Chapter Six #2
Suddenly, every thought in his head scattered. Before he could talk himself out of it, before common sense could catch up, he lifted a hand to her cheek and leaned in, pressed his lips against hers.
The kiss was soft, barely more than a brush of his lips against hers. But it stole the breath from his lungs all the same.
For a heartbeat, the world seemed to disappear around them. No lost years. No unanswered questions. Just the warmth of her lips beneath his and the overwhelming relief of knowing she was real.
When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested lightly against hers.
“Amelie, I never stopped looking for you because I never stopped loving you.”
Another tear slid down her cheek, but a small smile tugged at her lips. Then her hands found the front of his shirt, and she lifted up on her toes and kissed him.
Grant knew one thing with absolute certainty. He and Amelie weren’t done. Not by a long shot.
◆◆◆
When the kiss finally broke, Amelie had no idea what to do with herself.
For several seconds, she stood there with her hands still curled in the front of Grant’s shirt, her breath uneven and her heart beating so hard she was almost certain he could feel it.
Oh God. She had just kissed Grant. But damn it had felt good. No, just good. It was terrifyingly good.
It had felt like coming home to a place she had convinced herself no longer existed. His arms were still as strong as she remembered, his touch still somehow steadying and unraveling her all at once.
For twelve years, she had told herself that time had changed things.
That memory had softened the edges and made him seem more perfect than he actually was.
But standing here now, wrapped in his arms and still feeling the imprint of his mouth on hers, Amelie realized the truth was far more dangerous.
Time hadn’t exaggerated him. If anything, it had failed to prepare her for what seeing him again would do to her.
Grant’s thumb brushed lightly against her cheek, wiping away a tear she hadn’t even realized had fallen. “Mel,” he said softly, and hearing the old nickname nearly broke her all over again.
She closed her eyes for a brief second because she couldn’t look at him and think clearly at the same time.
That had always been the problem with Grant. One look from those green eyes and every carefully constructed wall inside her started to crumble.
But this wasn’t twenty-three-year-old Amelie standing outside a vineyard with a broken heart and a terrifying secret.
She was older now. She was stronger and a mother.
A woman who had built a life from the ruins of the one she had thought she lost. And as much as she wanted to sink into his arms and pretend everything could be as simple as one kiss beneath Christmas lights, it couldn’t be.
They had too much to talk about. Too many missing years. Too many unanswered questions.
Then a thought slammed into her so abruptly that she pulled back.
Grant’s hands loosened immediately, though he didn’t fully step away. “What is it?” he asked.
“Tyler and Trevor,” she said, panic rising so quickly it nearly stole her breath. “Where are they? Are they okay?”
A small smile touched his mouth, and despite the chaos in her chest, the sight of it made something inside her ache. “They’re fine. They’re inside with Mac, Jessie, Nico, and Rafe.”
Amelie stared at him. “You left my sons with former Navy SEALs?”
“Yes.”
“And you think that’s reassuring?”
His smile widened. “Considering our sons managed to locate me, interrogate me, and help plan this little reunion, I’m not sure the SEALs are the ones you should be worried about.”
A disbelieving laugh escaped her. “They did what?”
Grant’s expression softened, and the humor faded just enough for the weight of the moment to return. “They figured it out, Mel.”
Her stomach dropped. “What do you mean they figured it out?”
He slid his hands into his pockets, watching her carefully as if he was trying not to spook her. “I ran into them last night in the hallway. Or technically, they almost ran into me while trying very hard not to run because apparently you’d given them a speech about behaving.”
“I always give them a speech about behaving.”
“I gathered that.” His mouth curved faintly, but his eyes remained serious.
“When they looked up, the first thing that caught me was their eyes. I thought it was strange, but I brushed it off because plenty of people have green eyes. Then I saw them again today at the lodge, and they came over to my table. They asked if I knew Amelie DuPont. Then one of them corrected it and said I might know you as Amelie Cross.”
Amelie pressed a hand against her stomach, though she had no idea whether she was trying to steady herself or hold herself together. She could picture it too easily. Her boys standing in front of Grant with all that courage and all those questions they’d carried for years. “They asked you that?”
Grant nodded. “Then they told me you were their mom.” His voice roughened slightly. “And that they were my sons.”
Tears filled her eyes again before she could stop them.
She had imagined this moment more times than she could count, usually in the darkest hours of the night when regret had a way of making old choices feel heavier.
She had imagined Grant angry, hurt, and cold.
She had imagined him demanding answers, accusing her, hating her for keeping something so important from him.
What she had never imagined was him standing in front of her with tenderness in his eyes, talking about their sons like they were already the greatest gift he had ever received.
“Are you mad?” she whispered.
Grant’s brows drew together as if the question physically hurt him. “No.”
“Grant—”
“No,” he repeated, stepping closer. “I’m confused. I have questions. A lot of them. But mad?” He shook his head, his voice softening. “No, Mel. I’m not mad.”
The tears spilled over then, sliding down her cheeks as the last of her strength seemed to leave her all at once. Grant lifted his hand and gently wiped them away, his touch so achingly familiar that she almost leaned into it.
“I should have told you,” she said, the words trembling as they left her. “I know I should have. I need to explain everything to you.”
“I want to hear it,” he said quietly. “All of it.”
She nodded, swallowing against the tightness in her throat as she looked around the patio.
The covered terrace was quiet, tucked away from the hotel’s noise and warmth.
It wasn’t exactly the place she had imagined, finally telling Grant the truth, but then again, nothing about this reunion had gone the way she would have imagined.
“We should sit,” she said.
Grant nodded. “Okay.”
He guided her toward the sofa by the fireplace without touching her too much, as though he was giving her space while still making sure she didn’t fall apart completely. That somehow made her want to cry again.
She sat first, and Grant lowered himself beside her, close enough that she could feel his warmth but not so close that she felt trapped. For a long moment, they sat there, staring at the orange flames of the fire.
Amelie took a shaky breath. “The night of your brother’s wedding rehearsal, I planned to tell you that I was pregnant.”
◆◆◆
Grant looked at her. “You came to tell me?”
Amelie nodded, her gaze fixed on her hands.
“I found out the week before. I was scared, Grant. I was twenty-three, barely getting my footing in design, and you were already building this whole life in the Navy. I knew it wasn’t part of the plan, but I was going to tell you.
I wanted to tell you. I thought maybe… maybe after the shock wore off, we’d figure it out. ”
“We would have,” he said immediately, unable to stop himself.
Her eyes squeezed shut.
Grant forced himself to be quiet, even though every instinct in him wanted to reach for her, to tell her over and over that she never should have carried that fear alone. But this wasn’t the time to interrupt.
“I went looking for you that night,” she continued, “I found you outside near the main building with your brother. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but I heard him ask you what you’d do if some woman showed up and told you she was pregnant.
” She let out a broken little laugh that held no humor. “Terrible timing, right?”
Grant’s stomach sank. Oh shit! He remembered that conversation, too, and suddenly he knew. Before she even said it, he knew exactly what she had heard.
Amelie turned toward him then, tears bright in her eyes.
“You said you’d lose your mind, that having a kid then would have been a disaster.
” She paused and took a breath. “I know now that I probably should have stayed and made you look me in the eye while I told you the truth. But I was scared, Grant. I was pregnant and terrified and already convinced I was about to ruin your life. So, when I heard you say that…” Her voice cracked, and she looked away. “I believed you.”
Grant closed his eyes as the memory slammed into him.
He could hear his brother’s teasing voice, the casual question tossed out with a laugh, the way he’d answered without realizing the only woman who could destroy him was standing within earshot.
He also remembered what he had said next.
The part that Amelie hadn’t heard. The part that would have changed everything.
“Mel,” he said, his voice rough. “I said that because I thought he meant some random woman.”
She stilled beside him, and he turned fully toward her. He needed her to hear every word.
Grant turned fully toward her, needing her to hear every word. “I did say all of that, but now I know that you didn’t stick around for the next part.”
“What part was that?”
“I told him that if the woman were you, I’d marry you before the week was over.” Grant continued, the words burning in his throat because twelve years had been stolen by a conversation she had only half-heard. “I told him I still loved you.”