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She’d hurt him in return. And it only made her feel worse.
ChapterThirty
Michael pulledup outside the house and waited for a moment, his gaze hazing over as he remembered the last time they spoke.
But he needed to do this. It was the first step. The move forward. Time to stop feeling sorry for himself and attempt to make everything better.
When he knocked on the door, she opened it almost right away, her eyes betraying no surprise that he was standing on her doorstep.
“Aunt Becca,” he said, his voice firm. “I’m here to talk to you and Daniel.”
She stepped to one side, giving him a rueful smile. “Then you’d better come in.”
Daniel must have heard his voice, because he was standing in the hallway when Michael walked in. There was no anger in his expression like the last time they spoke. He, too, gave Michael a smile.
“I’m glad you came. I wanted to talk to you but…” He shrugged. “Grace asked me not to.”
The mention of her name made Michael’s chest contract. “How is she?”
“Her head is getting better,” Becca said. “Her heart is still a work in progress.”
He nodded, knowing that it was his fault. “I’m in love with her.”
Becca laughed. “I would hope so. She’s easy to love.”
“Yeah, she is. And I wanted to tell you before I tell her. Not because I’m looking for your blessing, but because you need to know that this is all my fault.”
“I think I can take some of the blame,” Daniel said, pressing his lips together.
“Yes you can.” Becca put her arm around Daniel’s waist. “I should have just smashed your heads together. So why are you still here? Why aren’t you going to Grace’s already?”
“I don’t like loose ends. And this felt like one.” He looked at Daniel. “I understand why you were upset. But I need you to know that your opinion shouldn’t have mattered to me. I should have ignored you. Fought for her.”
“And I shouldn’t have asked you to walk away.”
Becca rolled her eyes. “No, you shouldn’t have. You’re both idiots who seem to have forgotten that Grace is old enough to make her own decisions.”
Ouch. That hurt. But it was true. “I hate that I hurt her,” he told them. “I’m trying to work out how I can make it right.”
“Then go do what you need to.” Daniel held his hand out and Michael took it, folding his fingers around Daniel’s strong knuckles. “I know you don’t want my blessing, but you have it anyway.”
“Thank you.” Michael nodded, releasing their handshake. “That means a lot.”
He turned and made his way back outside, hearing the front door click behind him, and let out the long breath he’d been holding.
The first step was done. There were so many more to come. But at least he was moving forward.
And it felt good.
* * *
Grace spent the afternoon tidying her house, even though there really wasn’t anything out of place. Moving photographs from one table to another, pulling out clothes in her closet that she hadn’t worn in more than a year, though the one piece of clothing she should have thrown away she couldn’t bring herself to.
She’d stolen Michael’s t-shirt from him when he’d gone to London to close up his business, claiming she wanted something of his to keep her warm at night. She hadn’t worn it, just cuddled up to it, the soft overwashed cotton pressed against her cheek. Like a child who needed to be comforted with a lovie.
And when she found it in her drawer, she had every intention of throwing it away. She’d crumpled it in her hand and stomped down to her kitchen, opening the trash can. But instead of dropping it in, she’d lifted it to her face and inhaled.
The smell of him had overwhelmed her. A mixture of laundry soap and Michael, it was an intoxicating combination.
