Chapter 15

chapter fifteen

Addie

I wonder if tonight is actually a date.

There's no official guidebook on how to fake marry someone, so it's unclear how all of this should go, but I can't stop myself from wondering if Grant considers this a date.

Or is this simply just… practice?

Peering into the mirror in his bathroom, I scan my reflection, sighing as I run my hands down the front of the beige dress I'm wearing, wondering if this is what I should wear if it is considered a date.

Or… even if it's not.

It's times like this that I wish I had girlfriends. Someone my own age to talk to about clothes and my lack of knowledge about makeup and boys. But I've just never been great at making friends. I've always been painfully shy, much better at blending into the background. It's why I've mostly stuck to my art, working at the bakery, and Auggie. Most of the time, I'm content with that, but sometimes, I wish that I had someone to confide in.

Instead, I've got Auggie, who's currently staring at me with his judgy eyes and making me second-guess my outfit choice for tonight.

But before I can change for the third time, there's a light rap at the bedroom door, and then Grant's voice drifts through. "Almost ready?"

"Um, yes. Give me just one more second!" My stomach twists in a flurry of nerves as I blow out a shaky exhale and take one final look in the mirror.

This dress is fine for whatever tonight ends up being. It's basic but still flatters the small amount of curves that I have. And the dainty strawberry earrings I grabbed at the last minute are the perfect accessory for the soft waves I did my hair in.

It's fine.

At least that's what I keep telling myself as I grab a thin pink cardigan off the bed, then give Auggie a quick head scratch before walking over to the bedroom door and opening it.

Grant's standing in the doorway, leaning against the wooden frame on one veiny, muscled forearm.

His lips slightly part, and his eyes trail down my body in a slow, unhurried perusal. I can nearly feel his gaze as it travels over me, a shiver racing down my spine in response and sending my already frayed nerves into overdrive.

"Is this okay? I can go cha?—"

"No. No," he stops me, his blue eyes finally lifting to mine. "You look stunning , Addie."

Heat flushes my cheeks at the compliment. His gaze feels more intense than ever, or maybe I just haven't noticed how much until now.

"Thank you," I murmur shyly.

Tonight, he's wearing a simple black cotton T-shirt with a faded pair of blue jeans and a well-worn pair of Converse. He's styled his hair and shaved, which somehow makes his sculpted jawline appear even more prominent.

I never knew that was a feature that I would be so… attracted to until Grant. Not that I've had a lot of experiences to go on.

He's standing so close, only a few inches away, that I can smell the clean scent of his bodywash, and I want to inhale, breathing the cedarwood scent in.

Jeez, Addie, no. No.

That sounds creepy even in your head. Imagine if he knew you wanted to smell him.

My nerves are clearly clouding my thoughts and making me think like a lunatic.

After saying a quick goodbye to Auggie, we walk out of the apartment, and I feel Grant's palm brushing along the small of my back as he guides me toward the truck.

It's the most innocent of touches, but it sets my skin on fire.

When I reach for the door handle, he stops me by placing his hand over mine and shaking his head. "Let me."

He pulls on the handle, opening the door with a smile.

I'm confused for most of the drive and when we pull into the parking lot of the school's baseball stadium my brows furrow together.

I glance over at him with wide eyes as he parks in the front row but he just chuckles, reaching over and gently smoothing the furrow between my brows with the pad of his thumb.

"Don't worry, ArtGirl. We're not here to play. I know how anti-sports you are." His tone is light as he teases me with a playful grin that makes him that much more handsome.

My heart races inside my chest at his touch, something that seems to always happen.

"I wasn't… worried."

His smirk is the only response I get to my denial.

We get out of the truck, and he leads me to a side entrance that reads FACULTY ONLY across the door in big, bold letters. He pulls a small white key card from his pocket and presses it against the entrance scanner.

When it beeps, unlocking quietly, he pulls the door open and waves me inside. " Wifeys first," he says playfully.

Stepping inside, I clutch my cardigan tightly to me and wait for him to follow me into the building. I can't stop wondering why we're here, of all places, and what he has planned.

Whenever I asked him what his plans were, he insisted that it remain a surprise.

"This place is kinda creepy when it's empty," Grant mumbles quietly as we walk down the long stretch of dimly lit hallway.

I nod, scanning the frames of memorabilia along the maroon walls. "Yeah. It is really eerie."

I follow behind him to the end of the hallway, and he points to the right, where another long hallway leads. "I would give you a tour, but it's not all that exciting if you're not a fan."

"I am not anti-sports, Grant," I exclaim, even though we both know that it is… slightly true. "Even if I was , it wouldn't matter now that I'm… married to a baseball player, would it?"

His lips twitch as he nods. "Touché, ArtGirl. Touché. But, nonetheless, I'll save the tour for another time because we've got somewhere important to be."

A combination of anticipation and nerves blooms in my chest as I follow closely behind him out of the double doors at the very end of the corridor. We're back outside, but now, it's within the fenced stadium. The chill I felt while inside disappears when the muggy night air settles around us.

Obviously, I've never been inside any kind of stadium before, but it's even larger than what I expected. The tall lights above the field are off, making it hard to see as we make our way forward, but Grant knows this place like the back of his hand.

He takes us directly to a side entrance and unlatches the gate, pushing it open. I step through and realize… we're actually going onto the field.

The narrow walkway leads to the dugout, and we walk through, my eyes scanning the championship years painted along the wall above the bench to the waist-high fence that overlooks the diamond-shaped field.

"And this is where the magic happens." He grins, sweeping his hands toward the darkened field.

It seems so much larger than it does on a TV. Even in the dark.

"Wow," I breathe. "It's… big ."

Grant laughs, the sound tugging at something deep in my belly, before he nods and steps out of the dugout onto the grass. "Yeah, it can be a little overwhelming sometimes. Especially when the stands are filled with ten thousand screaming people."

"Holy moly," I mumble, dragging my gaze to the rows and rows of empty seats. I would probably have a heart attack if I had to do something, anything , in front of that many people. It's way more attention than I care to ever have.

"Yep. Talk about performing under pressure, huh?"

When I nod, he gestures for me to follow him along the grass toward the corner of the field. Only then do I halt when I see what's in front of us.

The reason he's brought us here tonight. Apparently, my surprise must be written all over my face because he chuckles deeply, stepping so closely beside me that I can feel the heat radiating off his body.

"I figured that our first date should be a combination of things we both love?" he whispers near my ear. The bare skin of my forearms erupts with goose bumps, and I wish that I could say it's from a chill in the air, but no. It's entirely Grant.

I clutch my cardigan tighter, the fabric bunching between my fingers as I attempt to pull in a shaky breath.

There's a large quilted blanket spread out in the middle of the field with dozens of battery-powered tea light candles emitting a soft, warm glow. A small lantern sits next to a picnic basket with a large bottle of pink lemonade. There are large fluffy yellow pillows along with a bag of my favorite candy.

Every detail of it is beyond sweet and carefully thought out, but it's not what has my heart thudding so hard in my chest that my head feels light and my vision swims.

It's the nearby telescope pointed toward the starry night sky that's making my throat feel tight with a hundred different emotions.

"D-date? This is a… date ?" I fumble the syllables out when I'm finally able to speak, dragging my attention away from the setup to where he's standing beside me.

The space between his brows is creased. "You're my wife, Addie. You date even once you're married. We kinda did shit ass-backwards, so yeah… I think this is our first date."

Of course, he means that's how it should be perceived by everyone around us, I know. I know.

The only way that we're going to pull off this entire arrangement is to make our connection seem realistic. That we're just two out-of-our-mind-in-love college kids who got married on a whim because they were so in love that they couldn't imagine another second not being together.

But I think to make it seem believable, it has to feel believable.

And this? Feels… like a date with a man who could easily steal my heart.

"This is amazing, Grant. All of it, truly. Thank you," I say, rolling my lip between my teeth as I peer up at him. "It's so thoughtful and so sweet… and I'm just really glad that we're doing this. Um… I mean, that we're getting to know each other better."

His lips curve into a smile. "Me too, ArtGirl. Really fucking glad." After a brief pause, he continues. "Now, since our date has officially started, let me show you the best part."

The best part isn't the telescope that I'm currently drooling to get my hands on? I can't imagine him topping that on this fake date, but he's done an incredible job of surprising me so far.

Smirking, he turns toward the blanket, and I follow behind him until we're both seated beside each other on the soft blanket he's spread out. He reaches for the picnic basket, his large hand closing around the handle, and pulls it toward him. When he opens it and begins pulling out the contents from inside, my jaw drops.

I would recognize that packaging anywhere.

"Gino's? Oh my god, Grant, it's my favorite. How did you make this happen?" I ask in complete shock.

He remembered everything from that semester we spent getting to know each other through a computer screen.

Even after I… ghosted him and left with zero explanation, he never forgot a single conversation.

A single detail mentioned in passing.

My god.

I… I can't believe he did all of this. This clearly isn't something he threw together at the last minute. He put so much thought into arranging all the little details, kept it all a surprise.

My chest throbs at how achingly sweet he is.

His grin turns cocky, and his shoulder dips nonchalantly as if him pulling this off for a date is nothing. "Called in a favor. One of the team's backers is an investor. He hooked me up."

My eyes widen further as my mouth begins to water. I can't remember the last time I had Gino's famous lasagna. It's been my favorite restaurant since I was a kid and yet another detail that Grant remembered.

It feels like he's thought of it all.

"You know, I think any future date I have may forever pale in comparison to this fake one." I giggle softly.

For a beat, I swear that I almost see disappointment flash in his eyes… as if the idea of me going on a date with anyone else irritates him. But that couldn't possibly be true, so I chalk it up to a combination of my nerves and the flicker of the candles and reach for the container.

"Have you heard from Brent?" he asks, changing the subject.

I shake my head and grab the fork he's extended toward me before pulling the top off my takeout. "He sent me a text this morning, saying that he'll be by the bakery soon, but Amos told me to ignore it and that he would handle it if he shows up. Kind of easier said than done."

Grant's eyes darken, his expression hardening as his jaw clenches. "I fucking hate that guy. I've been thinking though… since Davis asked us to go out to the Redlight earlier, if Brent really is having us followed or whatever the hell he's threatening in order to disprove things, then we're going to have to make sure we're out in public. We'll use his own threat against him." He pauses, shoveling his food into his mouth and chewing. "We can't stay holed up in the apartment or the bakery."

"I know. I just… can't even believe he's doing this, Grant. I mean, I guess I can believe it, but part of me doesn't want to believe it," I whisper between small bites.

Part of me wants to hate him for the things he's done. For lying to me and trying to force me into a marriage built on deceit with someone cold and calculating and likely abusive. For trying to take the bakery away from me when it's rightfully mine. For being so hurtful and cruel toward me for my entire life, as if I had wronged him simply by existing.

Then there's another part of me that… can't fully hate him. Because despite the mistakes that he's made and the wrong that he's done, he did take care of me when I had no one else. He put a roof over my head, clothes on my back, and gave me food to eat. He did the bare minimum, but at least he let me stay in my home. That's the part of me that feels a little indebted to him. Besides, it's not in my character to hate anyone, so it all feels like so much at once.

And maybe both things can be true, but I'm still struggling, trying to reconcile these feelings.

"We're not going to let him win, Addie. He's an asshole, and he doesn't deserve a second of the worry you're giving him. I promise you I'm going to make sure that he never hurts you again. Okay? Trust me."

Sincerity shines in his eyes, and I allow myself to feel security in what he's saying, that no matter what, we'll figure it out. Even if it's not easy.

"Okay."

Thankfully, the conversation steers away from Brent and all of the heavy stuff and back into lighter territory when Grant completely misses his mouth and drops the very last bite of his lasagna onto the blanket. It sends me into a fit of giggles, causing my stomach to begin aching from how hard I'm laughing.

I try to stop. Really, I do. "I'm-m sorry. It's not f-funny," I wheeze, very ungracefully, but the crestfallen look on his face as he dropped it was possibly the funniest and most adorable thing I've ever seen.

Grant chuckles along with me while he cleans up the mess and puts his now empty box back into the picnic basket before stretching his long denim-clad legs out on the blanket.

Unlike him, I'm much slower since I savored every single bite, and I find myself hoping that it won't be the last time we have my favorite dish together. Hoping that there's going to be another date like tonight because this might be the best meal I've ever shared with anyone.

And not only because of the food.

It's obvious that the reason Grant did all of this is not just because he's attentive and considerate but because he knew it would make me feel more at ease, less nervous. Even though we're still learning about each other, he somehow knows me in a way that no one else does.

Once I'm done and my empty container is put away, I move closer to his spot on the blanket.

"Wanna lay with me and look at the stars? They're really bright tonight without the city lights," he asks, lifting his gaze to the sky, then back to me.

"Yeah, I'd… love that."

Tugging my dress further down on my thighs, I carefully lie back on the blanket next to Grant, our shoulders nearly touching as we gaze up at the endless midnight sky littered with sparkling constellations.

Beneath the stars is my favorite place in the world to be. It's the one place I feel an overwhelming sense of… peace.

"Do you ever think about how somehow … we exist in a universe that's endless? Like there's this entire Milky Way full of planets and stars and cosmos and galaxies. It's vast beyond comprehension. And yet, somehow, we exist. We're created with hearts that beat in different rhythms and souls that are tethered to fate," I whisper quietly, turning my head to look over at Grant.

I expect him to be staring at the same stars that I was, but he's not looking at the sky at all. He's looking at me , and his dark, stormy eyes hold mine with an intensity that I can feel somewhere deep in my chest.

Seconds tick by as his eyes linger on mine, but time feels slower.

"It makes you feel kinda… small," he replies. "But still… significant. When you think about how we're floating on a rock in the middle of the galaxy, but we're all under the same sky, no matter where you are. I completely get it."

Nodding, I turn back to the sky, my eyes finding my favorite constellations by muscle memory. "When I was little, I would constantly search for the constellations at night. I'd lay on the hard concrete in the middle of the driveway and memorize their shapes after spending the day reading book after book until I could spot them without any help. I never got tired of searching for them. It was comforting that, no matter what, I knew the constellations would never disappear. That the stars would always shine. A constant that I desperately needed."

A hard knot of emotion forms at the base of my throat as I speak. This part of me, the part that's still a tangled mess, feels the thorns of vulnerability digging deep beneath my skin.

As hard as it is to be open… Grant makes me feel secure. Even if this marriage is fake and the feelings we're feigning aren't real, he still feels like a safe place to land.

Where our two hands rest closely together on the blanket, his pinky brushes gently against mine, and in another breath, he's hooking them together. The smallest touch, the barest brush of his skin, yet it feels incredibly powerful.

I'm attempting to control my breathing in order to not reveal the racing of my heart but failing miserably. I'm not sure if it's a good or bad thing that I have this response to him. It makes me feel so… out of control of my own emotions.

"I'm glad that as endless as the universe is… I exist in the same time and place that you do, Addie." When I glance over at him, his smile makes the flutters in my stomach intensify. An eruption of butterflies that make my head feel light and my limbs feel heavy.

And I don't bother hiding the smile that tilts my lips, much like his own. "Me too."

His pinky leaves mine, and his hand slides slowly, tenderly, along my palm until my fingers are intertwined tightly with his.

The gentle swipe of his thumb along my skin makes me realize for the first time… my heart's not racing because I'm nervous.

It's racing for entirely different reasons.