“Forgive and forget?” she asked hopefully, her voice trembling.
“No. Never.”
Eliza flinched, taken aback by his response.
Grant took a step toward her. “Forgive? With all my heart. But never forget. Because every time I remember losing you, I’ll cherish each second we’re together like it’s our last. That is… if you’ll have me.”
Her heart bursting with love for this sweet, forgiving man, Eliza ran to him, flinging her arms around his neck.
Engulfing her in his embrace, Grant lowered his mouth to hers. And all the secret tears, silent prayers, and sacrificed moments were eclipsed by their kiss, leaving them breathless. Eliza wanted to weep with joy, but couldn’t stand the thought of their lips ever parting.
Regretfully, she pulled away when a rough, slimy tongue slobbered on her leg.
Two adorable gray-blue eyes stared up at her beneath thick, bushy eyebrows.
“Hey, there.” She reached down for the pup to sniff then lick her hand.
His shaggy tail wagged in approval, and Eliza laughed.
“Do you like him, Mom? Do you like him?” Ben gripped Vinny’s leash, his dark eyes hopeful.
“I…” Eliza turned to Grant, and her heart swelled at the magnitude of love communicated in a single glance. For a moment, she took in every extraordinary detail he’d passed on to their son… the thick, unruly hair. The dark, expressive eyebrows. The smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose. And now, his adorable glasses. Ben was no longer her Mini-Me. But a beautiful blend, the best of both of them put together. And she couldn’t wait to discover more ways he’d be exactly like his father.
Gazing back at her son, she smiled. “I think he’s a perfect addition to the family.”
And at that, Vinny barked in complete agreement.
* * *
The mattress creaked as Grant shifted his weight. Slowly sitting upright, he did his best not to disturb Vinny curled into a ball by his feet. Stifling a yawn, he stretched his arms overhead, squinting against streaks of bright sunlight that infiltrated the heavy, plaid drapes.
Nearly every inch of the chicken coop was covered in plaid, from the curtains to the bedspread to the upholstery of the portly armchair. Although not enormous by any means, it resembled a small studio apartment and was larger than Grant expected. The original structure must have housed hundreds of chickens, and Jack had clearly added a decent chunk of square footage when he’d installed the plumbing for the bathroom. All in all, it wasn’t a bad place to call home.
Or a temporary home, at least.
Grant slung his feet over the side of the bed, rubbing a kink in the back of his neck. He’d have to do something about the pillow, though. Too lumpy. He made a mental note to replace it without bothering Jack, along with the scratchy towels.
Grant was beyond grateful to his friend for giving him a place to stay. After learning what his mother had done to Eliza, he could hardly stomach staying in the same town with her, let alone the same house.
Gathering a deep breath, he padded barefoot across the pine slat floor. Opening the rustic armoire, Grant unzipped the garment bag housing his suit. The rich, dark chocolate wool gleamed in the sunlight, stirring a hankering for a strong cup of freshly brewed coffee.
As he dressed, Grant’s mind wandered to last night, when he’d told Eliza about Colt’s visit and asked her to fill in the missing pieces of the story. At his request, she’d tearfully told him everything, and he’d never felt so sick to his stomach. How could his mother do something like that? How couldanyone, for that matter?
A knock on the door drew Grant from his thoughts, momentarily disturbing Vinny.
The pup raised his small, scruffy head, shooting a lazy glance toward the offending sound before burrowing back into the bedspread.
Chuckling, Grant eased open the door to find Jack standing on the stoop, deep creases of frustration etched into his forehead.
“The darn tie won’t tie,” he grumbled, stomping inside.
“Don’t you hate it when they won’t tie themselves?” Grant’s lips twitched as he made room for Jack’s hulking frame. At six four, Jack could barely stand up straight without his head grazing the ceiling.
“It’s too early for jokes, Parker.” Irritable, Jack scratched his jawline while Grant tried to undo the havoc wreaked on the silk tie.
Suppressing another chuckle, Grant noticed his friend’s burly beard had been trimmed down to one step above clean shaven, accentuating his strong features. “You should trim your beard more often. You look like a normal member of society rather than a madman who lives in the woods eating moss and bark beetles.”
Jack narrowed his eyes. “What did I say about making wisecracks at the crack of dawn?”
