Chapter 37

When my grandma died, I had just got hired on at Felton amp; Nichols. I was young and eager to prove myself. While she was dying in the hospital, I took off just one afternoon to visit her in the hospital. One. True, I visited her after work, although I did stay later at the office than I should have. It wasn’t enough, though.

My parents called me at work to tell me she had passed. I sat at my desk—a hollow shell in a hollow office. The sounds of everyday business seemed impossibly far away. Like they were happening in another office. To another person.

Because surely I couldn’t be the type of person who didn’t even bother asking for a day off while her grandmother died.

But then Dominic walked by, rapped his knuckles on my desk and told me what a good job I did on his paperwork. And I thought I made the right choice.

Somewhere along the way, I got lost.

In the spirit of complete honesty, I know that I’m to blame for my lack of success with dating. It isn’t that I have such a terrible personality—or, at least, not totally that—it’s that I always had half a foot out the door. True, I requested my first dates bring a copy of their family tree back to a minimum of four generations (who wants to waste time on a secret distant cousin?), but it was the fact that I accepted work calls and showed up half an hour late because Dominic needed just one more thing from me that sealed the deal.

It’s like Dr. Debbie says in her preface: “Ultimately, relationships are transactional. You get out what you put in. If you put in time, honesty, and love, more often than not, you’ll get that back. If you put nothing in, don’t expect anything in return.”

Well, it’s time for me to start putting something in.

Starting with sitting down to dinner with Grant’s mom after she heard me proclaim my orgasm louder than a newsie announcing the daily headline.

Oh, well. There’s always tomorrow/today to make a different first impression.

“You really don’t have to do this,” Grant mutters now that we’ve finished washing up and are heading upstairs.

“Technically, I’ve already had a meal with your mom.” I pause mid-step up the stairs. “Or maybe, technically, I haven’t. Either way, it’s no big deal.”

“Definitely not a big deal,” Grant continues to mumble to himself.

And that’s enough of that.

“Okay, Mumbles. Spit it out.”

I stop abruptly and Grant nearly falls over in his attempt to avoid contact with me. I don’t care. I know that Dr. Debbie says that these sorts of conversations should be had in a comfortable, relaxed, judgement-free environment, but apparently it’s happening now—in a dark stairwell while his mother waits for us for dinner.

“Spit what out?”

“Do you have any idea what I charge by the hour for people to talk to me? It’s a lot. So, I make sure to make the most of their time. We’re going to cut through all the muttering and asides and you’re going to tell me what’s going on.” Grant stares at me. “Now.”

Grant runs his hand through his hair. “It’s just… you deserve better.”

I narrow my eyes. “Define better.”

“Don’t make me say it.”

“Define better.”

Grant sighs. “You deserve a guy like you—someone smart and professional. Someone who lives in a fancy penthouse, not in his mother’s basement. Someone cool, who attends yacht parties or whatever, not role-playing with his friends.” His next words come out like an axe ripped from a stump. “And you definitely don’t deserve a janitor.”

Since I’m a stair up from him, I can go up on my tiptoes to kiss him softly before I tear into him.

“That,” I say, pulling away from my gentle kiss, “is some of the worst logic I’ve ever heard.”

“I just mean—”

I hold up a finger to his lips. “No, sorry. You lose talking privileges when you utter complete nonsense.” I smile at him to show I’m being light. Then, I keep going because I’m also serious. “First of all, there is nothing wrong with being a janitor. It’s a great job that adds value to the world, unlike so many of the sleazier lawyers I go up against. Next, I’ll have you know that I once dated someone like me. Almost exactly like me. He was a lawyer—driven, smart, handsome. He had his own apartment and was on track to be partner by his late thirties. And do you know what happened between us?”

Grant shakes his head, taking his no talking privileges to heart.

“Nothing. In fact, I think we’re still dating.”

I don’t continue right away. No, I look at the way Grant looks like his head might explode if he doesn’t track this man down and kill him immediately. It really shouldn’t be sexy.

But it is.

“What I mean, is literally nothing. I got busy with work. He got busy with work and neither of us made time to see each other. We didn’t even make time to break up. So, no, I don’t need someone like me. I’m terrible in a relationship. I need someone like you.

“I need someone who will wake up early to see me off to work if that’s all the time we get to spend together. I need someone who will pester me to have lunch with them. I need someone who will hit me over the head with the fact that they love me because they don’t see emotions as a weakness.

“I need someone like you not just for the sake of our relationship, but also for the sake of me. I need someone to show me why spending time with friends is so important. I need someone who lives for being there for his family. I need someone to remind me there’s more to life than work.

“But beyond that, I need someone who loves me. And there’s no one that can love all my messed-up parts, except you. So, don’t tell me what I deserve. I’m awesome and I deserve the fucking best. I deserve you.”

Despite the fact that I absolutely slay closing arguments, I’m nervous. Usually when I argue, it has nothing to do with me. This, though, was my heart on a platter.

Grant doesn’t answer.

His hands flutter to the sides of my face and he cradles my trembling lips like I’m made of porcelain. He opens his mouth and then closes it again.

“Can I speak now?” he asks in barely a whisper.

Before I can answer, there’s a light knock a few feet up at the door at the top of the stairs that connects to the main part of the house.

“Can I open the door?” Grant’s mom asks.

Grant looks to me. I nod.

“Yes, Mom.”

The adjoining door creaks open. At the top of the stairs with the light of the kitchen behind her, stands Shelly. Tears stream down her face and she smiles weakly.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t help but overhear…” she starts.

“Because you were eavesdropping?” Grant finishes.

She nods and then holds her arms wide open, palms facing us.

Is she afraid of falling?

“You don’t have to hug her if you don’t want,” Grant whispers behind me.

Except, now that I understand the gesture, I do want to. With Grant behind me, I walk to the top of the steps and let his mother wrap me in a hug that lets me know exactly where Grant got his super strength from.

“You two absolutely deserve each other,” she whispers into my ear as she plants a sloppy kiss on my cheek. “He sees the best in everyone, except himself. I’m glad you spelled it out for him.”

For once, I have nothing to say. I just hug her back and marvel that once again Shelly has met and liked me for the first time. What is it about this family that can see the good in me?

Or maybe, what was with the people I was spending my time with before that they could only see the bad?

“I hope you’re hungry,” Grant’s mom says as we pull away. “I didn’t know what you’d like so I made a bit of everything.”

From my vantage point, I can see the kitchen table nearly sagging under the weight of the food she’s made. The meal she’s prepared makes the breakfast from the other day look like a light snack.

“Fuck,” Grant mutters when his mom leaves to grab some plates.

“What?”

“Looks like we’re going to be up here a while.”

With balls bluer than the ocean on a clear, summer’s day, Grant makes his way up the stairs to join his mom instead of taking me to fuck into tomorrow. I smile after him.

Thatis exactly the sort of man I deserve.