Chapter 11 #2
Claudette’s head snapped down to look under the table. Then slowly, so slowly, her gaze came back up to meet mine. Her eyes went impossibly wide. Then her mouth twitched—once, twice—before she lost the battle entirely.
Sandra glanced down at her own leg. Then she looked at me. Understanding dawned across her face, followed immediately by barely suppressed amusement.
I jerked my foot back like I’d been burned.
Claudette made a small sound—half snort, half giggle—that she tried desperately to muffle behind her napkin. I shot her a look that I hoped conveyed my mortification.
Sandra took a very deliberate sip of her water, her own mouth twitching as she fought her smile.
Grandfather looked between the three of us, clearly sensing something had happened but unable to figure out what. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” I said far too quickly.
“Nothing at all,” Sandra agreed, her voice remarkably steady despite the laughter in her eyes.
Claudette made another sound behind her napkin. It sounded suspiciously like she was choking on suppressed giggles.
“You’re all very strange,” Grandfather muttered, blissfully unaware he’d just witnessed my social death.
Crisis averted. Barely.
I kept my feet firmly planted on the floor for the rest of dinner, deliberately not looking at either Claudette or Sandra.
But I could feel Claudette shaking with silent laughter beside me.
Every time I glanced at her, she’d bite her lip harder, her eyes watering from the effort of not losing it completely.
I caught her eye across the table after Grandfather had turned his attention to his food. She was still smiling. And despite the mortification, despite accidentally playing footsie with my grandfather’s caretaker, I felt something warm settle in my chest.
She was never going to let me live this down—and I already knew I’d let her tease me forever.
The conversation was lighter now. Stories about family dinners gone wrong. Grandfather even told a story about my father as a young man, something I’d never heard before. I listened, filing it away like treasure.
An hour later, the old man pushed back from the table. Slow. Using the edge for leverage.
Sandra was there immediately, offering her arm. He took it without protest, which told me exactly how exhausted he was. He never accepted help unless he had to.
I stood to walk them out.
“She’s sharp,” Grandfather said quietly, his hand finding my shoulder with surprising strength. “Smart. Has a spine. You need that.”
“I know.”
“Good.” He squeezed once more, and there was something in his eyes. Something that looked like approval. Like pride, even. “Take care of her, Michael. You found something rare.”
“I will.”
The words settled in my chest like a vow. Like a promise I was making not just to him but to myself.
He studied my face for a long moment. Looking for something. Whatever he found seemed to satisfy him because he nodded slowly, squeezed my shoulder one more time, and headed for the elevator with Sandra supporting more of his weight than he’d admit.
They argued while they waited. Something about tomorrow’s schedule, about him refusing to rest properly.
The doors closed.
I stood there staring at the empty space, thinking about the effort it took him to come here. The pain he’d endured on that flight. The exhaustion I’d seen in every line of his face.
All of it because I was family. I’d thought he didn’t know how to care, but apparently he did, in his own way. And for the first time in maybe ever, I felt seen by him. Acknowledged.
I went back inside and found Claudette on the couch looking tired but happy.
“Your grandfather’s something else,” she murmured.
I sat beside her, pulling her close. She curled into me immediately, head finding that spot on my shoulder like it belonged there.
“This is nice,” she said softly. “Your family.”
My family. Small. Complicated. But mine.
Claudette shifted against me, getting comfortable. The scent of her shampoo filled my senses—something floral and clean. I buried my face in her hair, breathed her in. Felt the warmth of her body pressed against mine, alive and real and here.
My hand found her waist, thumb brushing against the strip of skin where her shirt had ridden up slightly. She made a small sound at the contact.
“So,” she said, voice trembling with suppressed laughter. “You played footsie with Sandra.”
I groaned. “We’re not talking about that.”
“You were so confident about it too.” She tilted her head back to look at me, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Just reached right out with your foot, so sure of yourself—”
I kissed her—hard and sudden—mostly to shut her up, partly because she was laughing and it was undoing me. To my restraint.
She made a surprised sound against my mouth but recovered quickly, kissing me back with enthusiasm. When we broke apart, she was breathless, lips slightly swollen.
“That’s cheating,” she breathed, but her voice was softer now. Huskier.
“Is it working?”
“Maybe.” She reached up and touched my face, her palm warm against my jaw. Her thumb traced my bottom lip. “But I’m still going to tease you about it later.”
I pulled her closer, my hand sliding up her back. I could feel her heartbeat quickening, matching the rhythm of my own.
I kissed her again. Slower this time. Taking my time with it. Trying to pour everything I couldn’t say into the press of my mouth against hers. My hand tangled in her hair, tilting her head back to deepen the kiss.
“Michael,” she breathed, and the way she said my name—breathless and wanting—made something primal wake up in my chest.
I pulled back just enough to look at her. Her eyes were dark, pupils blown wide. Her cheeks were flushed. Her lips were parted, swollen from my kisses.
Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.
Before she could react, I scooped her into my arms—one arm under her knees, the other around her back—lifting her clean off the couch.
She let out a surprised squeak, hands immediately flying to wrap around my neck. “Michael! What are you—”
“Bedroom,” I said simply, already moving.
“But Failure—” She glanced back at the ridiculous purple elephant still sitting on the couch.
“He’s staying.”
“But he’s family—”
“So am I. And right now, I’m prioritizing myself.” I looked down at her, saw the laughter and want warring in her eyes. “Any objections?”
She bit her lip—and that alone made me walk faster. “No objections.”