Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Grace
My feet fucking hurt. I was going through my closet last night, and I found a pair of nude platform pumps.
I completely forgot how badly I do in heels, and by the time I’d walked the ER floor twice, I was already regretting my decision.
As soon as I walk into my condo, I kick them off and stuff them in the back—far back—corner of my closet.
I’m placing a small Band-Aid on my right pinky toe when I hear the front door open.
The key I gave Andrew is being put to good use.
He let himself in over the weekend when I babysat for Jade, and I needed him to feed Buster.
Jade and Trevor’s date night went a little late, into the wee hours of the night, and I was more than happy to spend the extra time with Avery.
She babbled while I fed her dinner, and Jade and Trevor stumbled through their door past midnight, holding back their voices to hushed tones to make sure they didn’t wake Avery.
They looked happy and carefree after their first child-free outing in months.
“Grace?”
“I’m in my room,” I call from the floor, patting down the Band-Aid to smooth out the creases.
He walks in and finds me, giving me a quizzical look as I examine my handiwork. “What happened?”
“I wore some stupid heels today, and they gave me the worst blisters.”
He settles himself in front of me, taking my feet in his hands. He looks at the covered part of my toes and lifts my foot to get a better look. It tilts my balance backward, and I press the heels of my hands into the carpet.
“Here?” he asks, looking at my mediocre bandage work.
I nod. He leans down and puckers his lips before gently brushing them over my toes. His thumb rolls over the arch of my foot, and the pressure travels to my stomach. My head lolls back, and I sigh as the sensation spreads everywhere.
“Hmm, that feels good.”
I catch him smile as he ducks lower and places another kiss where his thumb was, replacing the rapturous pleasure with soft, tender lips.
“That feel good too?”
I hum again, closing my eyes as he reapplies pressure, focusing on the achy balls of my feet. “I should wear heels more often.”
He chuckles warmly, amused by my tactic to get more future foot massages. “I’d love to stay and do more of this,” he announces, “but I’m afraid I have plans.”
“Oh?” I respond, doing a horrible job hiding my disappointment.
He catches on, and he leans forward to kiss me.
When he does, my legs part, giving him easier access, and my suddenly sour mood lightens.
I inhale a deep whiff of him, taking in the freshly sprayed cologne mixing with the scent of the long day settled in the fibers of his shirt.
I fist a handful of his collar and tug him closer, whispering against his lips, “You’re leaving me already? ”
“I was actually thinking you could join me.”
I pull away. “Where?”
“A few of my friends are meeting up for drinks at a bar in Oceanside,” he explains.
“What friends?”
“Hey,” he protests, visibly offended. “I have friends.”
I laugh, realizing how that sounded. I run my hand over his jaw, soothing away the unintentional barb. “What I meant was who are they? How are they your friends?”
He laughs too. No harm, no foul. “My college friends. They’re the ones who live closer to Orange County. We’re meeting in the middle.”
“And do they know you’re bringing a date?” I ask, avoiding his casual invitation.
“No,” he admits, “but they know of you, so…”
“You talk about me to other people? You’ve never told me this.”
“Because we don’t really talk about things that go on outside of our little bubble here.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
He shrugs, looking a little uncomfortable with the shift in our conversation.
“It’s not a big deal. I just noticed you don’t really seem to talk about things besides work, or maybe your family sometimes.
You don’t really talk about Teeny, and I feel like that’s on purpose.
I just thought you don’t want me to talk about… certain things too.”
“Like what?” A daze of confusion swirls in my head. How long has he felt like this?
“I don’t know,” he answers, his continued attempt to not turn this into anything more than an invitation for some drinks. “Like, I don’t really talk about my family with you. Mainly because I don’t want to remind you you’re Teeny’s friend, and that’s the reason we keep this between us.”
I don’t mention there are other factors.
Things like the fact that when I was entering middle school, he was still in diapers.
Or that I’m pushing forty, and I’m reminded every single day my biological clock is ticking away while Andrew has no plans to settle down and start a family any time soon.
It seems in the grander scheme of things, Teeny finding out about us sits at the bottom of the list.
“But I don’t want you to keep things from me,” I assure him.
Though, I know the assurance falls short because he’s not wrong.
I find myself not talking about Teeny either.
I had dinner with her the other day when Andrew was working late, and I never brought it up.
In fact, I was finding ways not to bring it up, intentionally keeping my plans from that night from him.
He ducks his head, averting his eyes from mine. “I just don’t want to scare you away. You seem comfortable and yourself when we’re just here. Or at my place. And…I don’t want you to feel like I’m pressuring you into making this more than what you’re comfortable with.”
I grip his face and kiss him. The kiss turns deliberate, long and drawn out. He leans forward, forcing me further backward to the carpet.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I don’t mean to keep this so private. I’m just…”
“It’s okay,” he whispers back. He brushes his nose against mine. “I get it.”
I like him so much. All of the feelings tug at my heartstrings, and I realize how I never want him to feel like I’m hiding him away because I’m ashamed of him or us. I feel so seen when he tells me he gets it. I don’t have to explain to him all my fears, and he just understands.
“Let’s go,” I tell him. “Tonight. I’ll go with you.”
His eyes light up, making a dull pang hit dead center in my chest. “Really?”
I pout a sad frown, my brow crinkling as I realize how much he’s been holding back. “Really.”
When we walk into the loud and cramped dive bar, it feels like we’ve walked through a small portal, not the stairs leading down into a hunkered basement-style taphouse. Andrew has my hand enveloped in his, and when he looks down at me, he smiles.
“Thanks for coming with me,” he says over the loud vibrations of music and chatter.
“You don’t have to thank me.”
He leans down and places a kiss on my bare shoulder.
I opted for a floral dress. Flowy and light to get me through the summer air that remains stuffy even at night.
It’s held up by two thin strands, leaving behind enough bare skin that shimmers with the extra layer of moisturizer I used.
Andrew hasn’t been able to keep his eyes off me.
At the back that dips low enough to expose the ridge of my spine.
Every time he runs his thumb across my sensitive skin, I see his eyes flare with heat.
He seems to have a thing for my backside.
We weave through the crowd, his hands at his side with the occasional stroke of his fingers against my waist. We reach a table where Andrew greets everyone with hearty hugs and keen handshakes.
“Hey, guys,” Andrew announces. “This is Grace. Grace, this is everybody.”
They go around the high table, following the pattern of the circle they’re huddled around.
“Jake,” says the first, a few inches taller than me with a mop of curly hair atop his head and a handlebar mustache.
“Ro.”
Andrew interjects and says, “That’s short for Rohan.” Ro bares his pearly white teeth from behind a full beard.
There’s a woman within the group, and she smiles warmly at me and extends her hand. “I’m Hayley.”
“Hi,” I respond, folding her hand in mine. I watch as Hayley leans into Ro, hooking her hand over his bicep.
“You want a drink?” Andrew says in a low voice close to my ear.
He’s hovering behind me, his chin less than an inch over my shoulder.
Nearly skin to skin, just like the pads of his fingers still possessively running over my back, right between my shoulder blades.
He’s speaking at a volume barely over the noise, but I hear him over everything.
I look at him and nod.
“You good if I leave you here?”
Before I can answer, Hayley interjects.
“Come on, Andrew,” she calls. Disbelief rings through the mockingly wounded look on her face. “We don’t bite.”
Andrew looks back at me with a grin at the same time I smile at him over my shoulder. “I think I’ll manage.”
Andrew leaves my side, sauntering away, and I catch his backside as he makes his way to the bar.
I catch a few women’s gazes shift to him, distracted as he walks by.
Their eyes take in his height, then linger over his broad shoulders before landing on his face.
Catching the sharp edge of his jawline and perpetually provoking eyes that seem to narrow when he’s in pensive thought and candid when he’s telling me something personal or intimate.
“So, how do you know Andy?”
“Andy?” I repeat. I look at Hayley, my lips downturn in amusement, and I nod, finding this new nickname intriguing.
“Are you his new girlfriend?”
I smile, ducking my head when I feel a flush spread to my cheeks. “Um, no. Nothing like that. We’re…just friends.”
She leans in close, and her elbow bumps against mine. “Sure,” she appeases. She nudges her arm into me, a clear sign she’s calling my bluff. “I won’t tell anyone.” She winks at me before tilting back the glass tumbler in her hand carrying something red-tinged.
“Have you known Andrew long?” I ask. My hands find a lone cocktail napkin, the edge damp from a ring of condensation. I start folding it, twisting the corners and tearing off a small piece. An apparent nervous tic making my hands fidgety with the mention of the foreign and somewhat inexact title.
“A few years,” Hayley says. “Ever since Ro and I started dating. He’s a good guy,” she adds. “First time he’s brought around a girl though.”
That catches my attention. “Really?” The second I utter the question, I realize how desperate I sound. How eager I look to know more about Andrew’s dating life.
Hayley opens her mouth to say more, but she’s cut off when Andrew returns with two drinks in his hands. He has the usual Ketel and soda I drink and an amber-colored bottle for himself. Hayley returns to Ro’s side, playing innocent with her eyes ping-ponging from Andrew to me then back to Andrew.
“Andrew,” Hayley calls. “You should bring Grace to the Coldplay concert in November. She can have Jake’s ticket since he can’t make it.”
Andrew turns to Jake. “You can’t go to Coldplay?” he asks with disapproval.
“It’s my niece’s christening that weekend,” Jake informs him, adding a resigned shrug. “I’ll be in Michigan.”
“Great! It’ll be a double date.” Hayley claps her hands together and grins at us.
Andrew flits his brow up and down. A taunt or some kind of tease, turning this innocent night out into something much more serious.
“So, how about a round of pool?” Jake asks as he slams his empty beer bottle down. “Girls against boys.”
Andrew looks at me. “Ready to have your ass handed to you?”
I face him with narrowed eyes, welcoming his challenge. “Bring. It. On.”