Lifting my head up enough I could examine his face, I quirked an eyebrow. “Grant Turner’s woman? Is that what I am?”
He shot me an amused look as he pulled in front of some nice building where an army of valets came jogging toward the truck. “You’ve always been my woman.” He shrugged and put the truck into park.
I leaned back so we could unbuckle, and when I did, the heaviness of his words settled over me. “I know. I’ll tell her soon, but not yet. I don’t want her to find out from anyone else, but not yet.” I inhaled and tried not to think about tomorrow, despite tomorrow always being in the front of my mind. “I want her to have as many carefree days as she can.”
Grant held onto the door when one of the valets tried to open it. “Just because she knows about what’s going on with you doesn’t mean her carefree days are over.”
I forced a smile like I believed him, but I didn’t. I knew the opposite was true. I knew once she knew what her mommy had, and what that meant for her, the days of whimsy and carefree would come to a screeching halt.
“Where are we?” I asked when Grant finally let his door be pulled open.
He was already tipping the valet before he’d climbed out. “I can’t say the name. It’s French. Or Italian. Or something I can’t pronounce.”
A laugh slipped out of me as the valet helped me out. “Have you ever eaten here before?”
Grant had already come around to get me before both of my feet had hit the pavement. “No, but everyone in New York says this is the place to eat. The place to take a special person. It’s one of those four of ten or whatever star rated places.”
I let him take my hand after I’d woven my arm around his, happy to let him lead us into the building. So far, the media presence had been non-existent in Storm country, however, this was also the first time Grant and I had been out in public together here. If Nowhere, Texas, was any indication of what was in store for us, I knew I’d have to grow a skin at least half a foot thick.
“Well, I can’t wait to try this restaurant that’s name we don’t know that’s been rated a handful of stars and recommended by everyone who’s anyone in this great metropolis.”
Grant peered over at me as a doorman swung the door open for us before we’d barely left the truck. “The sarcasm. Rein it in, wiseass.”
The street was busy and people were starting to recognize Grant as we moved toward the restaurant. Shouts and cameras started filling the air around us, but it didn’t seem to faze him. He gave a wave to the crowd then pressed his hand into my lower back and urged me a little faster inside the restaurant.
“Can you go anywhere without having to worry about fighting off a mob of fans?” I asked after the doorman had sealed the door behind us. The din of noise behind us continued to grow.
“It’s not like I can just blend into the crowd.” Grant lifted his chin at the hostess who was waiting for us.
“Hard to blend in when you tower above the crowd.” I craned my neck looking up at him to prove my point. Sometimes Grant didn’t feel much bigger than me, and other times, he felt like a giant. This was one of those giant times.
“Hard to blend in with this ugly mug.” He grinned at me as the hostess led us through the dining room. “Why do you think they insist we all wear helmets? For our brains’ sake? No, it’s to spare the viewers at home any unwanted nightmares.”
Nudging him, I tried to ignore the way people were turning in their seats to watch us as we filed through the restaurant. “Good to know.”
All teasing aside, Grant’s face was nowhere on the offensive spectrum. It was the face of my best childhood memories, and every scar, bump, and break had been earned in defense of himself or someone he cared about. When I looked at Grant, I saw beauty. Those men with pretty faces, teeth too straight, and hair too perfect didn’t know sacrifice like Grant did.
With his hand still molded into the bend of my back, Grant led me through the dining room, not caring what people thought or saw. There was no going back after this. The pictures would be shared and spread until the whole city knew Grant Turner was entertaining some new woman. I wasn’t sure if it would make ripples or if fans were used to seeing new photos of Grant with another woman, but I hoped we’d at least have a few days before anyone put it all together. Who I was, what we’d been long ago, who the young girl living at his house with me was.
“Is this private enough for you, Mr. Turner?” the hostess asked as she stopped in front of a table tucked into the back of the restaurant.