Chapter 24
Michael
O n Friday morning I walked into the kitchen to find Grace struggling to crack eggs into a bowl one-handed. She wore a baggy t-shirt along with tiny shorts and her hair was gathered haphazardly away from her face with a clip, with some of the strands coming loose.
I wanted to cross the kitchen, slip my arms around her from behind, and kiss her neck and that soft little spot behind her ear.
In the three days we’d lived together I’d quickly learned that living with Grace without being able to touch her was torture.
Sweet torture, true, but torture just the same.
I’d known it would be tough, even as I’d made the offer. What I’d underestimated was Grace’s appeal and how attracted I’d be to every last damn thing about her.
What I wanted to do was touch her. What I did do was make sure I made some noise so I wouldn’t scare her as I joined her at the counter.
“Morning, Grace.”
I held back a smile as she looked up at me, knowing it would only get me in trouble. She looked like a frustrated, pissed off kitten, though I was 100% certain she would see no humor whatsoever in that description.
“Why have I never mastered this?” She nodded at her egg and shell-covered hand and the bowl that contained only slightly more egg and less shell than her hand. “You do this and make it look easy. I’m an experienced cook. Why can’t I do this?”
I proceeded carefully. “My hands are a lot bigger than yours. Maybe that’s it.”
“Maybe.” Grace huffed out a breath. “I was sure I could do it but as you can see all I have is a big mess on my hands...or hand.” She shook her head in disgust. “And three wasted eggs to show for it.”
“They’re not wasted.” Not completely anyway. “What’s in the bowl can be salvaged. Why don’t you rinse your hand off and I’ll get the shells out of the bowl.”
“Fine.” Grace sighed as she flipped the water on in the sink and held her hand under it. “Could you crack a few more eggs for me? I wanted to make an egg bake for breakfast.”
I did as she asked, resisted the urge to help her dry her hand off, and stepped away to grab two mugs out of a cabinet. I poured us each a cup of coffee and took a sip of mine as I opened the fridge to get creamer for Grace’s.
“What are you in the mood for?” I perused her selection of creamers – she had four – while I waited for her answer.
“Um...Sweet Italian Cream. Thanks.”
I doctored Grace’s coffee with creamer and a little sugar, set it where she could get to it without it being in the way, then took a seat at the kitchen table, staying out of the way, myself.
“What’s your schedule for today?”
I sipped my coffee and answered Grace as I watched her add some shredded cheese and leftover chopped veggies from the day before to the eggs she’d whisked.
“Jamey and I are meeting with Jo and Ellie at eleven about possibly doing a seasonal cake flight, then I’ll be on until eight unless the crowd’s huge. How about you?”
I could get used to this. I was getting used to it...too quickly. Starting the day with Grace, ending the day with Grace, and usually texting or talking with her in between. She was addictive and I was putting up zero fight against it or her.
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T WO AND A HALF WEEKS later Grace got the green light from her physical therapist to go without the sling.
Today was her first day without it. She’d promised not to overdo it and from the phone conversation I’d had with her earlier in the day, she seemed to be holding to that.
To help celebrate, I’d offered to take Grace out to dinner. We usually split the cooking duties, which Grace had insisted on even though she’d had to be creative to cook one-handed. I would have made us something, but Grace was also working from home these days since the office was nearly right across the corner from where she’d been grabbed. Even Mercy wasn’t working from there for the time being. Grace hadn’t been cleared to drive yet, and though she hadn’t said anything, I knew she had to be going at least a little stir crazy.
I walked into the apartment and felt the now-familiar surge of satisfaction at seeing Grace sitting at the kitchen table. She was shutting down her laptop, a neat pile of folders stacked by its side.
“Hi, Michael.”
I swear her smile could stop traffic...and if I wasn’t careful, my heart.
“Hey, Grace. You have a good day? How’s your shoulder?”
She closed her laptop and set it on top of the folders, then moved the whole stack neatly to one side. “My day was good. My shoulder is a little sore, but not too bad.”
“That’s good.” I took a step in the direction of my bedroom. “I’m going to take a quick shower and change. You decide where we go for dinner.”
Grace had been debating between a local BBQ place or new all-day breakfast restaurant that had just opened to rave reviews. Both had a menu of items we didn’t feature at the pub and that neither Grace nor I typically made at home, so either would be a nice change.
Twenty minutes later we were headed out the door to Grace’s choice – the BBQ place – when her phone rang. She pulled it out of her bag and looked to see who it was.
“It’s Detective Chase.” She tapped to answer it on speaker. “Hi, this is Grace.”
“Grace, this is Detective Chase. Is this an okay time to talk for a few minutes?”
“It’s fine. I have you on speaker if that’s okay. Michael is here with me.”
“That’s fine with me.”
I’d been in on a couple of Grace’s conversations with Detective Chase. He was good about updating her on anything he learned related to her case.
“I wanted to let you know that we finally got confirmation of your ex’s location. It appears he may have been out of the area for a temporary job but he’s now back at the address you gave us near Morehead. We also obtained a recording of a call between your brother and a man named Jim Stokes. Is that name familiar to you?”
Grace shook her head as she responded. “No, not at all.”
“Alright, we learned from that call that your brother is definitely keeping tabs on you. We haven’t been able to connect him to the attack on you, but he seems to know where you are and in general what’s going on with you. Our best guess is that he has someone physically watching you, though we don’t have confirmation of that. He’s being careful with what he says. He has enough experience to know that all inmate calls are recorded. Like I told you after I questioned him right after the attack, he slips up when he’s agitated or pissed off. He’s got quite a temper.”
“Yes, I know,” Grace murmured, not meeting my eyes, and I wondered again, as I had in the past, what she’d had to endure when she lived with him.
“For now, just keep doing what you’re doing. Keep a low profile and don’t go out alone. He’s still very focused on getting you to do what he wants. He’s not giving specifics of what that is or how he plans to do that, but he will, and then we’ll have him. It’s just a matter of time.”
Grace exhaled slowly. “I know. I will.”
She sounded tired and a little dejected. I knew the detective was likely doing all he could, but it ate at me that I couldn’t fix this for her. I’d thought of one thing that might help, but it was a little out there.
“If you think of anything or see anything that seems even slightly off, call me, no matter what time it is. I’ll be in touch again when I have something to share.”
Grace disconnected and slowly put her phone back in her bag. Her eyes, when they met mine, had lost most of the happy anticipation of earlier.
“If you want to stay in, I’m happy to make something. Or we can order in.”
“No,” she shook her head immediately, reaching out her hand to brush her fingertips across my forearm briefly before dropping it back to her side. “Let’s go ahead and go. I don’t want to let Ellis ruin anything else for me.”
I needed to touch her like I needed to breathe.
I held my hand out to her and after a half second of hesitation, she put her hand in mine. I laced our fingers together and held her hand as we went down the stairs and out to my SUV, then again as we walked into the restaurant. It wasn’t everything I wanted – far from it – but it calmed the frustration and anger swirling inside me enough for me to give Grace the relaxed, worry-free evening she deserved.
After we’d placed our orders, I held my drink up for a toast, looking at Grace expectantly until, with a small curve of her lips, she followed suit.
“To sling-free living.”
The curve of her lips became a full, genuine smile. “To sling-free living. Long may it continue.”
“Hear, hear.”
We tapped our plastic glasses, and each took a sip of our respective drinks.
“Thanks for this, Michael. I really appreciate it.”
“Don’t thank me yet.” I looked around at the bare bones interior of the restaurant. “I’ve heard good things about this place, but the food might suck.”
“I doubt it.” She gave me another of her soft smiles. “If it does, I chose it. And anyway, it doesn’t matter. I’m just glad for the chance to celebrate something happy.”
“You deserve it,” I agreed.
“I just wish...” Grace stopped and shook her head. “I know as well as anyone that wishing doesn’t make something so.”
“What do you wish?”
“That Ellis would leave me alone?” She phrased it as a question, but I knew she meant it. “That he’d develop amnesia and forget I exist? Or maybe grow a conscience and some character and decide that he’s not, in fact, entitled to something that’s not his just because he wants it? Don’t worry. I know pigs will be zipping around the skies and there will be ice skating in hell long before any of those things happen.”
“I’m afraid I can’t argue with you there.”
“There has to be some way to get through to him that I’m not going to do what he wants. I just don’t know what it is.”
My heart rate kicked up at her words. She’d unknowingly given me an opening, a chance to talk to her about the idea I’d had.
“There just has to be something,” she mused again.
“I have an idea.” The words were out before I could stop them. Apparently, I was going for it. “Something that would send a message to Ellis and hopefully make you safer in the process. But I need you to really listen to me before you say anything okay?”
Grace eyed me cautiously. “Why do I feel like you’re about to say something crazy?”
“It’s not crazy. It might sound like it at first though.”
“Okay, tell me.”
Here went nothing. “I think we should get married.”
Grace blinked at me, and I could almost hear her processing what I’d said. “I know I’m still recovering from a concussion, but I could have sworn you just said we should get married. Isn’t that weird?”
“It’s not weird. That’s what I said.” Grace opened her mouth to respond but I kept going. “Hear me out. Ellis and Seth’s plan is to force you to marry Seth to get access to your property, then sell it and steal your money, right?”
“That’s what I overhead them talking about, yes,” Grace said evenly. “Me marrying Seth even if they had to drug me or force me somehow. Then they joked that once we were married, they could just kill me, and the property would be Seth’s.”
“If you’re already married to me then that plan goes out the window. And if Seth can’t marry you hurting you to get your inheritance goes out the window, too. There’s no incentive for them to do that.”
We both paused as our server set our food on the table between us.
“We don’t know if that’s even the plan anymore,” Grace argued once the server had moved on. “I never expected Ellis to pay someone to grab me off the street. Maybe he decided to just try to force me to sign the property over. If so, being married to you won’t make a difference.”
“Maybe yes, maybe no. If Ellis knows there’s an obstacle in his way, maybe he’ll decide it’s not worth the risk.”
“You don’t know Ellis. He truly hates me. Regardless of what I said before, he won’t give this up no matter what.”
I should back off, let it go, but I couldn’t.
“If that’s true then we need to do everything possible to keep you safe. Us getting married takes away the one plan we know they had and takes away any possibility that hurting you will benefit them. And think of it this way...if anything does happen – which it won’t – but if it does, I won’t have to lie about my relationship with you to anyone taking care of you. I say we do it.”
“I can’t, Michael. This is too much to ask. And I know I’m not asking but I can’t let you do this.” “You’re not letting me. I’m telling you I want to.” I had to be careful here. I didn’t want the true depth of my feelings for Grace to scare her away from this. “I know it’s unconventional, but people get married for all kinds of reasons, some way stranger than this.”
Grace surprised me with a light laugh. “I’m not sure that’s true. This is right up there on the strangeness scale.”
“Regardless, I think we should do it.”
Grace sighed and her shoulders dropped. “How would it work, though? Would we just stay married until we somehow get Ellis to stop coming after me and then get divorced? What if he never stops?”
“We can figure all that out.” During the last few minutes this had gone from an admittedly off-the-wall idea to something I was convinced we needed to do. “It ends when it ends.” Hopefully never. “We don’t need to put an expiration date on it.”
Grace was silent as she spun her glass in a slow circle on the tabletop. I wished she would look at me so I could see what was going on in her head.
I pushed a little harder. “Detective Chase said Ellis is keeping tabs on you. If we get married and make it obvious, it’s sure to get back to him.”
Now she met my eyes. “How would we make it obvious?”
“Celebrate in public? Maybe something at the pub?” Grace didn’t respond, just continued to watch me. “It doesn't have to be a huge deal. Just something to make it obvious that we’re celebrating getting married.”
Grace drew in a breath and let it out slowly. “So, we’d really be married. We wouldn’t be pretending.”
“We’d really, legally be married,” I confirmed. “Nothing else needs to change, Grace. We can just keep going like we already are.”
She nodded absently in response.
As her silence went on, I focused on keeping my expression neutral. I’d known she wouldn’t jump at the chance to link herself legally with me, but I had to admit that her continued resistance to the idea of marrying me – even for her own safety – was starting to sting a little.
Just when I was convinced she was going to turn me down, she spoke. “I guess I should probably change my name, too. I mean, if that’s okay with you.”
Damn if that didn’t hit me somewhere deep inside, the thought of Grace sharing my name.
“I’m 100% okay with it.” And now that she’d mentioned it, wanted it with a fierceness that surprised me.
She released another slow breath. “I’m still not sure it’s right, even though you’re willing, but...” my heart thumped as she hesitated... “let’s do it. Let’s get married.”
In my mind I jumped to my feet and pumped my fist.
Here in the real world, I gave Grace a nod and a smile. “Name the date and I’m there.”