to do is take care of Victoria first. Right now, Felicity thinks you're stringing her along while you decide between her and your ex.
You need to eliminate any doubt. Call Victoria.
Tell her clearly and explicitly that you're not taking the job, you're not interested in her, and you're in love with someone else. "
"And then?"
"And then you grovel to Felicity. Publicly, dramatically, with the entire town watching." Meena grinned. "Lucky for you, we have the perfect venue in about four hours."
Grant's stomach flipped. "The gala."
"The gala," Meena confirmed. "You want to show Felicity you choose her? Show her in front of everyone. No hedging, no private conversations where you can backpedal later. Make it loud. Make it public. Make it impossible for her to doubt."
"What if she says no?" The vulnerability in his own voice surprised him.
Meena's expression softened. "Then at least you'll know you tried. But Grant? She fixed that tree with you today. She could have refused, could have stayed away, could have let you fail. But she came back. She stayed. That means something."
Hope flickered in his chest, fragile but insistent.
"But first," Meena said, pointing at his phone, "you need to call Victoria. Be clear. Be kind, but be clear. No more ambiguity."
Grant looked at his phone, then at Meena. "Right now?"
"Right now. I'll give you privacy." She picked up her clipboard and headed for the door. At the threshold, she paused and looked back. "For what it's worth? I think you two are good together. You're the flour, she's the sugar. Separately, you're fine. Together? You're something worth tasting."
"Did you just compare my love life to a baking metaphor?"
"I've been spending too much time at Jade's bakery," Meena said with a laugh.
"Now make the call. And Grant? When you talk to Felicity tonight—and you will talk to her tonight—tell her the truth.
Not the careful, measured, risk-assessed version.
The real, messy, terrifying truth. That's what she needs to hear. "
She glanced at her watch and her eyes went wide. "Oh, yikes. It's almost time. I need to swing by Pine Ridge Manor to see my grandfather before the gala, then get to my Airbnb and change. I look like I've been in a war zone."
"You look like you've been planning a gala in three weeks with a skeleton crew and a defective cocoa fountain," Grant said.
"Same thing." She gave him one last, encouraging smile. "Four hours, Grant. Make them count. And for God's sake, wear a good tie. You're going to be making the most important speech of your life."
She disappeared, leaving Grant alone with his phone and the weight of the decision ahead.
He took a deep breath and dialed Victoria's number.
It was time to close one door so he could open another.
Time to stop hedging his bets and risk everything on the chaotic, glitter-covered, absolutely terrifying possibility of real happiness.
Time to choose Felicity.
Now he just had to convince her to choose him back.