Chapter Thirty-Two Mercy
Chapter Thirty-Two
Mercy
It didn’t happen until late in the summer. July thirtieth, to be exact.
Long enough that I’d stopped thinking about it. Stopped wondering if it ever would.
We were happy. Complete.
With neither of us needing to teach during June or July, we spent the long Michigan-summer days together.
We visited Traverse City for a weekend, then on a whim decided to drive into the Upper Peninsula for another week.
We spent a couple days in Marquette during the Blueberry Festival and visited the clear, fluorescent teal waters of Kitch-iti-kipi.
Kayaked Pictured Rocks and spent lazy mornings in bed, working on crossword puzzles until one of us got distracted by a flash of skin or decided that an argument over a word was best decided with a kiss that always led to more.
We came home and helped Bernice organize her garage, and I only had to scold her once for grabbing Grant’s ass. We babysat Katya’s daughter when her day care worker got sick, and the sight of Grant holding a baby was more than my poor ovaries could handle.
After Katya picked up little Daisy, I dragged my husband into our bedroom and fucked him stupid.
We argued about silly things, and I genuinely hated when he drove because I never saw that needle go over the speed limit once. Not one single time.
He only tried to make the bed with me in it once. A solidly placed kick only a couple inches clear of his groin, and Grant decided it was best he just wait until I woke.
We planned a visit to London for the first week of August, before I’d need to start prepping my classroom.
The day before we left, I finished setting aside the shoes I was going to pack and told Grant I was going to take a nap.
“Shall I join you?” he asked from the kitchen.
“If you join me, I won’t get any sleep.”
“Spoilsport.”
I was still smiling when I pulled a blanket over my lap and curled up in the chair in my office.
I was staring at the leaves and flowers on the ceiling, thinking about my roses in the backyard and whether I’d trust Bernice to water them while we were gone.
The Mona Lisa was my favorite, a pale-pink bloom with a sweet, peachy scent.
I’d be devastated to lose them from lack of care.
It was amazing how something with such humble, rather ugly beginnings could bloom into something so beautiful. I was glad I hadn’t given up on them.
I fell asleep to that thought.
Two hours later, I woke to Grant sliding his hands over my arms to wake me.
“It’s dinnertime, love.”
I hummed, burrowing deeper into the pillow underneath my head. “Still tired.”
“You won’t sleep tonight.”
“Yes, I will.”
“Aren’t you hungry?”
“No.” My stomach growled. The sound of his laugh made me smile. “Maybe a little.”
“What sounds good?”
I was still so groggy it was hard to think clearly. I took a few deep breaths and finally pried my eyes open. “Remember those enchiladas you made once? With the pepper jack cheese? Those sound delicious.”
It wasn’t until Grant’s sharp intake of breath that I even realized what I’d said. “Mercy?”
I sat up. “Oh my God.”
His eyes frantically searched mine, even as they welled with tears. “Do you . . . do you remember?”
My mind raced, tripping over itself as I tried to filter through the staggering, overwhelming number of memories that were just there.
“Oh my God,” I sobbed, pressing my hands to my face. I flung the blanket off and climbed into his lap, wrapping my arms around his neck. “We went to the Michigan game and I made you paint your face and I used the wrong thing and it didn’t come off for days. You were so mad at me.”
Grant pressed his forehead into the crook of my neck, crying openly.
I thought of all the things he’d tried to tell me at the hospital, the ones that were too much for me then. That had sent me spiraling with hardly any information given.
“We made cookies at Christmas, and we burned them because we were too busy arguing about the ornaments.” Tears streamed down my cheeks, and I grabbed his cheeks with both hands so I could see his face.
His handsome, tearstained face. “And I didn’t break three!
I broke two—you grabbed my ass when I wasn’t expecting it, so the third is really your fault. ”
He laughed through his tears, cupping his hands around the back of my neck and pulling me in for a damp, soggy, utterly perfect kiss. My heart expanded on a painful beat, but the good kind of pain. The kind that comes from growth. From change. From perspective.
I didn’t suddenly love him more because I remembered.
Our life wasn’t magically better.
But as we sat there and dried each other’s tears and talked until our throats were dry and our stomachs empty to the point of pain, I felt complete. We ordered pizza and talked some more.
Grant got my laptop, and we started looking at pictures and videos. I curled up between his legs, his chest bracing my back as he let me scroll through at my own pace.
It was the same way he’d done everything, I realized now. At my own pace. Never rushing. Never pushing harder than I could handle.
He loved me so well.
He was careful with his emotions, showing them only where he felt safe. And Grant felt safest with me. The times he did push, the times he did seem to rush, were fleeting moments of that love spilling out because it was so big, so overwhelming, that it was a mighty feat to keep it contained.
In hindsight, I couldn’t help but wonder whether it had been the same with me, even when I didn’t know what I was remembering.
The times I pushed. The times I rushed. The times I seemed determined to upset the proverbial apple cart, it was emotion spilling out that I could hardly understand, let alone name it for what it was.
Now I could, of course. Now it was painfully clear. I set the computer down and turned in Grant’s lap, my mouth finding his as his arms wound tight around me. He kissed me with such familiarity. Kissed me exactly the way I wanted. Exactly the way I needed.
I tore my mouth away from his. “Holy shit, your sister caught us having sex in the library. And on the pool table. How am I supposed to face her tomorrow?”
He smiled, a dimple appearing in his cheek. “Don’t forget the gardens.”
I set my forehead on his and whimpered. Not the kind of whimpering I wanted to do when in my husband’s lap either. “The bench. I straddled you on the bench.” I gave him a miserable look. “It skinned my knees.”
“I remember. You made me carry you as if your legs were chopped off at the knee.”
I rolled my eyes. “Hardly. You offered because if someone saw me limping, they’d ask too many questions.”
“We’ll be more careful,” he promised.
“We’ll keep it confined to the bedroom, buddy.”
“Oh, I find that unacceptable. You’re just as much of an exhibitionist as I am, my dear, and you can no longer say you don’t know what I’m talking about, because you love how close we came to getting caught.
” He dipped his head and kissed along my collarbone.
I angled my neck, sighing as he gently sucked the skin under my jaw. “Every single time, you loved it.”
“Bedroom, or you’re not getting any.”
“Of course,” he purred. “You sound very serious.”
His hands worked up the back of my shirt, and I arched into his touch. “I . . . I am.”
Instead of arguing—I was on very shaky moral ground and we both knew it—Grant kissed me, tilting his head as his tongue brushed lazily over mine.
The kiss ended, and I let my forehead rest against his. “I am sort of serious. I want this trip to be different.” I met his eyes. “With your family.”
Grant gripped the back of my neck, his fingers digging in to the tense muscles he found there. “In what way?”
“The last time we went, it wasn’t real yet. For us,” I clarified. “We were sleeping together, but we weren’t this.”
The movements of Grant’s hands gentled. Soothing now, instead of trying to incite. “No, we weren’t.”
“I viewed them as your family.” I shrugged. “This last visit, too, they were . . . separate.”
“But now?”
“Now it’s different,” I whispered, eyes darting up to his. Even with the memories, this didn’t feel any less vulnerable. “Now they’re my family too.”
He dragged his knuckles over the line of my jaw. “And they love you.”
“I want to know them better. See them more.”
“We can do that.” He smiled gently. “That would make them happy.”
“And you?”
“And me.” Grant kissed me. “I love my family. I just wanted a chance to create my own, without anyone else’s rules and expectations.”
“That’s why I want this visit to be different. Your dad can’t hide in meetings. I won’t tolerate it this time. He has to come and sit and talk. Play cards. Walk in the gardens.”
“He doesn’t often stop to do those things,” he warned.
“Oh, he will for this trip.”
Grant raised a brow, clearly amused by my fierce tone.
“You don’t think I can do it?” I asked.
“Oh, on the contrary. I’m thrilled at the prospect of having a front-row seat.” He lowered his voice. “I’d put my money on you every single time, love.”
The praise went straight to my head. “I want to know him better. Someday he’ll be the only grandfather our kids have, and so help me, our children will not—”
Grant stole my mouth with a fierce kiss, groaning as he tightened his grip with an arm banded around my lower back. My head was fuzzy when he pulled away. “Wha-what was that for?”
His eyes were a bright silver when his gaze locked onto mine. “You cannot talk about carrying my children without turning me into an absolute brute. I’d think that memory should be rather clear now too.”
“Oh yes. I suppose I do recall a slight breeding kink.” I fiddled with the top button of his shirt, heart thundering at the way he was looking at me. I lifted my eyes to his. “And I fully intend to ask for a refresher.”
“As always, your wish is my command.”
I ducked my head, cheeks warm and smile wide. “But . . .”
“But what?”
“There’s something else I’d like to do while we’re there.” I licked my lips. “Just one thing.”
His expression was almost unbearably fond. “Anything.”
“Will you marry me again?”
Grant’s eyes widened, his mouth falling open. “What?”
“I don’t regret our courthouse wedding, but .
. . it might be nice to do it again. In front of our family.
” I cupped the side of his face, my thumb dragging gently over the warm skin of his cheek.
“Say our vows and mean every fucking word.” I brought him closer and spoke against his lips.
“For richer or poorer. In sickness and health. All of it. Until my last breath.”
Grant kept his gaze on mine as he kissed me lightly enough to tease. “Longer than that, darling. I’ve already told you.”
I smiled. “In every universe.”
“In every lifetime.”