Chapter 24
TWENTY-FOUR
Riley
Grant stood with his back to the workbench, a piece of sandpaper still in his hand, his shoulders rigid. The barn light cast harsh shadows across his face, making him look older, harder, nothing like the man who'd kissed her goodbye this morning.
Riley couldn't find her voice.
"Hi," she finally managed.
Grant didn't move. Didn't speak. Just stared at her with an expression she couldn't read—something between hurt and anger and exhaustion.
"Can we talk?" Riley took a step closer, then stopped when Grant's jaw tightened. "Please?"
"What's there to talk about?" His voice was flat. Cold in a way she'd never heard from him before.
"Grant, I'm so sorry. I tried—"
"You tried." He set down the sandpaper with careful precision. "Right. You tried."
"I did. I swear, I tried everything to get away. My boss kept—"
"Your boss." Grant shook his head. "Of course. Your boss needed you. Work needed you."
Riley flinched. "It's not an excuse. It's what happened. She kept piling things on and I kept thinking I could finish and still make it back, but—"
"But you couldn't." Grant's voice was flat. "This is why you got the naughty list title in the first place, Riley. You have a history of missing things. Important things. Things you promise you'll be there for."
Riley's breath caught. "That's not fair."
"Isn't it?" Grant's eyes were hard. "How many times in high school did you bail on plans because something more important came up? How many times did you choose the thing that looked better on a college application over actually showing up for your friends? For me?"
"We were kids—"
"And everyone still remembers. Hannah remembers. Mark and Ryan remember. Hell, even people who barely knew you back then remember that Riley Monroe was always too busy for Pine Valley." His jaw tightened. "I just forgot for a minute. Got caught up in pretending this was real when I knew better."
"It is real—"
"It's not. It was fake, remember? The whole thing. We agreed to fake date for the reunion so people would leave you alone."
Riley's hands shook. "Grant, please. If you'd just let me explain—"
"Explain what? That your job is more important than keeping your word?
I already know that, Riley. I've always known that.
I just forgot for a minute." He ran a hand through his hair, and Riley saw how tired he looked.
How hurt. "I should have known better. But honestly, Riley, you don't owe me an explanation. This was all fake anyway."
Riley couldn't breathe. "What?"
"The whole thing. Us. It was fake, remember? A favor for the reunion. That's all this was." Grant's voice went quieter, which was somehow worse than the anger. "I shouldn't be surprised you didn't make it. I shouldn't be mad. It was just embarrassing, that's all."
"Embarrassing." Riley's voice cracked on the word.
"Yeah. Everyone asking where you were. Having to make excuses. Hannah's kids asking for you." Grant looked away. "Sitting there with an empty seat beside me while everyone felt sorry for me. That part sucked. But I'll get over it."
"Grant, please—" Riley took another step forward. "It wasn't fake. Not for me. I need you to know—"
"Riley, don't." Grant held up a hand. "Just don't, okay? Don't make this harder than it needs to be."
"But I need to tell you something. About my job. About what I did—"
"I don't want to hear about your job." Grant's voice went sharp again. "I really, really don't want to hear about how demanding it is or how much your boss expects or any of the reasons why you can't keep your promises. I've heard it all before."
"That's not what I was going to say. If you'd just listen—"
"I don't want to listen!" Grant's voice cracked. "I don't want to hear about your job or your boss or your life in the city. I don't want excuses or explanations or promises that you'll try harder next time. Because I can't do this fake dating thing anymore."
"What?" Riley's voice was barely a whisper.
"This. Us. The whole pretend relationship." Grant's hands were shaking. "It's gotten too real, Riley. And having to sit there last night making excuses for you with a smile on my face? Pretending like everything was fine when you weren't there? That's not okay. I'm not doing that."
"Grant, it wasn't—it's not fake. Not for me—"
"It was supposed to be fake. That was the deal. A favor so people would stop bugging you at the reunion." His voice went quiet. "But I let it get carried away. I let myself forget that this was all pretend. That's on me."
"It's not pretend—"
"Then what is it?" Grant turned to face her fully. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like the same thing that's always happened with us. I care more than you do. I wait around hoping you'll show up. And you've got more important things to do."
"That's not true." Riley's voice shook. "Grant, please. There's something I need to tell you. Something important. If you'd just—"
"It doesn't matter what you have to say." Grant turned away from her, bracing his hands on the workbench. "Nothing you say right now is going to change what happened yesterday. Nothing you say is going to make me feel less stupid for believing this was real when we both knew it wasn't."
"I did believe it. I meant it when I said it—"
"I'm sure you did." Grant's shoulders were rigid. "And I'm sure tomorrow something else will come up and you'll mean that too. And the day after that, and the day after that. It's who you are, Riley. It's what you do. You mean well and then life gets in the way and the rest of us are left waiting."
Riley couldn't breathe. Couldn't think past the pain radiating through her chest. "That's not who I want to be."
"Then maybe you should think about that." Grant straightened but didn't turn around. "Maybe you should figure out what you actually want instead of making promises you can't keep."
"I'm trying to tell you—"
"I don't want to hear it. Not tonight." Grant's voice was tired. Defeated in a way that was worse than the anger. "I need space, Riley. I need to not do this right now."
"How much space? How long?"
"I don't know." Grant finally turned to look at her, and the exhaustion in his eyes made Riley want to cry.
"I just know I can't have this conversation tonight.
I can't listen to you explain why yesterday happened and try to figure out if I believe you'll be different next time. I don't have it in me."
"Grant, please—"
"Please just go." His voice was quiet. Broken. "Please."
Riley stood frozen, her heart hammering, tears burning behind her eyes. She wanted to scream at him. Wanted to grab him and force him to listen. Wanted to tell him she'd quit, that she'd chosen him, that she was staying.
But his face was closed off, his body turned away from her, and Riley knew—knew—that nothing she said right now would get through.
"Okay," she whispered.
Grant didn't respond.
Riley turned and walked out of the barn on shaking legs. The cold air hit her like a slap, but she barely felt it. She made it to her car before the tears started.
Riley drove back through town with tears streaming down her face, barely seeing the road. She'd come here to fix things. To tell him she'd quit her job. To show him she was choosing him, choosing this, choosing them.
But he wouldn't let her speak. Wouldn't let her explain. Had thrown their whole relationship back in her face like it meant nothing.
Fake. It was supposed to be fake.
When she pulled into her parents' driveway, the lights were still on. Riley sat in the car for a long moment, trying to pull herself together. Trying to breathe past the ache in her chest.
She couldn't.
When she walked through the door, her mom looked up from the couch where she'd been reading and immediately set down her book.
"Riley? Sweetheart, what's wrong?"
Riley's face crumpled. She stood there in the entryway crying, and Carol was there in an instant, pulling Riley into her arms, not asking questions. Just holding her.
When the worst of it had passed, Carol led Riley to the kitchen. The kettle was already on—her mom must have started it when she heard Riley come in. Carol pulled down mugs and tea bags while Riley sat at the table, trying to find words.
"It was supposed to be fake," Riley said finally.
Carol paused, tea bag in hand. "What was?"
"Grant and me. The whole dating thing." Riley wiped at her eyes.
"At the reunion, everyone kept teasing me about being so independent, about always being alone.
It was this running joke—Riley Monroe, too busy for a relationship.
Too focused on her career to settle down.
" Her voice shook. "And Grant heard them giving me a hard time, and he offered to pretend.
Just for the reunion. Just so people would stop. "
Carol set down the tea bag and sat across from her, silent.
"And then it worked so well that we kept going.
Through all the holiday events. Christmas.
Everything." Riley's throat tightened. "Except somewhere along the way it stopped being fake.
At least for me. I fell for him all over again.
Like I was sixteen and stupid and completely in love with Grant Lawson. "
"Oh, sweetheart."
"And I think—I thought—he felt the same way.
The way he looked at me. The way he held me.
It felt real." Riley's voice broke. "But last night I broke my promise.
I missed the pageant. And tonight when I went to explain, he wouldn't listen.
He kept saying it was all fake anyway. That we both knew it wasn't real. That he just let it get carried away."
The kettle whistled. Carol got up and poured hot water over the tea bags, then pushed a steaming mug across the table to Riley.
"What did you say?" Carol asked gently.
"I couldn't say anything. He wouldn't let me finish a sentence." The tears came harder now. "He said I have a history of missing things. That everyone in town knows it. That he was stupid to forget."
"Riley—"