18. #2
When he reappeared a moment later he had pulled on a crisp white button-up shirt and was working his way down the row of buttons while speaking.
"One of my closest friends actually works at the White House," he said.
I glanced up.
"He's the director of the Secret Service. Alexander Ward. Do you know him?"
My head lifted slightly. "Yeah, I know him."
Grant looked surprised. "You've met him?"
"Not exactly," I said. "But when I first started seeing you I asked Reese to check with him about making sure no personnel followed me to my appointments."
Grant nodded slowly.
"I can ask him to let me know when Rodney gets back into DC."
That idea made me hesitate.
"You don't think he'll ask questions?" I asked. "About why you need to know that?"
Grant shrugged.
"I'll make up something."
I shook my head slightly.
"I don't want you lying to your friends."
Grant laughed under his breath.
"The only other option is telling him I'm sneaking around with Rodney's wife."
My teeth caught briefly on my bottom lip.
Grant noticed the reaction immediately.
"It'll be fine," he said gently.
He disappeared into the closet one last time and came back a minute later fully dressed, his shirt tucked neatly into his pants and his shoes already on.
He nodded toward the door.
"Come downstairs with me?"
I slid off the bed and followed him out of the room.
Halfway down the staircase his arm draped easily across my shoulders, pulling me slightly closer to his side as we reached the kitchen.
"Do you want a coffee?" he asked.
"Yes, please."
Grant moved toward the counter and started messing with the Keurig while I climbed onto one of the bar stools, letting my eyes wander around the house again.
"Have I ever told you your house is beautiful?" I asked.
Grant laughed softly.
"You've mentioned it once or twice."
"No, seriously," I insisted. "You decorated it really well."
He glanced over his shoulder with a smile.
"Thank you."
The coffee machine hummed quietly for a moment.
Then the front door keypad beeped. Grant's head snapped toward the sound. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion for half a second before something like recognition flashed across his face.
"Shit."
I straightened on the stool.
"Who is that?"
Grant was already walking toward the door.
I couldn't see him from the kitchen anymore, but I heard the lock click open.
A female voice drifted inside.
"Grant?"
There was a pause.
Then Grant's voice, lower and confused.
"What are you doing here, Isa?"
"It's twelve," she said, sounding equally confused. "I told you I was canceling my gym membership and using yours instead so I can save money, remember? I've only been doing this for the last six months."
Silence stretched for a second.
"Are you okay?" she continued. "Why are you here? Aren't you supposed to be at the office?"
Another pause.
Then I heard her again.
"Whose car is that outside?"
My stomach tightened slightly.
There was the faint sound of shoes shifting against the floor.
And then—
A small gasp.
Her voice dropped immediately into a whisper.
"Is there a girl here?"
Grant said something too quiet for me to make out.
But she spoke again before he could finish.
"Can I meet her?"
"Bye, Isabel."
"Wait—what?" she protested. "I can't use the gym because you have a girl here? True colors are showing."
I heard Grant sigh.
A moment of muffled back-and-forth followed, their voices overlapping too much for me to pick out the words clearly.
Then she spoke again, sounding far too amused.
"Come on, I just want to see what she looks like."
More shuffling.
"Alright, alright," she said finally. "I'll go. I'll just pay for a day pass somewhere."
A beat passed.
"Actually," she added casually, "you're going to pay for a day pass somewhere for me."
Grant muttered something under his breath.
"Can I at least use the bathroom?" she asked.
"Use the one upstairs," Grant replied quickly.
"I cannot hold it long enough to go all the way upstairs."
Footsteps suddenly moved deeper into the house.
Toward the kitchen.
I straightened instinctively.
A second later she rounded the corner.
She was wearing a butter-yellow workout set, the color bright against her skin, with a matching headband holding her hair back in a high ponytail. She looked like she had just walked out of a fitness class.
The moment she saw me, she stopped dead.
Her eyes widened.
Her mouth dropped open.
"Mrs. Housner—"
Her gaze flicked to Grant behind her.
Then back to me.
Then slowly down to the oversized clothes I was wearing.
Then back to Grant again.
"Oh," she said.
A slow grin started creeping across her face.
"Oh shit."
Heat rushed straight into my face.
"Hi, Isabel," I said awkwardly.
I ran my fingers quickly through my hair, suddenly very aware of how ridiculous I probably looked standing in Grant's giant clothes.
"It's not what it—". The explanation barely made it out of my mouth before the panic hit.
"I should go."
The words came out fast, more reflex than decision.
Grant stepped forward immediately like he'd been expecting that reaction. His eyes flicked briefly toward Isabel before settling back on me.
"You don't have to," he said, calmer than either of us probably felt. "Unless you want to."
He jerked his thumb in Isabel's direction.
"She won't say anything."
Behind him, Isabel made an exaggerated show of sealing her lips. She mimed turning a key and tossing it over her shoulder before straightening proudly.
"Lips sealed."
Grant exhaled through his nose, clearly unimpressed.
"She's not the most competent, reasonable, sly, or smartest—"
"Asshole," Isabel muttered under her breath.
Despite the tension twisting in my chest, a small laugh slipped out.
Grant ignored her completely and looked back at me, his expression softening again.
"But she can keep a secret."
Isabel nodded emphatically like she had just been given a promotion.
"Yeah. I can."
Grant didn't look convinced, but he let it go.
"You really don't have to leave," he told me again, his voice quieter now.
Isabel leaned forward eagerly.
"No seriously, don't leave," she said. "I promise I won't tell a soul."
Grant turned toward her with the patience of someone who had dealt with this personality his entire life.
"Didn't you say you had to use the bathroom?"
Her eyes widened slightly.
"Oh right," she said. "I did say that."
She turned and headed down the hallway.
"I'll be right back."
The bathroom door closed a second later.
The moment it did, Grant grabbed his keys off the counter and nodded toward the front entryway.
"Come here for a second."
I followed him toward the door, my stomach still tight with embarrassment.
He lowered his voice once we were out of Isabel's hearing range.
"Are you sure you'll be comfortable with her here?" he asked.
This time there was no teasing in his expression—just quiet concern.
"I can tell her to leave."
I shook my head quickly.
"No, it's fine."
He didn't look convinced.
"I promise," I said, offering a small smile. "Besides, I was about to sit here alone for five hours."
That finally eased some of the tension in his shoulders.
Grant reached forward, gently brushing a loose strand of hair away from my face before letting his arm settle lightly around my shoulders.
There was still hesitation in his eyes.
"I'll be fine," I repeated.
This time I leaned up on my toes and pressed a quick kiss against his mouth.
Grant bent just enough to meet me halfway.
"Call me if anything happens," he said quietly. "The office isn't far."
"We'll be fine."
He kissed me once more—first my lips, then briefly along my neck before returning to my mouth again—like he was still reluctant to leave.
Then he stepped outside.
The door shut behind him.
The house went quiet for exactly two seconds.
Then the bathroom door opened.
Footsteps approached the kitchen.
Isabel rounded the corner drying her hands on a paper towel, her eyes immediately darting toward the front door.
"Is he finally gone?" She turned back in the direction of the kitchen.
I nodded following after her.
Her entire face lit up.
She leaned across the counter, elbows planted like she'd been waiting her entire life for this moment.
"So."
Her head tilted slightly.
"You and my brother?"
She grabbed the mug Grant had left on the counter earlier and poured the coffee into two cups before sliding one across the island toward me.
"Here."
The mug was still warm when I wrapped my hands around it.
For a moment neither of us spoke.
Isabel took a sip of her coffee and studied me over the rim of the cup with open curiosity. Not judgmental—just very interested.
Her gaze dropped briefly to the oversized sweatpants and the ridiculously long shirt hanging nearly to my knees.
Then it lifted back to my face.
A slow smile started forming again.
"So," she said, leaning one hip against the counter. "How long has this been going on?"
Heat crept up the back of my neck immediately.
"We're not—"
I stopped halfway through the sentence, unsure how to even finish it.
Isabel tilted her head, clearly amused by my struggle.
"Not what?" she asked.
I looked down into my coffee for a second before answering.
"We're just... spending time together."
"Ah."
She nodded slowly like she was filing that away somewhere. "Spending time together."
Her expression softened a little then, the teasing easing just slightly.
She walked around the island then, opening the refrigerator like she was completely at home.
"You hungry?" she asked over her shoulder. "I'm starving. I can make us something."
I hesitated for half a second before answering.
"...A little."
My stomach betrayed me immediately with a quiet growl.
Isabel laughed.
"Perfect."
She started pulling random ingredients out of the fridge, lining them across the counter with the confidence of someone who clearly enjoyed cooking.