26. Grant
TWENTY-SIX
GRANT
It turns out there’s something to be said for engagement parties. Or maybe I just enjoy any place I’m given the freedom to wander around holding Lila against me.
We mingle through the yard, and she introduces me to her friends and neighbors. It’s obvious she’s liked and admired. Everyone has something to say about the part she played in the last Christmas festival or their high expectations for the upcoming Fourth Fest. She’s asked for her opinion on everything from current fashion trends, to cozy bedroom paint colors, to where to buy earrings like hers. And every time, she finds a way to direct them to a shop in town like she’s already Sunshine’s tourism director.
She’s energetic and open, but it’s her smile that gets me. She’s not stingy with it. After the slight awkwardness with her parents, she relaxes into the evening. She’s full of laughter and heart, and she’s the brightest star in the night.
Clearly, I’m ready for someone else to ask what drew me to her.
When we’ve made our rounds and evening casts long shadows through the yard, she leads us over to the fire pit. August dances around the crackling flames holding a marshmallow on a stick that hovers just over the fire. Lila and I sit on one of the outdoor sofas, and her sister and friends take up the others next to Tess.
“Is another marshmallow going to be too much for his blood sugar?” Wren asks her sister.
“I’m toasting it for that guy.” August throws a hand toward where Griffin cuddles Hope.
Griffin groans, but Hope consoles him with a pat on his chest.
August stops his jig. “I mean Griffin . I’m toasting this one especially for you.”
I’m very much enjoying the way his l-sounds are more like extra ys. Especiayee .
“He’s the toastmaster general tonight.” Tess smiles at her son from across the raised metal fire pit. “How many is that?”
“Eight. But—oops.”
The marshmallow’s engulfed in flames. He blows it out, grinning away.
“But some caught fire,” he finishes.
“I like a toasty marshmallow.” Griffin has a graham cracker and a piece of chocolate ready. “Bring it here, buddy.”
They work together to slide the molten marshmallow onto the little stack.
“Perfect!” Griffin offers him a hand, which he slaps. “What’s my name?”
“Griffin!”
“Atta boy.”
August yawns massively but holds up his toasting stick. “Who wants one?”
“I think it’s time for us to go, honey. We’ve got to get you to bed.” Tess helps direct him to put the s’mores supplies away and encourages him to wish us all goodnight .
He goes around the group offering goodbyes. Lila gets another huge hug. Then, he turns to me. “Goodnight, guy!”
Griffin nods, wiping melted chocolate from his mouth. “The torch has been passed.”
Tess and August wave one last time and make their way to the side gate to disappear into the night.
Wren sits with her ankles tucked up under her nibbling on a loose graham cracker. “You throw a good party.”
“Five stars on Yelp,” Hope says.
Lila melts against me a little more. “Thanks. I think it turned out pretty great.”
“Isn’t that part of what you used to do? Didn’t you throw big parties for those—” Wren snaps her fingers several times like she’s trying to find the right word. “What do you call them? Jerks at your old job?”
“They did like to celebrate themselves.”
Hope laughs. “You sent me the copy that went with one of their last app rollouts that was just so…”
Lila lifts a hand. “You don’t have to finish that thought. I’m familiar with my work.”
“Dad says people like that are in love with their own genius.”
“Sounds like Josh was the worst of them all.” Wren stops cold and looks over at us. “Uh, sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry for my sake,” I say. “I agree with you.”
“But dang, you’ve made great changes all around.” Wren uses the last of the graham cracker to salute Lila. Just in case there was any confusion about her meaning, she tosses a wink in, too.
Lila makes a soft, almost purring sound. “I sure have.”
I’ve had a lot of memorable moments in my life, but this one sparkles like it’s something more.
Conversation moves between the others as a Journey ballad serenades us. Lila shivers, and goosebumps break out on her arm beneath my fingers.
“Are you cold?” I say softly.
“I should have brought a wrap, but I didn’t think about it. Mom probably has something inside I can borrow.”
“I could keep you warm.” The offer is out in a flash, my deepest wants rising up to seize their opportunity as though I haven’t had my arm around her all evening.
Her gaze drops from my eyes to my mouth. She swallows. Every little movement of her throat requires study. The pulse in her neck. The shift at the hollow of her throat. How can such a common action have such overpowering appeal?
“Okay.” Her response is more breath than sound.
She shifts, and I slide her onto my lap, wrapping my upper body around her. My arms cage her in, hands slipping down her bare arms before crossing at her waist. Her head is right next to mine, my mouth at her ear. “Good?”
“Mm hmm.”
In the firelight, her face glows pink. We breathe in time, a duet I wouldn’t mind sharing again someplace more private. Her perfume is soft, nearly gone this late in the evening. I slip her hair to one side and drop my nose to where her shoulder meets her neck and breathe deep.
The scent affects me on a cellular level, everything inside me claiming Mine.
She shivers again, but no goosebumps appear.
“What is your perfume?” I wrap my wandering hand back around her before it can trace the length of her neck or dance down her spine.
“It’s, um…tomato.”
“Tomato?” The scent is fresh and clean but zesty, too. I wouldn’t have called it as tomato, but that fits.
She nods, turning a touch to try to face me. “It’s from a place that sells unusual scents like grass or laundry or dirt. You might like that one.”
“I like yours. Why did you choose it?”
“Because I didn’t want a perfume everyone else is wearing. I wanted something that belonged to just me.”
She certainly has. I’m going to go home with this scent imprinted on my synapses. I could walk into a room thirty years from now and smell that perfume, and I’ll come straight back to tonight. Lila .
“Do you fly fish, Grant?”
Griffin’s deep voice shakes me out of my Lila-perfume haze. “Yeah. A little bit.”
“I know a few good spots, if you’ve got time while you’re in town.”
“He knows all the good spots.” Hope’s got him wrapped up tight in her arms. “He’s teaching me how, too. I mostly just cast and don’t catch anything, but we could make a whole day of it if you want, Lila.”
She turns to Wren. “You can come, too, if you want?—”
Wren waves her off. “That’s not necessary. I don’t eat anything with scales.”
Lila burrows deeper against me. “I fished on the trip. I don’t really need to again.”
“Did you have any luck?” Hope asks.
“Yes and no. Yes, I caught one. No…the subsequent fish-related trauma scarred me for life.”
“Did they make you gut it?” Griffin’s a little too gleeful in his questioning. Hope smacks his chest.
Lila turns almost green again. I run a hand along her arm to soothe her. “I’ll catch and release. How about that, princess?”
“No fish murder?”
I nod like it’s a done deal. “No fish murder.”
She sighs against me. “Thank you. ”
“Man,” Griffin says. “Calling it fish murder kind of sucks the fun out of it.”
When we head inside to say our goodbyes, nearly everyone else has left for the evening. We find Lila’s parents in the kitchen washing dishes.
“We’re going to go,” Lila tells them.
Her mom rushes over. “Before you do, I wanted to invite you to sit with us during the parade at the Fourth Fest, Grant. Lila will be running around in the morning, making sure everything goes smoothly, and I hate the idea of you all alone during the festivities.”
The offer is flattering and weirdly comforting. “Thank you. I’d like that.”
“We’ll have chairs and snacks. You just bring yourself. Lila can tell you where to find us. Or give me your number, and I’ll text you a map.”
“Do not give her your number,” Lila says. “You don’t need to see the family group chat craziness yet.”
My chest swells with that one small word. I can live with yet .
“Grant, do you golf?” Mr. Parrish asks.
“I have, but not for a long time.”
He beckons me to follow him. “Come see my new clubs.”
The others groan. I’m guessing the new clubs have been a favorite point of pride. I follow him into the garage, where he leads me to a navy blue stand bag kitted out with shiny golf clubs.
“That’s a nice set.” I know enough about the sport to guess he dropped a considerable amount of money on those clubs. Feels a bit like a test. Will I be impressed? Too impressed? Will I try to outdo him?
“They’re not why I asked you out here.”
Oh. A trap, then.
“Why are we out here, sir?”
“I don’t like you seeing my daughter as some temporary vacation fun.”
Mr. Parrish’s voice is hard, his arms crossed tight over his chest. A sinking sensation of guilt without cause courses through my stomach. He’d been friendly enough during the party, but he’s got the protective father stance down now.
“I know she’s a grown woman, and she wouldn’t appreciate me speaking up for her like this. But I didn’t speak up for her the last time around, and that was a mistake.”
It’s not a threat so much as a rebuke of himself, and I respect the hell out of him for it. I’ve wondered just how much her ex kept his true personality under wraps while they were together. It sounds like he made an effort but never managed a complete job of it.
I want to defend myself, and not just to avoid whatever repercussions I might have coming if I don’t. “She’s not just temporary fun. Meeting her was unexpected, yes, but I’m not treating it lightly.”
Although, if he had any notion about the fake part of our deal, I don’t think he would be very understanding.
“I’m not sure how much you know, but her last boyfriend was a real piece of work,” he says.
“I’ve met him.”
“Then you understand why I worry.”
“I do. But I have only good intentions when it comes to Lila. I care for her very much. The last thing I want to do is take advantage of her or hurt her.”
I won’t be that guy. I won’t indulge in all the things I want with her under the guise of playing pretend. I need to be sure that however this plays out, she doesn’t regret anything when I go home. If that means playing the role of fake boyfriend a little less whole-heartedly than I have been, I’ll do it. She’s been through enough already with someone who only took from her, I won’t risk doing the same thing.
His eyes narrow on me so long my skin crawls in anticipation of him using those fancy new golf clubs on my skull. But finally, he relents and eases up on his stare-down.
“She’s got a big heart. It’s been trampled by someone who couldn’t see it for the gift it was. If you’re smart, you won’t do the same.”
I’ve only known her a few weeks, but I understand how precious a gift her heart would be. If I had the chance—a real chance—to win it, I would never let her go.
“No, sir.”
He nods. “Good.”
I take a step toward the garage door.
He lays a hand out to stop me. “Where are you going? I still have to show you the clubs.”