Chapter 20
Chapter twenty
It’s a Christmas miracle. Snow in central Texas.
Really, it’s more of a dusting—melting the moment it lands on your palm—but by the time I pull into Grant’s driveway, it coats the rooftops like powdered sugar and makes everything sparkle.
The only thing breaking the peace is my phone buzzing nonstop in the cup holder. Ivy’s name flashes across the screen again. She found my note under the tree, which means she’s currently alternating between worrying and dreaming up different ways to strangle me.
I’ll deal with apologizing to her later. For now, I have another apology I need to make.
I place a hand on my stomach and let out a deep breath to ease the knot of nerves. I can do this. I just need to act like I’m in court.
I cut off the engine, grab the letter, and march to the door before I can talk myself out of it.
When I ring the bell, I instantly regret not changing into something more put-together.
Jeans and boots aren’t exactly something I’d wear to court.
Maybe I should run to the gas station, change, and come back—
The door opens, and it’s too late.
“Eve?”
Just hearing Grant’s voice makes my whole being yearn. Seeing him makes me ache. While it’s still early morning, he’s dressed in jeans, a soft gray sweater, and the scarf I got him from the market.
I want to reach out, grip that scarf, and kiss him, but the guarded look in his eyes keeps me from acting on the impulse.
Instead, I square my shoulders and lift the letter. “Grant, hi. Good morning, er, that is Merry Christmas. I came to give you this.”
He frowns. “Am I being served?”
“No! I would never.” He lifts one eyebrow and I shrug. “I mean, I would, but that’s not what this is.”
He finally takes it, gently unfolding it to read its contents. Meanwhile, I can barely breathe. My stomach twists a little more with each second he stays silent.
When he finally looks up, his expression is unreadable. “Eve. What is this?”
“It’s a custody agreement.” His eyebrows shoot up, and I rush on before he can say anything.
“It’s my plan to make everything up to you.
You get to celebrate every holiday and birthday with Braxton and Ivy for the next two years—except Nia and Amani’s first birthday, obviously.
I mean, I am a first-time aunt. After that though, we’ll split them evenly, alternating every year. ”
I stop talking, though my pulse thuds in my ears. He’s studying me and I can’t read a single thing in his normally expressive face.
“A custody agreement,” he says slowly, “for two grown adults.”
“And their kids,” I add weakly.
His mouth twitches, but he schools it quickly.
He looks down at the paper again, shakes his head, and huffs out something between disbelief and laughter. “You came all the way here to tell me you want to trade off birthdays, Christmas, New Year’s, even Juneteenth, like we’re divorced parents?”
“That’s exactly what I did, because you deserve to be able to show up for your family without my hindrance.
” I pause, my heart thumping wildly. “But now that I’m here, I realize it’s not what I want.
I didn’t come because of some agreement.
I came because I miss you. I came, because I was wrong to push you away. ”
In the stretching silence, his eyes soften.
Finally, Grant steps back, opening the door wider. “Come inside before you freeze.”
I step over the threshold and into Grant’s home.
He closes the door, leaning against it with a sigh. “I knew you were going to do this.”
I eye him. He’s so handsome it should be illegal. “Do what?”
“Realize you were pushing me away because you were scared, then try to make it right by sacrificing yourself in some overcomplicated gesture.” He holds up the paper with a smirk. “Like drafting a custody agreement instead of just saying you’re sorry.”
I don’t know whether to be offended or amused. He knows me so well. “You’re unbelievable.”
He balls up the paper and tosses it toward his open office. It lands perfectly in the wastebasket.
“Nothing but net,” I mutter.
“Nothing but net,” he echoes, closing the distance between us. “You don’t have to trade holidays with me, Eve. You just need to stop running.”
My voice cracks. “I’m trying.”
“I know.” He steps closer, his hand finding my cheek, warm and sure.
I step into his warmth. “So don’t give up on me. Please.”
His thumb traces my cheek, slow and tender while he wraps his free hand around my waist. “I won’t.
I can’t.” A self-deprecating laugh. “I've tried. You’re stubborn, and a control freak, and you drive me up the wall the way you try to take the world on your shoulders. But I have been in love with you since the minute I saw you. And every moment that we’ve spent together has felt like a gift. ”
I lean into his touch and close my eyes, reveling in his words. The feeling he gives me—butterflies, hope, joy—all wrapped with a bow.
I didn’t think I’d ever feel this way again. Not after losings so much or convincing myself that kind of happiness was for other people. But Grant changed that. He made me believe in the possibility of family again, of laughter in a kitchen, of a future filled with more than memories and grief.
This must have been what Dad felt when he let himself love Ms. Thomas. Standing here with Grant, I believe every single one of Ms. Thomas’s words—this is what Dad wanted for me. To open my heart and let love in.
I slide my hands over Grant’s chest and around his neck. Standing on my toes, I breathe him in, noticing the slight smile across his lips. “I love you too.”
And then we’re kissing. It’s slow and sweet, full of promises and love.
“You taste sweet,” I say when we pull apart.
“I just had some hot cocoa,” he says. “You can have some if you want.”
“It’s about time you offered me some.”
“If you wanted some, that’s all you had to say. Because there’s one thing I don’t play about—”
“Let me guess,” I say. “Hot chocolate?”
He kisses the tip of my nose. “Nope. You.”
I don’t try hiding my goofy smile.
Grant grabs my hand and pulls me toward the kitchen. “Come on. I’ll make you a cup and then we need to head out.”
“Head out? Where?”
“Back to Ivy and Braxton’s. Ivy’s been blowing up my phone all morning and wondering where you are. I’m not going to repeat the threats she made, but I never realized how scary she is.”
“That, she is.”