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“I know. I’m really trying not to. It’s why I didn’t go into her apartment last night. Why I amtryingto take things slow. I want this to work.”
She smiles wide. “I’m so proud of you. I know it wasn’t easy to get over everything, and I know I didn’t make it easy…”
I shoot her a glare and she holds up her hands. “Okay, I was actively trying to sabotage you. Which for the record, I’m very sorry about.”
“That’s putting it lightly. But yes, I know. And it’s honestly not your fault. I should have trusted Grace enough to ignore you. I should have at least given her the opportunity to explain. I was just so blinded by my fear of losing our family—the pressure to keep the company afloat and our family in one piece—I snapped.”
Cat nods and reaches across the table, grabbing my arm as she meets my eyes. “I know. I’m sorry we all put that pressure on you. I kind of think it all needed to blow up though for us to come out the other side. I mean, you were working yourself to death, the stress was eating you alive, and I don’t think that would have stopped if not for the drama with Vanessa.”
I wince at the mere mention of her name. That’s one thing I can thank Hanson for—he destroyed her career in one swift move.Forcing me to link her to the drama with that statement about Grace, back when I wanted nothing to do with her, meant no news station wanted to go near Vanessa with a ten-foot pole. They took the word of a scorned man over their own employee. I’d feel bad about it if she wasn’t such an awful human being who purposefully tried to destroy Grace and my family and almost cost me my relationship with the only woman I’ve ever loved.
“So Christmas,” Cat says, as if she’s winding me up for her big reveal. “I’m thinking we all spend it in Bristol. With Pa and Grandmother.”
“Of course. Sounds great.”
“And Jay…” she says quietly and then as if she’s throwing me a bone, “maybe Grace will want to join us?”
I see right through her ploy. “I think it’s a little soon, but if it feels right, I’ll ask her. I’m sure she has plans though.”
Cat hums. “Maybe. I guess we’ll see.” The food is delivered then, and we both focus on eating.
As we are finishing up, Cat’s phone rings and she eyes me before picking it up. “Hey Grace, how are you?”
My heart skips just knowing she’s on the other end of the phone. And then a warmth envelops me because Grace has become friends with my sister. My best friend and the woman I love…the woman I hope will become my best friend, my everything. Her relationship with Cat was the one thing that was missing when Grace and I first got together. Everything feels like it’s almost within reach, and I can practically taste happiness.
When Cat’s demeanor changes, my pulse quickens. “Okay, I’ll be right there…No, Grace, don’t go on your own. I…No, Grace, you’re bleeding. You need to wait for me.”
Not waiting for Cat to say anything further, I throw money on the table, grab my sister by the hand, and drag her out of the restaurant before she has a chance to react. When Frank spots us, he must see from my clenched jaw that something is wrong, and he’s out of the car directing us inside immediately.
I grab the phone out of Cat’s hand and speak authoritatively, trying to keep the fear out of my voice. “Gracie, we are on our way; don’t move a fucking muscle.”
She hisses into the phone. “Fuck, Cash, I’m…” Her voice cracks and I feel my heart breaking.
Please don’t let her lose our baby. Please don’t do this to her.
“Grace, you’re going to be okay, you hear me? Talk to me. Just keep talking to me until we get there.”
I hear her sniffle into the phone. “Okay…”
“What are you wearing right now?”
I practically hit my head against the glass with the absurd question, but I can’t put two thoughts together. I have no idea what to say to her.
An exasperated sigh comes from the other side of the phone. “Cash, I don’t think now is the time.”
I cut her off. “Humor me, okay?”
Frank eyes me in the rearview mirror, and I give him a look to floor it.
Grace sighs again. “Nothing very exciting. Black leggings and a T-shirt.”
I smile for a moment just listening to her voice. “What kind of T-shirt?”
She grumbles into the phone.
“What did you say there, Angel?”
I can practically hear her rolling her eyes. “Your Red Sox T-shirt,” she says, making my head grow five times in size.
