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Erin paced back and forth in front of the window, watching for Brock’s car with a mixture of excitement and dread. She couldn’t wait to see him again, but she didn’t know how to confess her predicament—and that she’d kept him in the dark.
Despite her best efforts to locate Gram, which consisted of calling her phone nonstop and stalking the dozens of Fellows she could find in Indiana, she’d failed. The twenty-second had arrived, and she was no closer to solving their housing crisis than she’d been when the letter arrived.
While getting ready for their date, she’d decided she had to tell Brock. He would see it on her face the moment he arrived. So many people had asked her what was wrong throughout the week. She’d stopped going out to avoid the barrage of annoying inquiries. “What’s wrong?” people would ask. “Why so down?” Or her favorite, “Did you and Brock break up?”
They might be by the way she’d avoided his calls. Every time they’d talked, she’d cut their conversations short and resorted to vague texts. It was too hard to pretend things were fine, that she was working away on his account and others, counting down the hours to when she’d see him again, when her world was falling apart.
The longer she went without hearing from Gram, the more concerned she became—and not just for their living situation. Where was Gram, and why hadn’t she checked in? Liza did her best to ease Erin’s fears, but Gram had never gone more than a week without reaching out. Erin would never forgive herself if something had happened to Gram.
As the clock ticked toward six, Erin checked her reflection in the mirror. Regardless of the circumstances, she wanted to look good for Brock. She’d worn her favorite midnight-green satin midi dress with peep-toe heels and a bold red lipstick Liza insisted would complete the look. Her stomach seized when she heard a car pull into her drive.
She slipped her feet into her shoes, grabbed her clutch and faux fur jacket, and opened the door, only to stumble back and grip the doorframe in shock. “What?”
Gram stepped out of Brock’s car wearing his oversized coat and a got-you-good grin. “Surprise,” she said, patting a petrified Erin on the cheek as she scrambled into the house. “It’s good to be home.”
Erin couldn’t close her mouth, not even when Brock leaned in and kissed her on the lips. “Hello, gorgeous.”
“I don’t understand.” She pointed to Gram. “How did you …”
“Your boyfriend chartered a plane.” She placed her palms on her lower back and stretched. “Fanciest ride I’ve ever taken. I may never fly commercial again.”
“How did you find her?” Erin asked Brock, her mind swirling. “How did you know?”
Brock stared at her intently, a blend of hurt and annoyance on his too-handsome face. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I … I didn’t want to burden you with my problems.”
“Erin, you have to trust me.”
“I do trust you.” She gripped his arms and squeezed. “It had nothing to do with trust. I don’t want to be another person in your life you have to take care of. You get enough of that from your family.”
He tilted his head and gave her a tiny shake. “That’s what people do in relationships. They lean on each other. They ask for help and help each other. I want you to come to me with your problems, just like I want to come to you with mine.”
Tears sprang into her eyes, and she launched herself into his arms. “I’m so sorry, Brock. I should have told you.” She pulled back, and blinked away the tears. “How in the world did you find her?”
“It took some doing. I’ve got a friend who runs an adventure outfitting company out of San Jose. I called in a favor.”
“I can’t believe it. I can’t believe she’s here. But …” she twisted around, frowned at Gram. “It’s too late. We had to have the letter to the company by today.”
Gram exchanged a knowing look with Brock. “Your boyfriend flew me to Memphis. We dropped the letter off on our way back to Cherry Creek.” She looked around the house and out the window. “Looks like I’m going to have a white Christmas after all.”
“Looks like.” Erin turned to Brock, her heart thumping inside her chest. “How can I ever repay you?”
Brock stepped to her, and gathered her in his arms. “Slate is clean. We don’t keep score and we don’t keep secrets.”
“Never again. I promise.”
A knock had them turning to see Liza and Ben enter the house.
“You made it,” Ben said, slapping Brock on the shoulder.
“Just in time,” Brock said.
“Who’s this?” Gram asked, eyeing Ben like she’d eye a piece of candy.
Ben extended his hand to Gram. “You must be the famous Gram I’ve heard so much about.”
