Chapter 38 Andrew
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Andrew
It’s almost five a.m. when I wake from my sleep. I have another hour or so before Grace’s alarm is going to go off, but something woke me. Not a loud noise or a jolting movement, but something that combed through my dreams, reminding me what happened in the last twenty-four hours.
I most likely don’t have a job anymore. The one I’ve clung onto for the past five years has been basically stripped from me the second my boss decided to cross a line.
A very deeply fixed line that anyone could’ve seen even from outer space.
But he doesn’t care. Of course he doesn’t care.
In fact, he did it with clear intention.
Whether it was to anger me as his ex-wife’s new boyfriend or to remind me that he will always have a leg up, at work or in my relationship with Grace, he seems to always be in a position where he holds something over me.
Grace stays asleep next to me. It’s not quite light out though I can see the blunted silhouette of high rises surrounding us. Buster whines from his spot at the foot of the bed when I stir. When I sit up, he licks my shin where it’s poking out from the covers.
“Hey buddy.” His thick tail thumps loudly, and Grace turns over in her sleep.
“Shh,” I tell him, but that only excites him more.
Not wanting to wake Grace, I slowly climb out of bed, and Buster hops off and follows me out of the room.
It’s a little early for Buster’s morning walk, but when he stands by the door with a perfected set of puppy-dog eyes, I give in.
By the time I get downstairs, I can see bright streaming lights peek through the skyline like the sun is hiding behind a stencil.
This isn’t how I expected my week to play out.
I don’t know what I’m going to do. Probably fine-tune my résumé and do some online job searches.
Just in case. My job never really left any room for savings or emergency funds, so hopefully I can find something sooner rather than later.
I know I should be furious with everything going on, Grace’s ex-husband throwing low blow after low blow in my direction, even all the shit he said about her in every derogatory way possible.
But I’m not that upset. I mean, sure, my hatred for Mr. Sheridan isn’t going anywhere, but knowing the reasons behind it, I don’t regret it.
He’ll probably throw some assault charges in my direction, making the chances of me finding a new job that much harder by adding a possible misdemeanor to my record.
But knowing it was all for Grace makes a thrill of excitement ripple through me.
I love her, and the act of punching the daylights out her asshole ex-husband seems so insignificant in the grand scheme of things.
I’m in love with someone. With Grace. To the point that I’m willing to risk my job and my career for her.
And all it does is make me wonder what lengths I would go to for her.
It doesn’t scare me. I’ve become this vulnerable man, oozing with all the things most would consider weak, but I feel the strongest I’ve ever felt.
I want to tell her I love her, even tell people about us. Do things couples do out in public without worrying about the wrong person finding out about us. Grace said she might be ready soon to tell Teeny about us. Maybe that can be now.
By the time Buster urges me to go back inside, the round border of the sun can be seen over the pearl of clouds hidden behind unlevel tops of buildings. And I’m ready to go back to Grace too.
When I get back into Grace’s condo, I notice she’s not in bed.
The outline of her is there through the rumpled bed sheets and indented pillow.
Her bathroom door opens, and she saunters back into the room just as I turn to pick her up in my arms. I kiss her, tasting the dewy traces of water mixed with her freshly brushed teeth.
“Whoa, you’re in a good mood this morning.”
“I am,” I tell her, my nose buried in the crook of her neck.
“Where’d you go?”
“Buster wanted to go out.”
“Figured.” She kisses the tip of my nose and adds, “How’s the lip? And your side?”
“It’s fine.” I’d taken another Advil during the night, and the effects of it haven’t worn off quite yet. “What are you doing after work today?”
“Well,” she says, thoughtfully tapping her finger to her chin. “My chess league meeting got canceled, so I guess I can call up my crochet club to see if they want to work on our community afghan.”
“Really?”
She giggles, slapping her hand to my chest. “No! I’m all yours.”
I poke at her side, tickling her sensitive spot to make her squirm. “Smart ass,” I call her endearingly.
“Why? Did you have something planned?”
I think about how to tell her all the things that feel like they’re bursting from my chest. That I love her.
That I want us to be more serious and to tell people about us.
Her family, my sister. Everyone. But right now, rushing with Grace having to leave for work in an hour, doesn’t feel right. So, I tell her, “It’s a surprise.”
Her brows shoot up to her hairline. “A surprise?” she asks skeptically. “I think right now might be a good time to remind you what happened the last time you had a surprise for me.”
I internally flinch at the memory. “Then think of this as a do-over. To make amends.”
She bites her lip, uncertainty written all over her face through her silence.
“And we’ll stay in,” I add, hoping to ease some of her trepidation. “I’ll cook.”
Her face lights up. “Okay.”
With Grace gone the whole day, I stay busy in her condo.
I clean up and do some grocery shopping.
I splurge on some lobster to take a stab at a pasta dish I found online.
I leave Buster on his own after he’s been following me around all morning so I can get a haircut and go home to get a few things.
In particular, an outfit that’s a little more appropriate for a date night, regardless of the fact that we won’t be going out.
It worked out since Grace’s dog walker came by while I was out.
I make a small mental note to tell Grace to give her dog walker a break while I’m temporarily unemployed.
I manage to dig up some candlesticks and dinnerware that look to be set aside for special occasions with its platinum trim and porcelain feel.
By the time Grace walks through the door, the scent of savory butter and cream fills the air.
“What’s going on here?” she asks, a pleased look of approval on her face.
“Dinner,” I tell her. What I don’t tell her about are the acrobatics that were involved to prep and cook a lobster tail. I went in blind and ended up using a YouTube video after I realized how ill-prepared I was. The Pinterest recipe I used definitely kept that from me.
“Now this is the kind of surprise I like.” She wraps her arms around my waist as I’m stirring in the last of the lemon zest. I turn down the heat and turn to greet her.
“Hi.”
A contented, blissful smile looks up at me. “Hi.”
“How was your day?”
“Okay,” she answers. “Better now that I’m home. You?”
“Buster and I had a great day.”
“You did?” She looks doubtful, but her support doesn’t waver.
I nod. “Very productive.”
She pulls away, studying me. Her eyes briefly skim over the cut on my lip. She moves over to the rest of my face like she’s looking for any cracks, any slips where my positive pretense could merely be a mask I’m wearing over the glum attitude she’s expecting me to wear.
“What?” I ask when her skeptical look doesn’t waver.
She shrugs. “Just that…you seem pretty upbeat for someone whose job is up in the air.” I know when she left this morning, my emotional well-being was a concern for her.
She made sure I was comfortable in her apartment.
Told me where she kept an extra box of Buster’s treats, the different frozen dinners stacked in her freezer.
I nearly shoved her out the door with the lunch I packed for her as I assured her I’m an adult and can take care of myself for eight hours.
Even then, she left with an edge of caution. “Has…HR said anything?”
I nod. “They handed me my official termination via Zoom this morning.”
She rubs a hand down my back. “I’m sorry, honey.”
I lean down and kiss her cheek, smothering my misfortune with a little deviation. “I’m choosing to look on the bright side. I hated the job anyway, and some might consider this a sign. Plus, I have other things on my mind. More important things.”
“Yeah? Like what?”
“I’ll tell you over dinner.” I wave a hand in the direction of her dining table for her to see I’ve set it with care. Gone are the usual plates and bowls she told me she bought from Ikea. I even whipped out some wine glasses and a fresh arrangement of flowers.
“What is all this?” she asks with a soft gasp.
“My do-over,” I remind her. “Hopefully this will wipe away the first date from hell.”
“Absolutely.” She tilts up on her toes and kisses me, letting her lips linger over mine. I hold her in my arms while keeping in mind the food is ready to be served and running the risk of it getting cold.
A sudden wave of uncertainty and dread washes over me.
My plan tonight is to wine and dine her.
To show her all the ways she means so much to me before telling her so.
Maybe then she’ll realize that whoever we tell, whether it’s our family or the whole world, it’ll all be welcomed with open arms. I understand her hesitation.
We’re involving the people in our lives who would be wholly invested.
And if things went south, it wouldn’t be a clean break.
It would turn messy and complicated. Kind of like her divorce.
But I’m going to go through with my plan.
I’m going to get through dinner, and we can talk about our future.
With that in mind, I pull out a chair for her.