Chapter 38

It was late when we finally made adequate progress on the buffet of food Shelly made for us. It was even later when the conversation fizzled. It was extremely late when she decided to bust out the old photo albums of Grant.

But it was all worth it.

Yawning in the near-midnight light from the upstairs window in Grant’s home, we say goodnight to his mom and make our way downstairs.

It’s funny—I usually book my first dates at the fanciest restaurant in town, but I’ve never had a date go that well. Or had food that delicious.

“I really like your mom,” I say as we walk down the steps to his place.

“She really likes you,” he says, looking at me with such love that my heart pangs with feeling.

I let my fingers run over the surface of a family portrait that hangs on the wall of his living room. It’s one of those tacky family portraits where everyone is wearing vaguely matching outfits and no one’s smile looks natural. Which is to say, the best kind of family picture.

“Your mom really misses your dad.” It’s not a question, just an observation that weighs heavy on my heart after watching Shelly’s face talk about memories associated with different pictures in the photo albums.

“She really does.”

“She misses taking care of someone.”

Grant doesn’t answer. He just sighs.

Taking his hands in mine, I rise onto my toes to kiss him. Those beautiful, brown eyes sparkle back at me.

“You did a really nice thing when you moved back in with her.” He flushes, so I squeeze his hands. I hate that there’s so much shame for such a good deed. “Truly.”

Grant shrugs. “She needs someone around. At least for right now.”

And, of course, that someone is Grant. It’s always Grant.

He was a superhero long before he bought that silly cape.

Grant slips his hands out of my own, places them on my hips, and then slides them down to grab my ass with both hands. His chocolate eyes glint with intention.

“And I need you.”

Well, no argument there. Sex has been delayed long enough. I’ve been denied having him inside of me a ridiculous number of times.

The thought of him finally inside me makes my stomach lurch with anticipation.

No, not with anticipation…

“You’re fucking kidding me,” I swear. Anticipation has nothing to do with what I’m feeling. It’s the whooshing feeling of the reset. I guess it got closer to midnight than I realized. “This isn’t over,” I warn Grant.

A shuddering heartbeat later, I’m back in my office.