Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 91497 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91497 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Michael shakes the flowers and Grant slowly looks back at me as if waiting for something, but I can’t decipher what he wants me to do quickly enough and then he’s already on the move, setting his knife on the cutting board and sliding past Michael. I swear the air crackles between them as Grant brushes his shoulder with no apology. They’re total opposites, a warm front and cold front meeting and wreaking havoc in the sky, with me down below, a peon holding an inverted umbrella whipping in the wind.
“Nice guy,” Michael says with a laugh.
I almost, almost tell him off. Which is absurd because he’s only trying to cut the tension.
Grant is a nice guy. Only, not to Michael.
What a mess.
“Got a vase for these?” Michael asks, holding the daisies out for me.
I’m slightly annoyed. The flowers are a nice gesture, they really are, but it’s also mildly irritating because we keep the few vases we have in the cabinet over the fridge and to get them I need to retrieve the step ladder from the hall closet and I can’t do that because I’m in the middle of cooking dinner for a big group of people, and I don’t even really like daisies all that much but Michael’s never bothered to ask me that so here we are.
I force a smile. “Why don’t we just put them in a water glass for now?”
“Really?” he asks, frowning a bit. It’s like he’s disappointed I’m not tripping over myself to arrange the bouquet this very second.
“Yes. I can’t get a vase right now.”
“Oh okay.”
I know I’m not being fair to Michael. I would absolutely cut him free if I were only using him as a pawn to make Grant jealous, but that’s not it at all. I genuinely like him. The more I get to know him, the more I think he and I could have a real chance together. He kissed me the other night. A gentle kiss right in the middle of dinner. It was a little cheesy. I had pizza sauce on my lips and he was trying to tell me where it was so I could wipe it off. We were laughing and being silly and the next thing I knew he was leaning across the table and kissing me. Simple, lighthearted, fun. Every one of our dates leaves me feeling content.
Isn’t that all that matters?
I could safeguard our relationship and not bring him around everyone, but that won’t work in the long run. I’m not avoiding my friend group just because of Grant. He doesn’t get to take a wrecking ball to my life. These are my friends too.
So Michael stays, and his flowers go into a water glass. I finish the pico de gallo and the guacamole and I pray the whole time that I’m doing this meal justice now that Grant’s going to eat it. I want to finish our conversation. I want to know more about his family, his life.
When dinner is ready, everyone piles their plates with food and I hold my breath, carefully surveying them as they take their first bites.
At the first audible mmm, I exhale a relieved sigh. The knot of tension in my stomach eases slightly, but it doesn’t go away altogether. I don’t think it’ll ever go away as long as Grant is in my vicinity.
“It’s so good,” Sophia says through a mouthful of food.
“The steak especially,” Josh adds. “I like the marinade you used.”
Nick shoots me two enthusiastic thumbs up, which in this apartment is as good as getting an “Extraordinary” rating in the New York Times’ Dining section.
I peer over at Grant. He’s sitting across the room from me on the floor, the same spot where we sat together the first night he was here. It’s not that I want him to wax poetic about the meal (I do), but even some small sign that he deems it edible would be nice. When he catches me watching him as he brings his fajita to his mouth for a second bite, he winks.
It’s so subtle and so fast I doubt it happened the moment it’s over.
I flush like he just stood up and screamed aloud to everyone, THIS IS THE BEST MEAL I’VE EVER EATEN.
Oh lord.
Get a grip!
Right. Good. I’m glad he likes it and, at the moment, I’m not going to delve into the reasons why his opinion matters more than everyone else’s, including Michael’s.
“It’s great, babe,” he says from beside me.
Babe.
That’s a new development.
I’ve never been a “babe” person, but that’s okay. I could become a babe person. And so what if it makes me think of the “Dinner Party” episode from The Office when Jan and Michael use the endearment incessantly. This is different. This is my Michael saying it.
“Babe?” Daphne mouths to me from the other end of the couch.