He’d cleared out the whole closet save for a few things. Which might have been the sweetest thing ever, but I didn’t need all of that space. I’d been able to stuff all of my clothing into a suitcase. Yeah, it was a big one, but even if I hung everything I owned, it might take up one-tenth of the closet space alone, not to mention the empty drawers.
I’d been so distracted by the closet that what should have hit me first finally registered. “This is your room, Grant.”
He turned off the lights in the closet as he stepped out. “Yeah?”
“Your bedroom.”
“Yeaaah?” he repeated, clearly not seeing this as any big thing.
“I can’t take your bedroom,” I said like it should have been obvious. Because it should have. For reasons.
Lots of reasons.
“But I’m in the pool house now. So it’s your room.”
“But you can’t stay in the pool house forever.”
Grant cocked his brow. “Have you seen the pool house? It’s hooked up. Believe me, I could spend my life a happy man in the pool house.”
“Yeah, but this is your house. Your room. I can’t take it.”
“Too late. Already done.” Grant wiped his hands together like that-was-that, but that-was-not-that.
“No, Grant.”
“How long are you planning on arguing this out with me tonight? Just so I have an idea of what kind of sleep I’m getting tonight so I can prepare myself for the amount of suffering tomorrow at practice.” He crossed his arms and waited. He knew my weak points, and he’d never had a problem extorting them.
“Fine. Then I’ll sleep in Charlie’s room or one of the million guest rooms tonight until we can continue this ‘discussion’ tomorrow and get my room changed.”
“Yeah, ‘cause waking up to your mom snuggled up beside you on your first night in a new place wouldn’t be weird. Talk about leaving some emotional scars. Deep emotional ones.” He made a clucking sound with his tongue, shaking his head.
“You are diabolical. In every way a human being can be.”
“You’ve known that for years. No need to act so surprised.” He shoved off the bedroom wall and smirked at me in passing, knowing he’d backed me into a corner. Temporarily. “Oh, just remembered.” He snapped his fingers and broke to a stop just before stepping out of the room. “The shower in the pool house is being remodeled. Would you mind if I hopped in the shower real quick before hitting the sack? Since I obviously smell so nice?”
My stomach fluttered, but I kept my expression unaffected. “Be my guest.”
“Well, technically you’re my guest, but thanks for letting me use my own shower.” He shot me a wide smile, messing with me, as he headed into the bathroom.
My eyes narrowed at him. “Dia. Bolical.”
“You like it,” he retorted with a wink.
Yeah, I did. That was the problem.
HOW HAD I gotten here?
New York City. Grant Turner’s place. His room. Hovering by the dresser, trying to distract myself from the knowledge that he was in the next room, showering.
How had I wound up here when my life had been going in a for years? For seven years, life had been moving in the opposite direction of Grant, and now, here I was, occupying the same small space as him.
The impact of everything that had happened caught up to me, hitting me square in the chest. The past week, I’d been living on autopilot, dizzy from the rush of adrenaline, but now it had all caught up to me.
Grant had taken everything better than I’d hoped he would. He hadn’t just stepped up to the plate—he’d made the plate his bitch, dominating it the way he dominated the field every Sunday. He’d shifted into the role of a father like it was a second skin, looking at Charlie with the kind of familiarity that suggested he’d been there for every one of her seven years.
I’d always known Grant would be the kind of father I’d want my daughter to have, but I’d never guessed he’d forgive me so easily, that he’d be able to move on so quickly, as though he didn’t believe in holding grudges or being resentful.
Instead, he treated me as he had all those years ago, as though nothing had come between us and kept us apart. He’d gone out of his way to take care of me.
How had I gotten here?
That was the question still cycling through my head when I heard the shower turn off. In the minute that followed, I did everything I could not to think about what was behind that closed bathroom door. What being a wet and naked Grant Turner.
What being the only man I’d ever loved and the only man I ever would. My life was winding to an end, but his was only really getting started. There’d be more for him, despite whatever he said or thought. There’d be love, heartache, and more love. For Grant, I would be one of the many. For me, he was the one of them all.