32. Valuable Ammunition #2
Marie’s mouth does this slow, venomous stretch. “Of course.” She shifts her gaze from Grant to me. “Well. I know now.”
Grant stays silent. My cheeks burn. I’m vibrating with adrenaline and shame, the words I blurted out replaying in my head like a TikTok sound I can’t mute.
Why did I have to tell her about the student thing?
Why did I have to go for the jugular? I was trying to defend him, and now I’ve probably just made it worse.
Marie straightens as if someone just wound her tighter. “I’ll be in touch.” She eyes me one last time for good measure, then she’s out the door before I can say anything.
Everything freezes.
Sera is still playing her xylophone, sweet and oblivious.
Grant just stands there, hair dripping down his back, desperate to make it look like he’s not trying to control his breathing.
I’m the only one who’s visibly falling apart, so I do what I always do when I’m about to cry in public—I try to leave.
I brush past him, muttering something about needing to get dressed, but he catches my wrist so fast it nearly yanks my shoulder out of its socket. Big hand, warm, locked around my pulse point. “No, angel, wait.”
His voice is low and rough, but not angry, even though he should be because I’m an idiot. There’s something else there, something I can’t name, and it slices clean through the panic.
I try to pull free, because I’m still humiliated. “It’s fine—I’ll go. I shouldn’t have gotten between you, I just—I was trying to help, Grant. I wasn’t trying to make it worse.”
He hauls me in, zero fucks about Sera watching, and pins my hand to his chest. His heart is jackhammering under my palm. I can’t look at his face. I’m so sure I’ve fucked it up that if I see disappointment in his eyes, I’ll burst into flames.
“You’re not making it worse,” he whispers. “You’re the only thing that makes any of this better.”
My breath stutters.
He shakes my wrist gently. “Hey. Look at me.”
I lift my gaze slowly. Two big, fat tears roll down my cheeks, dripping off my chin.
“I told you we’re not doing the third-act breakup thing,” he whispers, thumb sweeping over my cheek, smearing the tears aside. “Remember?”
“I remember,” I echo softly, throat feeling like it’s full of cotton. “You know, I read those books, too.” I glance at the living room shelf, stuffed full of Maya Mercy paperbacks, just like the one in his bedroom. “No third-act breakup doesn’t mean you’re safe.”
His nose brushes mine. “Yeah, but if it’s a romance, it has to have a happy ending.”
I snort a watery laugh. “This is a romance?”
“Isn’t it?”
Grant glances at Sera, engrossed in an old magazine she’s found under the coffee table.
“It is.” He steals a kiss. “You have a hell of a way with people, angel.”
I wiggle my brows. “I’m very diplomatic. You should see me at the DMV.”
He shakes his head, hair already starting to curl where it’s drying at his temples. “I meant what I said. No third-act breakup. I’m not losing you over this. Not over anything. Definitely not over her.”
My heart does a full backflip. It’s so gross how much I love him already. It’s been scant months, but I guess Taylor Swift was right—when you know you know, and when you don’t, you don’t.
I want to say something, but the words all jam up in my throat, like rush hour at an emotional toll booth. He’s watching me, and I’m tempted to start babbling about Taylor Swift and the inevitability of happy endings, but then Grant’s jaw works, and the air between us goes all sharp and electric.
“Angel, about the… us part.” His arm snakes around my waist. “Can I run something by you?”
I nod too quickly, brain gone full jitterbug. “Anything. You know that.”
He blows out a long breath. “I want to write the letter. Disclose all of it. To Ellie, to Marie, to Talan. Everything by the book, so nobody can use it against us later. I know it’s overdue. I just…” He swallows. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay with it first.”
My chest goes tight and fizzy, and for a split second, I forget how to use my face. Then warmth floods in, so big it actually aches. “Yeah?”
He nods, steady. “Yeah. I want to make it official.”
My heart does a high-key somersault, then lands in a cartoonish splat at the bottom of my ribs. “Are you sure?”
He huffs a laugh, then tugs me closer by the wrist. “I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life, Neve.” There’s this naked, burning sincerity in his eyes that nearly knocks me flat.
God, I really might cry again, except this time for a good reason.
“Yeah,” I whisper. “Yeah, baby. I want that, too. I want everyone to know I’m yours.”
Grant thumbs a stray tear from my cheek. “I’ll write the letter today.”
There’s a weird, honeyed hum in my chest. I feel like I might float off the ground.
He glances at Sera, then leans in, pitching his voice so low only I can hear it. “Do you want me to tell her? That you’re not just my friend. I mean, we could… I could explain it. If you want.”
My pulse does something gymnastic and embarrassing. I want to say yes. But Sera deserves better than being dropped into this with zero warning or planning. Besides, we both know Marie is lurking somewhere, waiting to detonate.
I pull in a breath. “Let’s… wait,” I say, and my voice doesn’t shake, which is a small miracle. “Just until everything’s safe, you know? When Talan has the letter, when the review is done. Then it’s official. We can tell her together.”