Chapter 39
Grace
Itap my foot nervously as I hold open the creaky, heavy metal door.
Stepping inside the stairwell, which smells faintly of wet laundry and lemon-scented cleaner, we walk up two flights of stairs to my apartment.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little anxious about bringing Danny, CEO of Robot Appliances, to my modest, one-bedroom Columbus apartment.
“Walking up these stairs is my exercise every day. Probably good for me since it’s the only workout I get.”
I turn back with a smile, but Danny isn’t smiling. “There wasn’t a doorman at the desk down there.”
“Oh, yeah,” I say sheepishly. “Craig is the only doorman. He takes breaks throughout the day, so sometimes it’s unmanned. But this area is really safe, so we don’t even really need him.”
A muscle ticks in his jaw. “The main lobby was unlocked, though. Anyone could get in.”
I try to lighten the mood. “Sure, but it comes in handy when I get food deliveries. They can just walk right up to my door, so I don’t have to go down in my pajamas. A perk, if you will.”
It doesn’t take us long to reach my place. I take my keys out as we pass the shared laundry space. With slightly shaking hands, I open the door and gesture him inside with an exaggerated flair. “Welcome.”
He steps into my apartment and takes his shoes off before picking them up and setting them neatly on the mat by the front door. Watching him transports me back into my childhood bedroom, waiting in anticipation for him to remove his sneakers before climbing through my window.
When he straightens to his full height, I realize just how big he looks in my space.
“I know it’ll be hard, but try to refrain from jumping for joy during this tour or else I’ll be treating you for an offseason concussion,” I joke.
He softly chuckles. “I think I’ll manage.”
As soon as the “tour” starts, I realize how ridiculous that word is to describe what we’re doing. Everything in the living area of my place is within several steps of the next place we’re “touring.” I’ve never felt that my apartment was abnormally tiny until now.
Forging ahead, I gesture to the entire living area, an open-concept space with laminate wood flooring.
Big, bright paintings decorate the tenant-white walls along with a large, colorful tapestry.
A small magenta loveseat, a vintage wooden coffee table, and two conversational chairs upholstered in mismatched jacquard patterns complete the space.
He walks closer to my really-nothing-special flatscreen, sitting on a black and silver stand. I laugh when I notice him looking at the stack of old DVDs underneath the TV.
“Yeah, I don’t even know why I keep those. I don’t have the equipment to watch them,” I snort.
Danny only hums in response as I guide him down the short hallway to my one full bathroom.
“A self-explanatory room, one might say,” I playfully introduce. “There’s just a regular sink in here, no touchless faucet to be found.”
Stepping inside the bathroom, Danny picks up my coconut vanilla perfume on the counter. “Is this the same one that—”
“Yeah, it’s the one that Mae got me for my thirteenth birthday. I’ve been wearing it forever.”
“It suits you,” he says simply, setting the perfume back down.
“Thanks. So, uh, if we’re done in here, the last stop is my room right across from us.”
I take approximately two steps to my bedroom door, which is already cracked, and gently push it open. “Go ahead,” I tell him, curious to see what interests him first.
Heading over to my dresser, it’s the pictures on top that catch his eye. He picks up a frame with a photo of me and Ben and studies it for a moment.
“This was your graduation from vet school?”
“Yep! Mia actually took that picture.”
His eyebrows raise. “She didn’t want to be in it?”
“Well, it was just easier to have Mia take pictures.” Averting my eyes, I add, “It was, um, only Ben and Mia there.”
He gently sets the frame down. “Only Ben and Mia came to your graduation?”
“Yeah. I mean, obviously I didn’t have parents there. And Mae was too old to be on her feet walking across campus the entire day.” My voice comes out quieter than normal.
Danny’s whole posture stiffens. “I wish I was—”
Coming up behind him, I touch his shoulder. “We can’t go back and change it.”
Nodding, he turns around and sits on the rose-colored quilt on top of my queen bed.
The corners of his lips twitch as he touches the fabric. “Pink flowers, pink scrubs, pink bedspread.”
I join him, sitting on the corner of the bed frame. “I’m a pink girl. All girls decide what their color is at age five, Danny, and that color follows us around our entire lives.”
“A strawberry girl, through and through,” he says softly, tucking a curl behind my ear.
I clear my throat. “Well, um, shall we check out my fully functional, but robotless kitchen?”
Danny laughs, and we head back into the main living area together.
“This is the kitchen.” My kitchen is tiny and U-shaped, like every other apartment kitchen in the Midwest, with laminate countertops and a dated, white refrigerator that hasn’t been updated in years. I’m pretty sure the serial number is in Roman Numerals.
“I know a whole family of mafiosos wouldn’t fit here.
” I gesture to my small circular wooden table.
“But Mae actually bought it for me. You can see a tiny bee she had custom-carved into each leg.” Made with warm-toned reclaimed oak, darker knots create thick streaks throughout the wood grain, adding interest and personality.
Danny reaches out and runs his fingers across the table before crouching down and carefully touching one of the carved bees, gently pressing his fingers into the grooves.
“It’s beautiful,” he admires.
“Yeah. It’s probably my favorite thing in this place.”
We’re quiet for a moment while Danny takes his time appreciating the craftsmanship.
Once he’s completed his inspection, we each take a seat in one of the four matching oak chairs.
In the center of the table sits a pair of salt and pepper shakers in the shape of a dog and a cat and a large bowl of avocados.
Danny raises his eyebrows and gestures toward the bowl. “Big avocado girl now, huh?”
I swivel my head toward him. “That’s what you’re focusing on after this whole tour?”
“You know, I don’t think anyone really likes avocados.” He scratches the stubble on his chin.
“I like avocados.”
He shakes his head. “No, you just like the flavors that go on avocados.”
“That’s not true!”
Leaning forward in his seat, Danny places his elbows on the table. “It is true. If you put garlic, salt, and lemon juice on your face cream, you’d eat that, too.”
My jaw drops slightly. “Well, this is America. You’re entitled to all the wrong opinions you want, I guess.”
“It’s like how no one likes plain chicken,” he continues. “They’re just keto or kidding themselves.”
I blush and look away.
Danny narrows his eyes, immediately clocking my embarrassment. “Uh oh. What’s that look for?”
“Nothing, I just… I dated a guy that was on the keto diet.”
“Tell me it was a special diet for his health.”
I absentmindedly twirl my hair, trying my best to look Cool and Casual. “It wasn’t. He, um, had a podcast…about ‘Living the Keto Lifestyle.’”
“You dated a man with a podcast? A man with a podcast was your boyfriend?” A huge grin spreads across his face as I glare at the gap between his teeth.
I huff and cross my arms. “Why are you smiling? Shouldn’t you be jealous or something?”
“Jealous? Of the Keto King?” Danny’s shoulders shake with silent laughter. “I’m thrilled, Gracie. This is the best news I’ve had all week. The bar for me is much, much lower than I thought.”
“Hey!”
“Can we call Ben about this? I really want his take, and I haven’t talked to him in forever.” Danny pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Is his number the same as it was in high school?”
“Ben liked him!” I protest.
“He didn’t, Gracie. He didn’t,” Danny says matter-of-factly.
I shoot up from my chair. “Fine! He didn’t like him! He told me to burn my phone, so I wasn’t tempted to go on dating apps anymore! Is that what you want to hear? Stop laughing!”
“No, I just—” He breathes between wheezes. “I just can’t stop thinking about him looking down upon your precious strawberry milkshakes. I bet you were secretly enraged.”
“I just drank them by myself when he wasn’t around,” I admit quietly.
Danny stands up and holds out his arms to me in mock sympathy. “Aw, come here. I would never deprive you of your milkshakes. Your milkshakes are safe with me.”
I begrudgingly walk into his arms. “Okay, now I feel like you’re making it a sex thing,” I mumble into his shoulder.
“Just say when,” he murmurs in my ear.
My body buzzes with electricity at the implication. Even though I’m not ready to return his “I’m in love with you,” my body feels extremely ready to see his body naked.
“Let’s forget about the Keto King,” he announces as I try not to grin.
Danny pulls back from our hug and takes a few steps toward the main sitting area. I follow him and sit down on my loveseat. Looking lost in thought, he surveys the space in one glance.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Go ahead.”
“Why do you live here?” His voice comes out gentle, almost careful, as he lowers himself next to me on the small couch. “It’s nice, but I know you can afford a bigger place.”
“I never wanted a whole house.”
“Why not?”
“I just knew I would never be able to maintain the upkeep, like shoveling the snow, mowing the lawn, doing repairs by myself. I don’t have anyone that can help me with any of that, and I couldn’t pay someone to do it when I first moved back to Ohio.
I was saving every penny I could for the launch of my clinic, and we’re still paying back the start-up loans. ”
Danny frowns and scratches his facial hair. “I hate that you didn’t have anyone here to help with that kind of stuff, Gracie.”
“It’s not like I need a ton of space for one person, anyway. Living so close to Mae, but not with her, was actually the hardest part.”
“Mae must have been so proud of your clinic.”
“Yes, she was.” I smile fondly. “Actually, I still have her sourdough starter in the fridge. I bake a homemade loaf of Mae’s sourdough every Sunday. It helps me feel close to her.”
“I’d love to make it with you sometime.” His large hand blankets mine, warming it up.
My eyes roam his face. The walls I put up ten years ago with Danny are still there, guarding my most vulnerable feelings. I wonder what would happen if I let just one wall down.
“Do you want to spend the night with me here?”
Nodding, Danny’s throat bobs. “But I can sleep on the couch.”
“If that makes you more comfortable, you’re, um, welcome to do that; although, it’s small. My bed isn’t a California King, but it’s more comfortable than the couch.”
“Are you sure?”
I nod slowly. “Platonically, of course.”
He clears his throat, before squeezing my hand. “Anything you want, Gracie girl.”
“Good. I think I have an extra toothbrush.”
“That reminds me. My bags are still in your car.” He stands up.
I really don’t want him to go anywhere. Now that he’s finally here, the idea of him leaving slightly unsettles me. My face heats, thinking about what I could offer him, not knowing whether or not I’m brave enough to mention it.
“You don’t need to leave, I have something you can—”
“Grace, I’m sorry if this sounds like toxic masculinity, but I am not wearing another man’s clothes.” His lips press into a thin line.
“No, it’s not that. I, um, actually have something of yours. One of your football T-shirts, from high school. I can grab it. I usually wear it to sleep, it’s just so comfortable…”
“You wear my old shirt to sleep?” His eyes darken with heat as he steps toward me.
“It’s not a big deal. Like I said, it’s very comfortable, and—”
Looking smug, he throws me a toothy smile. “Great. I’ll take it.”
The pure joy on his face is contagious. My eyes crinkle at the corners as I walk to my room and pull his shirt out of my top dresser drawer. I peek out of the doorway and throw it to him, trying to catch him off guard, but—of course—he catches it, no problem.
Rolling my eyes and grinning, I head to the bathroom. “I’m going to wash up, okay?”
When I come back from the bathroom, Danny is sitting on the bed, wearing his Winfield High Football shirt and boxers. In his hand is my old walkie-talkie I keep in the nightstand. A ghost of a smile graces his lips as he brushes his thumb over the well-used buttons.
“I snooped.”
He stands up, still grasping the walkie-talkie, and comes around to meet me by my bedroom door.
His arms envelop my shoulders, pressing my body to his.
This hug isn’t romantic. It’s a hug best friends give, one that I have years of experience with but haven’t felt in awhile.
My face is scrunched up against his chest as he murmurs into my hair, “I don’t think this will reach Brooklyn. ”
My cheeks lift and my eyes well with happy tears, though none fall.
After a few moments, we climb into my bed, which barely fits both of us.
His breath warms my face when we turn to face each other.
He scoots down so his forehead is level with my collarbone.
When he turns his head to the side, his ear is gently pressed to my chest, right over my heart.
Wrapping his arms around my waist and curling his legs up, he listens to the beat of me.
I run my fingers through his thick, wavy hair and dip my chin to rest it on his head.
Without moving his head, he releases one arm around my waist and reaches for one of my hands in his hair. He brings it down with his, laces his fingers through mine, and for the first time in a long time, we fall asleep as otters do.