Chapter 35
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Andrew
I didn’t realize two such strong emotions could lay over each other.
When I saw Mr. Sheridan lay his hand on Grace, I felt like my insides were going to boil over.
I could feel the little bubbles scale the walls of my stomach, spilling over the edges through a barely contained fury I managed to tamp down.
And then there’s the worried side of me that aligned more with panic and sheer fear.
Grace looked like she was having a nervous breakdown.
An anxiety attack that rattled her from the inside.
Her entire body shook, and her breathing spiked like she was trying to catch her next breath.
In that moment, I realized my concern for her trumped everything else.
I don’t know what he said to her before I saw them, but whatever it was, it rattled Grace.
She’s been quiet the entire drive home, and when we finally make it into her condo, she slips off her heels and stands at the door.
The blank look on her face tells me she’s replaying the events of tonight.
How it went south so quickly. In the blink of an eye.
Buster runs up to us, his wide smile with his tongue hanging out an obvious reminder that dogs really don’t know how to read the room. Still, Grace pats his head, and he nudges his snout into her thigh, adding a soft whimper.
“Hey, buddy,” I tell him, tugging at his collar. “Let’s give mommy a minute.” He obeys my command and turns back to his spot on the couch.
“Mommy?”
It came out without me even realizing, only going by what she calls herself when she’s talking to Buster. “I don’t know. It just came out,” I respond hoarsely.
She cups her hand to my jaw. “It’s cute.” Her soft smile doesn’t reach her eyes, and it cuts into my chest.
“Hey.” I stoop so my eyes meet hers. She’s trying to not let the whole night be ruined, but I can see her efforts being pulled thin. “Are you okay?”
She nods. “Sorry. I don’t really know why I’m like this.” She runs her hands through her hair and exhales a deep cleansing breath, though it does little to ease her nerves.
I pull her into an embrace, and I feel her fall into me.
“It’s fine, Grace.” I pull away to look at her.
She’s not crying, she stopped as soon as we got in the car, but she doesn’t look any better than when we walked out of the restaurant.
“Go shower and change into something comfortable. I’ll order a pizza or something. ”
“Actually,” she says with her arms wrapped around my waist. “Can you just warm up some leftovers? There should be some of that pasta you made the other night in the fridge.”
“You sure? I can get something else if you don’t want pizza.”
She nods. “I want something you made.”
I lean down to kiss her. A small gentle peck on the tip of her nose. “Yeah.”
“You know, I hardly recognized him.”
Grace is loosely holding a glass Pyrex container of carbonara over her lap.
She must’ve been hungry because as soon as I set down the steaming hot container fresh out of the microwave, she devoured half of it.
She looks calmer, more relaxed, though the somber look on her face hasn’t fully gone away.
“How long has it been since you last saw him?”
“About four years ago,” she tells me, stirring her fork through a loop of noodles. “When he packed up his things and moved out.”
“Here? He lived here?”
She nods. “Perks of having a good divorce attorney. I think he’s still pissed about that one.”
“Why do you call him Frankie? I thought his name was Matthias.”
“Francis is his middle name. His whole family calls him Frankie, and I did too. Since we met. Though, I don’t think anyone calls him that anymore. He grew out of that nickname. Kind of like he outgrew me.” After a weighty pause, she adds, “Why do you call him Mr. Sheridan?”
“Because that’s what he told me to call him.”
She scoffs. “Of course he would.” She takes a sip of her water. When she looks at me, I see a morose smile on her face. “I’m fine. Really. I think just…seeing him threw me off. And I think he thinks he won or got out of what he thinks was a trap of a marriage. He’s probably right.”
My head rears back in disbelief. “What? Why would you say that?”
“It’s true,” she argues. “If I hadn’t changed my mind and wanted kids, he wouldn’t have had to treat me the way he did, and we wouldn’t have had to get divorced.”
“Grace, you have it so wrong.”
“What do you mean?”
“What he did…that’s abuse. He made you feel like it was all your fault when all you did was tell him what you wanted. I mean, yeah, maybe you two wouldn’t have worked out anyway since you ended up wanting different things, but he didn’t need to treat you the way he did. That was a choice he made.”
She sets down her dinner, the remaining oily contents of it now grown cold. She doesn’t necessarily agree with me, but she doesn’t argue the facts I set down in front of her.
“Do you regret divorcing him?”
“No,” she answers quickly. “I want what I want, and yeah, if we can’t agree on something like having a family, then we shouldn’t be together.”
“Then that’s it. Don’t let him get into your head.” She finally smiles a real smile. “And this place that’s rightfully yours? Don’t feel guilty about that either.”
This time she laughs. “I don’t.”
“Good.”
We continue to eat in silence, the clinks of silverware on glass creating a soft buffer we didn’t know we needed.
By the time I’ve washed the pile of dishes in the sink, and Grace is sitting on her couch with a few throw blankets draped over her legs, it’s late.
Buster has his head resting on her lap, and his eyes flit to me as if he’s attempting to ask me if his owner’s okay.
“I’m going to take Buster out,” I announce. “I’ll be back.”
She stops me, pulling at my hand. I sit next to her, temporarily putting off the duty of walking Buster for his bathroom break. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
She sighs, sinking her cheek into my chest. She doesn’t look at me when she answers me. Instead, she wraps her arm over my stomach. “For taking care of me and not getting upset. And taking care of Buster.” Buster lifts his head and licks Grace’s chin at the sound of his name.
I want to tell her she doesn’t have to thank me for taking care of her or Buster.
Not because I don’t appreciate her appreciation, but because I do it all because I want to.
I want to take care of her. I want to take care of Buster, who I’m starting to feel like I share ownership of.
I want to tell her she means more to me than any other woman has.
I want to tell her tonight has made me realize how much I’ve fallen for her.
Overlooking the resentment I have toward Mr. Sheridan, the sheer disdain I carry for him every time I walk into work, I pushed all that aside the second I realized Grace needed me more.
She needed me more than I needed to be mad and resentful.
But I don’t know how to say all this without hooking on the memory of tonight to it.
I don’t want to tell her what she means to me only for it to have a bittersweet taste, knowing it came from a painful trip to her past. So instead, I kiss her temple. “You’re welcome.”