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“Why not?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess it was just never the right time. It wasn’t my grandfather’s thing, and it’s certainly not my brother’s. We usually do low-key dinners together, and that’s about it. His idea of excitement is changing up his usual brand of socks.”
My chuckle echoes off the building next to us and lingers. “People could probably say the same about me.”
She laughs. “You like a certain kind of sock, huh?”
“Doesn’t everyone?”
She shakes her head and laughs. “I put on whatever socks come out of the drawer first. I usually don’t even take the time to match them when I pull them out of the laundry.”
“Blasphemy,” I breathe dramatically.
We’re both silent for a minute before she speaks again. This time, her voice is soft, and I have to listen harder to hear all the words. “You know, if you wanted to ask me about my parents now…I’d tell you.”
I smile and squeeze her hand. “And I figured when you were ready to tell me, I wouldn’t have to ask.”
We walk almost another block in silence, our friends running, bouncing, and clowning loudly in front of us before she speaks again. “They died in a car accident. One last date night before they had another kid to take care of. My brother was home with a babysitter, and my mom was eight months pregnant with me. Apparently, they saved me, but they couldn’t do anything for them.”
“Greer,” I whisper.
She shakes her head and shrugs. “I never met them. I wish I had, but in a way, it helps. I don’t really know what I’m missing, you know?”
I nod because it’s all I can do. I can’t speak, and I can’t change it, no matter how much I wish I could.
“My grandfather and my brother raised me.”
“Is your grandfather still alive?”
She shakes her head. “He passed away ten years ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
“So am I. But it doesn’t matter how much we want them to, no one lives forever. I’m just lucky to have had him be such a big part of my life while he was here.”
“Thanks for sharing with me,” I say. “I feel privileged.”
She smiles then, and my heart swells two sizes. “You listened to what I said, and you put in the effort. You more than earned it.”
In this moment, I’m certain that the effort I’m willing to put in when it comes to Greer is both effortless and infinite in its supply. And God do I want to be the kind of man who not only earns her trust and her time and her laughs and her smiles and all of the good, amazing things that are Greer, but I want to be the kind of man who is deserving of her, too.
Greer
My hand shakes as I apply the lipstick Emory lent me. My hair is professionally blown out, my dress may as well be shrink-wrapped, and my toes are crammed into a pair of wholly uncomfortable but fabulous shoes.
And my stomach feels like its contents might make a reappearance and ruin it all at any moment.
When Trent first invited me to the Mardi Gras ball for the city, I assumed I was an easy plus one for a mandatory function. Ever since the fiasco with the permits, he’s done his best to stay on the good side of the city—especially the mayor.
Even though the inspector found everything in order when he came out to the site and the decision was reversed, the whole ordeal put the entire project on the city’s radar. The city council even started to make rumblings that the Vanderturn New Orleans is a cookie-cutter establishment being developed by money-hungry billionaires with no real interest in the city or its history.
But Trent has gone out of his way to prove their assumptions false, including accepting an invitation to the Mardi Gras ball with enthusiasm and grace.
Secretly, I’m impressed by the way he’s handled it all.
And after nearly two full months of hating me, then getting to know me, and then, forming a friendship, Trent and I have reached a level of comfort we both enjoy. On Tuesdays, he comes over to watch Game of Games with me, and at least three nights a week, we have dinner together.
We’ve fallen into a routine of sorts, and while it’s not exactly noteworthy stuff, I thought we’d both come to enjoy it.
But as I found out a week ago when he was asking me to attend the ball with him, that’s not entirely the case.
Trent, it seems, had been biding his time, waiting for something.
Something, if I’m honest, I’ve thought a lot about too but have been way too scared to even consider.
“The thing is, I want this to be a real date,” he said after I agreed to go.
“Trent—”
“I want a chance, Greer. One chance to show you what it could be like if you let it happen. If you’re still convinced it’s not a good idea afterward, I’ll leave it alone. You have my word.”
