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“Don’t play cocky business mogul with me. You have single-handedly put your mark on everything I care about.”
He frowned. “Speaking of what you care about”—snark came out, because he was hurt she was talking about her bar rather than him—“why aren’t you serving drinks at Cal’s event tonight? I thought that was an important job to you.”
“It was, until I found out you set it up. And you already bought the bar.”
“It’s not my bar,” he said quietly.
“I never asked you to come in and fix my life. I was doing fine. I can take care of myself. I could have bought the bar myself.”
“Yes, I’m aware. You can do everything by yourself, Hannah.”
She straightened and kept her eyes on him, but there was a softness now.
“I never would have taken anything from you. I tried to give you everything. I hired Cal to remodel Goonies however you want. It’s yours.”
She shook her head. “That’s not what I wanted.”
“Bullshit,” he said, his calm getting tougher to cling to. “All you talked about was that bar. Your home. You picked it over me. Over us. I wanted you to have it. I understand.”
“No, you idiot, I wanted you!” she said.
Grant frowned.
“You just didn’t give me a chance. You kept secrets. Worked behind my back instead of with me. Why? Why wouldn’t you just tell me you’re a bazillionaire and had all these deals you were setting up in my town? Why go behind my back? I trusted you, and you kept secrets.”
“Because I wanted you to want me for me,” he said. “I didn’t want money to get in the way.” He’d grown up with a woman wh
o valued money over her son. Only had unsuccessful relationships with women who wanted his money more than him. He wanted Hannah to be different. She was different. And part of him hadn’t realized how scared he’d been of that.
She shook her head. “I could give a shit about money. I care about the man you are. You should have told me.”
She blew out a breath, picked up her glass, downed the drink in one swallow, and placed it back on his desk.
“I wanted you, not all your shit.”
“Charming sentiment, baby.”
“Well, whatever. I don’t know why you put all your ‘estate’”—she air quoted the last word, and Grant figured Harvey had called her about what he’d set into motion—“in my name, but I don’t want it.”
“I put it in your name because I trust you. Because you’re a Laythem. Because my mother was coming after my father’s assets, the company, all of it. So I had to transfer everything to a safe place with a person I trusted.”
She took a few steps around the room, then back. Pacing. Then she scoffed. “Here I thought you were trying to take things from me, when in reality, you gave everything you had to me. You have way more to lose on paper.”
Grant nodded.
But her eyes were bright and blue and sad when they met his. “But off paper, I lost big. Because you took my heart and soul when you walked out.”
Grant watched water fill her eyes, and it was like a punch to the gut. He never wanted to make Hannah cry. Ever. And she stood there, totally right.
He’d gone about everything backward. Let himself get caught up in things that didn’t matter. Let himself get caught up in his own secrets and fears. He should have trusted her to handle it. All of it.
She walked to his office door, then turned to face him. “I came here to tell you to take your stuff back. I’ll buy the bar from you with my own money. But the rest, take back. I don’t want it.”
She turned the door handle, and Grant leaped out of his seat and charged the door, shutting it with his hand before she could open it.
“You’re right,” he whispered. “I handled this all wrong.”
She looked up at him. “What were you so afraid would happen if you let me in entirely?” she asked.
