Chapter Nineteen
“You didn’t have to come,” Grant said to Tony for the umpteenth time since he’d picked him up at his apartment.
“At this point, it’s like being invited to a car crash. How could I refuse?”
“Easy. You just say no.”
Tony rolled his eyes, checked his phone, then tucked it back in his jacket pocket. “Don’t worry, we won’t hang out with you that long. I’m actually worried your complete lack of game is contagious.”
“Being straight isn’t contagious.”
Tony chuckled. “Don’t waste all your good material on me.” He looked up at Grant. “Do you have a plan? Because so far winging it hasn’t worked out for you.”
“I have a…something,” Grant grumbled. He didn’t have a plan and even if he did, he’d forget it the moment he saw Ivy. He’d get distracted by one of the short curls at the back of her neck and it would all be over for him.
“Good, because here they come.”
Brad and Ivy were walking toward them from the parking lot, and it hit Grant how tall Brad was. Ivy was a very average height for a woman, but Brad probably had a foot on her. Tony, if he stood really tall and had on thick-soled shoes, was maybe six feet.
“So, do you like him because he makes you feel small or do you have a Slender Man fetish I don’t know about?”
Grant timed his quip perfectly because Tony didn’t have a chance to retaliate before Ivy and Brad reached them.
Even though she was bundled up against the cold, Ivy looked perfect to him.
Her red wool coat made her pink cheeks glow, and her hair was braided into a pair of pigtails under her black beanie.
Even the practical boots she’d probably dug out of a closet were adorable.
“You look warm,” he said, and kicked himself mercilessly for the lame opening line.
Ivy took her hands out of her pockets. They were encased in black knitted mittens. “I’ve got hand warmers in here.”
“I might need to borrow those.”
“I’ve got extras,” Ivy said and dug in her pocket. She produced an orange-and-red plastic packet. “Here.”
Tony gave a loud fake cough.
“Thanks,” Grant said, tucking the packet into his pocket. “Shall we?”
He handed the man in the ticket booth a twenty dollar bill to cover admission for all four of them.
“If we talk about work, I think this becomes tax deductible,” Tony said. Grant shot him the dirtiest look he could imagine. Tony clamped his lips together to suppress an evil grin.
“This is so cute,” Brad cooed, reminding Grant of an owl with the way his head swiveled, trying to take in all the lights and decorations.
“There’s so much more than I remember,” Ivy marveled. “I didn’t think this would live up to my memories, but it’s better.”
“We’ve made some improvements in the last ten years,” Grant said.
The entrance this year was a tunnel of white lights with delicate icicles hanging from the top of the arch.
Polar bears and penguins lined either side, leading the way through the tunnel.
As they neared what Grant knew was the end, the lights turned into a gradient rainbow and there was a bend in the tunnel.
When they turned the corner, the tunnel ended and they were transported to a colorful candy forest.
Grant soaked in the beauty of Ivy’s wide-eyed wonderment.
“It’s like Willy Wonka,” she said, examining the larger-than-life lollipop next to her.
“The committee did pull inspiration from lots of sources.”
“Are you on the committee now?” she asked, a mixture of disbelief and amusement accompanying the laugh in her voice.
“No, but I’ve been volunteered to help build the set pieces over the last few years.”
“So you made this?” She pointed to a candy cane almost as tall as Brad.
“No, those we were able to buy. They’re really light and made of plastic. I built”—Grant took her mittened hand and led her through the magical candy land—“that.”
A playhouse-size gingerbread house was tucked into another bend in the path. Kids ran in and out of the structure, excited to tell their parents there was a kitchen with a glowing oven inside.
“I left the painting to other people,” he told her with genuine honesty but feigned modesty. “Tony and I built the house and added the scalloping and the candy pieces.”
“When did you have time to do a project like this?”
“We started in the spring and worked on it all summer.” Realizing how it sounded, he quickly added, “Not just the house. It didn’t take us all summer to build a playhouse.”
“I struggle to hang pictures, so no judgment from me,” Ivy said. “It looks incredible. You could make a business out of producing fairy-tale playhouses.”
“At least I wouldn’t have to wait on plumbers anymore,” Grant joked.
“Would your clients be worse or better if they were five years old?”
“That’s a toss-up, but I feel like the level of unrealistic expectations would stay the same.”
“Moat full of sharks versus…”
“Moving load-bearing walls without increasing the time or budget of the project,” he answered easily.
“You had that answer locked and loaded.” Ivy grinned at him, and his heartbeat stuttered.
She peeked in the windows of the gingerbread house, and he took the opportunity to shamelessly admire her ass.
It was a miracle he’d gotten anything done the summer they worked together, because they’d had so many tasks that involved bending over.
Nineteen-year-old Grant would sneakily stop and stare.
When she straightened, he began to innocently inspect a knee-high gumdrop.
“Did you see where Brad and Tony went?” she asked.
Grant looked around. The pair had disappeared. “Tony did say he planned to ditch us.”
“Brad alluded to a similar plan.” She sighed. “I can’t be mad about it when he leaves on Tuesday.”
“You could be mad. He’s your friend and he ditched you to hang out with a boy,” Grant pointed out as they fell into step.
“This is not the first time Brad has ditched me to hang out with a boy. It is the first time I haven’t rolled my eyes about it. Even though he called me Popcorn Girl all summer, Tony always seemed really nice.”
“He is really nice,” Grant said, feeling the need to defend his best friend’s honor. “I wouldn’t still be friends with him if he wasn’t a great guy.”
“But is he boyfriend material? There are lots of great people who aren’t interested in being in a relationship.
I just…” Ivy sighed, putting her hands in her pockets.
“I don’t want Brad to get hurt because Tony isn’t a relationship kind of guy.
And I’m not saying that Brad even wants it to go that far right now, but I’ve seen him get hurt so many times that if this is never going to go anywhere, I’d like to be able to tell him now so he can make a clean break when he leaves. ”
Grant slowed his steps so he could think.
Relationships weren’t something he and Tony spent a lot of time talking about.
Since he’d come out, Tony had only mentioned “seeing someone” on three separate occasions, but he’d never been ready to share details, and things seemed to peter out before they could get serious.
Grant suspected that wasn’t the kind of answer that would put Ivy’s mind at ease.
“I don’t think Tony would lead Brad on, if that’s what you’re worried about. Tony’s an honest, straightforward guy. It has to mean something that this is basically the third date he’s been on with Brad in less than a week.”
Ivy’s eyebrows drew together like he’d asked her to calculate what time two trains traveling at different speeds would reach the same station.
“The movie theater…here… What was the third date?”
“Pie. They shared a piece in a very public place and, no offense to Brad, he’s about as incognito as Big Bird. Personally, I feel that if Tony is willing to open himself up to that much gossip, he must think Brad is special.”
“I’ll give you five bucks if you work the Big Bird line into your best man speech at their wedding.”
“Deal.” They shook on it.
Snow began to fall in feathery flakes. Their pace had slowed so much that they were all alone as the candy forest transitioned into the section themed after the song “Winter Wonderland.” Sleigh bells played through speakers hidden in fake snowballs.
A thought that made Grant’s stomach flip and twist wouldn’t stop bouncing around his head. He knew he wouldn’t get a moment of sleep if he didn’t say something.
“You know,” he started, fighting to keep his voice from trembling, “we’ve been on about three dates, too. Do you think Tony is interrogating Brad the same way you interrogated me?”
Ivy frowned at him. “We’ve been on three dates?”
He was nauseous but plunged on, ignoring the off-ramp on his personal highway to hell. “The movie, pie, and this.”
“But…you didn’t eat any of my pie.”
“I got you a hot chocolate,” he reminded her.
“If bringing me things I didn’t ask for counts as a date, I think Hastings is my boyfriend,” Ivy joked, but he could hear an edge in her voice.
Grant stopped, his heart in his throat and his stomach somewhere around his ankles. “Did I do something wrong?”
Ivy had made it a few feet ahead of him but stopped and looked at the sky, wispy snowflakes landing on her eyelashes, cheeks, and nose.
“I don’t know, because I don’t understand what’s happening here.
You said the movie was an olive branch. You bought me a hot chocolate but sat across the table from me.
And you called this a hangout.” She threw her hands in the air, exasperated.
“You’re you.” She gestured to her right.
“And I’m me.” She gestured to her left. “And why is the snowman dressed up like an old-timey preacher?”
She pointed to the snowman they’d dressed up as Parson Brown from the song. Behind him was a Vegas-wedding-chapel-style neon sign that said, Will You Marry Me? Red, white, and pink hearts hung from the tree branches.