Chapter 25
25
TESSA
“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want,” Grant said, worry in his blue eyes. I wished more than anything I could reassure him, but the closer we got to Christmas dinner at the Dupree house, the more panic was setting in.
It doesn’t matter what anyone in my family thinks, I reminded myself. It didn’t matter if they were surprised or upset or even disappointed because I knew Grant was amazing. He was amazing, and I wasn’t even close to ready to give him up. “I want to,” I replied. “Please don’t confuse my anxiety with regret.”
He nodded, but said no more until he’d pulled into an empty spot in front of his parents’ house. “I’ll let you take the lead, okay?”
I inhaled deeply, my response detached as I prepared myself. “Sure. Thank you.”
I knitted my fingers through his as we walked to the door, pausing to ring the bell, but Grant turned the knob and walked in.
In my fantasies, every single member of our combined families was standing in the entryway to the Dupree home, and Grant and I didn’t even need to say words. They simply looked at our entwined hands and knew.
In reality, the entryway was utterly vacant. Distantly, I heard men yelling at football, and the dull chatter of women beyond. “Let me take your coat,” Grant offered, letting go of my hand so I could slip out of my puffy coat. Agatha appeared as he was hanging it in the closet. “Grant, Tessa, did you both just walk in?”
“We came together,” I replied, glancing at Grant, who was now hanging his own coat.
“That’s nice,” Agatha said mildly, and I knew I had to say more, but she stepped closer with open arms and I leaned in for the obligatory hug. “So glad you’re here.”
“Me too,” I began, ready to tell her Grant and I were together, when over her shoulder I saw Kelly Patterson. I swallowed hard as Kelly smiled brightly, her eyes finding Grant behind me.
“Merry Christmas, Tessa. Merry Christmas, Grant.” While her greeting to me sounded like a generic throwaway, her voice lifted as she greeted Grant.
“I…didn’t know you were going to be here,” Grant said, and though Kelly was the last person on earth I wanted to see, I cringed at his bluntness.
“Grant,” Agatha scolded quietly.
Kelly’s face fell for an instant, then she recovered, and I had to applaud her ability to not be offended by Grant’s unfiltered response. “Your mom knew my parents were spending Christmas in Florida with my brother, and since we’d been out on some dates recently, she invited me here.”
There was a beat of silence where Grant should’ve reassured her, and, against my better judgment, I rushed to fill it. “That’s nice, Kelly. It’s good to see you.”
“Of course, yes, Merry Christmas,” Grant said.
“Well, come on in and warm up,” Agatha said. “Tess, none of your family is here yet except Nora, but I’m sure they’ll get here soon.”
“No problem. How can I help you, Agatha?” I asked, heading into the kitchen.
“Tess?” Grant asked behind me.
It was taking every ounce of my self control not to cry, so instead of turning to make eye contact with the man, I glanced back over my shoulder. “Not now, Grant.” Not ever, probably, because Grant was at Christmas dinner with a girl—the girl his mother hoped he’d choose, for chrissake—and it wasn’t me.
“What did you get Hudson for Christmas?” Emily asked, sitting at the Duprees’ oversized island and placing black olives on her fingers like she was six.
Claire turned a frightful shade of red, a sure sign the answer was blowjobs or something, not that she’d ever tell us. My mind wandered to Grant. He probably had little bruises on his shoulders from my grasp earlier. It didn’t matter, though. I hadn’t seen Grant in at least a half hour, though Kelly had joined us at the island and was currently peeling potatoes.
“I got him some books he wanted,” Claire said. Emily smirked but said nothing. I continued to peel a carrot into long curly strings to top the salad.
“Hudson seems really nice,” Kelly said.
“Yeah, he’s pretty great,” Claire said, her eyes all moony. I flexed my jaw irritably.
Emily popped the olive off her pinky and into her mouth. “How long have you and Grant been dating?”
I would’ve bet a kidney she and Grant were not dating, not in any official sense, at least. Grant was a million things, but he wasn’t a liar. I believed in my soul he’d meant it every time he’d called me his or declared himself mine. I had to believe.
“We’re not exactly dating,” Kelly explained, and I set down the remaining carrot, which had been whittled nearly away by the peeler. “We were paired up for Bridgeport Lights, and then we had lunch together.”
“Fun,” Emily said, trying and failing to sound adequately enthusiastic. I chewed my lip and grabbed another carrot.
“Well, it was lunch at the hospital, so not very romantic, but then we donated our time together at the Bridgeport Holiday Pantry.”
I sighed in relief. Three “dates,” but not one was a real date. In fact, two had been set up by his mother and the third was likely a chance encounter while he was working. Kelly was talking again, but when I looked up I saw Grant across the kitchen, leaning one shoulder against the door frame and frowning so hard the crease in his forehead was canyon-deep. He pulled out his phone, and I felt my wrist vibrate. I shook my head no, just the tiniest movement, but I knew he saw. My wrist buzzed again.
Sighing, I put down my carrot and wiped my hands on the towel I’d thrown over my shoulder. “I’ll be right back,” I murmured, but they were talking about some surgery Emily had done last week and no one was listening to me.
No one except Kelly, apparently, who looked up as I began to walk away, her eyes catching on Grant. “Hey, you. Come help peel potatoes.”
I slipped through the doorway and past Grant, who was shaking his head. Claire and Emily were now looking at him as well, though they both wore less enthusiastic expressions. “I just—I should go check on—” He was stammering, failing to make a point, but Kelly wasn’t taking no for an answer.
“Are you too good for potatoes?” Kelly joked, and I hurried down the hall, putting space between myself and the group. I didn’t hear Grant’s reply.
I’d been to the Dupree home more times than I could count, but my visits were usually limited to the home’s main floor. Today I scaled the stairs, peeking through open doors until I found a bathroom. I stepped in and closed the door, pulling out my phone.
Grant: Talk to me.
Grant: You have to know I’m not dating Kelly. When I said I was yours, I meant it.
I stared down at the screen, not sure if I should reply.
Tessa: I know that, but it doesn’t matter
Tessa: There's nothing to talk about
I spent more time in the bathroom than was entirely necessary considering I didn’t have to go, then opened the door. I wasn’t expecting Grant to be standing just outside the bathroom, but there he was, crowding the doorframe. He pushed forward before I had time to think, closing the door behind him with a gentle snick. “Tess.”
“No, Grant,” I murmured, but it was hard to speak with any conviction because all I wanted was to be wrapped up in his embrace.
“I’m not dating Kelly. I’ll tell everyone now—just let me. I want to be with you, Tess.”
I wanted that—so badly—but it wasn’t that simple. I was shaking my head. “That would humiliate Kelly,” I said. “Besides, haven’t you noticed a common denominator about the women your mother picks for you?”
“A common denominator?” he asked, his forehead knitting as his blue eyes narrowed in confusion.
“They’re not me.”
“That’s not a common denominator,” he protested. “What you’re saying makes no sense.”
“It makes perfect sense. I teach an entire unit on common denominators, thank you very much,” I snapped.
“About similarities?”
“About fractions,” I replied angrily.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Grant asked, his head falling back so he looked at the ceiling.
What was I talking about?
Anything except the truth. The truth hurt too much.
I inhaled slowly, bracing myself, determined not to cry. “I live in Bridgeport. I spend more time with your family than any other woman on Earth except Nora, and she’s already married to your brother, but I am not who my mom picked for you, and I am not who your mom picked for you.”
“Fuck that. You’re who I picked for me.”
My throat burned, but my eyes remained dry. “Grant, I—” I caught myself before any traitorous words could slip out. “I care about you…a lot, but a few months ago you were chasing after my older sister because my mom told you she’d be a good match for you. What position are you in to claim to know what you want? In a few months you could realize you were wrong about me, too. Probably will, if our mothers are right about anything.”
His jaw was clenched so hard I could see it ticking, and his gaze was icy cold. My words had hurt him, and I knew it, but I couldn’t bring myself to take them back. If hurt was what it finally took to end this farce of a relationship, then that’s what I needed to do. “This is a mistake, Tessa.”
“ We were the mistake,” I choked out, far more conviction in my voice than I felt. He winced, and I fought back tears.
“If it’s what you want, then we’re over,” he replied. “No silent treatment, no outing each other to our families. I’ll honor the rules.”