Chapter 22 – Dean
Grace let me in and locked the door behind me before she headed straight to the couch and sat down, curling her legs under her. I followed and sat down close enough that she could show me whatever she had on the tablet perched on the arm of the couch. I really did want to see her illustration work, although if she’d asked me over to scrub floors with her or learn how to crochet doilies in thirty-three easy steps, I would have been all over that, too. This had to be an improvement—not standing at the door first trying to figure out how talking worked.
“Who watched Piper tonight?” I asked.
“My dad and Jill. They took her to dinner and a movie. She fell asleep on the drive home, but she woke up just long enough to hug me and tell me she needed to brush her teeth because she ate so much candy her sweet tooth hurt.”
“She says the funniest things.”
“I know. I love it.”
I was getting distracted by Grace’s hair. She’d taken it out of the braided crown. It was wavy and full around her head, and whatever product she’d put in it smelled like almond extract and honey butter. I wanted to put my nose in her hair and investigate further. And my hands. I definitely wanted my hands in her hair.
“My hair is super crazy right now.” She touched it self-consciously, having noticed me staring at it.
I said nothing, because my thoughts were not in any way shareable, and that led to a drawn-out silence between us, and it was every bit as awkward as the last time I came over.
“I like your hair,” I finally managed to get out. Her matching top and bottom pajamas were cute, too, but I decided not to comment on them in case it prompted her to leave the couch and go change. “So, um. Can I see these butterflies you designed?”
“Oh, sure.” She pulled the tablet onto her lap and woke it up. “I’m not sure what style of illustration they’re hoping for, so I created a couple different designs. This one is in the photorealism style.” She opened a file and showed me a butterfly so lifelike, it looked like it was about to fly off the screen. The colors and textures were amazing. She showed me another illustration of a fuzzy caterpillar that had me reaching out to touch it.
“They’re poisonous,” she said, almost in warning.
“Through the screen?”
“No.” she laughed, looking thoroughly embarrassed. “Sorry, it’s just on my mind because when I researched caterpillars for this, there were about a thousand warnings about caterpillar stings, and how the poison comes out through their hair. Did you ever pick them up and let them crawl across your arm as a kid? I must have gotten lucky.”
“Maybe we don’t have venomous ones around here.”
“I looked that up, too. The wooly bear ones are harmless.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she gave me a playful shove. “You’re making fun of me with your eyes.”
“I am not. I’m just glad I’m not the only one who goes down a rabbit hole of weird Google topics. Don’t ask me what I know about the history of McDonalds and disposable food containers and their insulation properties.”
“I don’t have to ask, because I’ve been down that rabbit hole.”
I put my hands to my heart. “I’ve never been so attracted to you.”
That earned me another shove.
Down the hall, Piper called out in her sleep, but it turned into mumbling before she was quiet again.
Grace turned back to me. “So, um. The other illustrations I made are in watercolor and pen. Would you like to see them?”
“Of course.”
She closed the tablet and walked over to a small desk in the corner, pulling out a large black portfolio and bringing it back to the couch. After taking the elastic off, she carefully showed me its contents. “I painted these yesterday. I’ve already scanned them into my computer, but I figured you’d like seeing the originals.”
“Well, yeah.” I wanted to put them on my walls. Not that I was particularly interested in decorating with butterflies, but I loved the sense of movement she had created. There was storytelling in every image. I particularly like the painting of a girl in a field holding a butterfly net. The net was loose in her hand, and she was looking up at the butterflies overhead, like she’d been distracted from her task. “She looks just like Piper’s friend from the lemonade stand.”
“You can tell?” Grace looked up at me and bit her lip. “I asked Molly if I could use Lucy as my inspiration for this one. She said as long as she gets to keep the original.” She took the board out of my hands and put it with the rest of the stack in her lap, carefully covering them back up and then placing them into the portfolio. “So, that’s what I promised to show you.”
“Is that my cue to leave?” I asked. I was only half joking. It was getting late, and while I’d get to sleep in tomorrow, Grace would be opening up the flower shop .
Grace got up with the portfolio and put it back in the desk. “What time is it right now?”
“Ten-forty-five.”
“Can we talk about the offer from Flowers United?”
I nodded and waited for her to sit back down. “What are you thinking?”
She clasped her hands in her lap. “I want to accept. And not the management offer. Managing is actually what I like least about owning my own business. My employees might even be relieved to work for someone else. I’m not mean, and I always try to be fair, but I don’t explain things well. I honestly thought most of my employees were dumb until Isaac trained them for me. None of that is news to you. You’ve been there with us through all the growing pains. Mine just… never end.” She let out a whoosh of air, like letting all that out was a long time coming. And then she looked at me and shrugged.
“Most people are not as self-aware as you, Grace.”
“That’s been a long time in the making, too.” She shook her head and laughed. “Did I mention I’m stubborn? I’m really stubborn.”
“I like you that way.”
“You’re a liar.”
“I’m not.” I scooted closer and picked up her hands, lacing them with mine. “I’m not making a move, Grace. I’m just… expressing my feelings for you through interpretive dance.” I moved our joined hands in two slow circles, making her laugh.
“You are a goofball.”
“This is true.” I kept my gaze on our hands, afraid if I looked at her, she’d see right through my stupid joke. I liked holding her hands. A lot. “Don’t forget to see your strengths, too. Not just your weaknesses. You never give up, and you’re responsible. You’re cautious because you always want to do the right thing. You’re creative and talented and driven. And you’re a great mom. Piper is so blessed to have you. ”
Grace was quiet for a minute, her eyes on our joined hands as well. I kept my hold loose, in case she wanted to pull away. “Dance with me,” she finally said. “You pick the song this time.”
“What kind of song?”
“Surprise me.”
I stood up and pulled out my phone, my mind going in two directions. I wanted to make her laugh again, but I also wanted to hold her close. The good kind of close. A cuddle, not a headlock.
However, it would be a little hard to blame kissing her on interpretive dance, so I went with something decidedly not romantic. I chose Michael Jackson’s “Thriller,” making her laugh out loud when she recognized the opening notes.
“I’m not doing that.”
“Come on, Grace.” I dropped my phone on the couch and held out my hand. After a few seconds, she took it, letting me pull her to her feet. That was all it took. She stalked forward with her hand against my chest, making me stalk backward to the beat, and then I flipped it on her, stalking towards her while she moved back, both of us dodging her living room furniture. We made a last second jump over the stupid ottoman, laughing our way through what we could remember of the music video with our zombie hands out front, and the shimmy and hand clap above our heads. She remembered way more than me, despite giving me looks the whole time for choosing it.
Grace picked up my phone at the end of the song, and in retaliation, turned on an Usher song I’d heard at way too many parties.
“Why does he have to whisper his name at the beginning of all his songs?” I asked.
Grace ignored me, rocking out with her hair flying everywhere.
I was wrong. This was not making me want to kiss her less. I wanted to kiss her more .
We took turns picking songs and dancing like lunatics until I startled at the sight of Piper standing right below me with her arms crossed, staring up at the two of us indignantly.
“You had a dance party without me?”