Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 89503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
“Hey, guys,” I say, smiling at Gus. “You better be ready for some fried chicken, kid. Lolly has been cooking all day.”
“She made fried chicken? Are you serious?”
Jory laughs.
“She heard it was your favorite food,” I say.
“Heck yeah!”
I lean up as Jory bends down to plant a kiss on my forehead.
“How are you feeling this afternoon?” he asks, stroking my cheek with his thumb. “I hated leaving you asleep without checking on you, but Gus got dropped off at like eight thirty this morning.”
I want to tell him that the juice and medicine he left on my nightstand, along with the little note, was more than anyone has ever left me in my life. But with Gus right here, I can’t.
“I’m okay. I think I would’ve been worse if I hadn’t been forced to drink water last night.” I side-eye Gus. “And the exercise after the ceremony helped flush it out of my system.”
Jory’s eyes heat. “I’ve heard that’s a cure-all.”
“I’ll definitely be trying it again.”
He slides a hand across the small of my back, letting me lead the way into the house.
“What do I call your grandma?” Gus asks. “Does she have a name? Or Mrs. St. James? Or what?”
“Well, she was my mom’s mom, so she’s not a St. James,” I say. “But you can call her Lolly. She’d probably be offended if you tried to call her anything else.”
We take the steps to the door, and Gus holds it open for me. A gentleman, just like his daddy.
“If Lolly says anything embarrassing or about grandkids, just play along and know that I can’t stop her,” I whisper hurriedly.
Jory’s fingers flex against my skin.
“I think everyone is in the dining room already,” I say.
“Are we late?” Gus asks, his brow pulled together.
“No. Lolly just got excited that you were coming and got dinner done much faster than usual,” I say. It’s partly true. “Hey, everyone. Look who I found in the driveway.”
Hartley comes around the table to shake Jory’s hand. Mira waves at Gus.
“Gus, this is my sister Mira, and her husband, Hartley.” I point to my grandmother. “And this is my Lolly.”
“You are the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” Lolly says. “Welcome to my home.” Her gaze lifts to Jory’s. “Both of you.”
Gus extends the flowers wrapped in florist paper. “Thank you for having us. I brought you flowers. Hope you like them.”
“Oh, dear heavens.” Lolly takes them and then pulls Gus into a hug. “You are the sweetest thing. Come with me and let’s find a vase.”
She winks at me as they walk by.
“We’re never going to get to eat,” Hartley says, chuckling.
Jory pulls out my chair for me, waiting until I sit. Then he takes the one beside me, across from Hartley.
“It all looks great,” he says, surveying the spread in front of us. “Is this a special occasion or just how she cooks?”
Mira laughs. “This is Sunday dinner. She forgets that she has two granddaughters and not an army.”
Lolly and Gus return with the flowers transferred to a glass vase. She sets them in the center of the table as if it’s her new prized possession. Gus beams as he sits beside his dad.
“Speaking of flowers,” Mira says, as Lolly gets situated. “I found the name of that florist in Nashville that we used to send flowers to Astrid a couple of months ago. I emailed it to you if you want to use it to send something to Tally for her surgery.”
My shoulders sag. “Yes. Thank you. The last place I used sent some janky, half-dead tulip or something, and it was like one hundred and fifty dollars.”
“I remember you said something about it when you were over the other night for the wedding planning stuff, and I stumbled upon it today.”
Lolly clears her throat. “Hartley, would you say grace?”
We bow our heads.
Jory and I reach for the other’s hands at the same time. Our fingers lace together under the table, resting against the side of Jory’s thigh. It’s one of my favorite things about him—the way he instinctively reaches for me like he doesn’t even think about it.
Last night, as I lay beside him in my bed, listening to his heartbeat in the still of the night, something inside me softened. I can’t explain it, but I felt it. It was like my body gave up the fight, like it chucked the shield it keeps around because it’s just too heavy.
Kind of like it’s not mine to carry anymore.
The thought is terrifying because what happens if I lose it? What if I need it someday and can’t find it? What am I supposed to do—just live life and walk around with a target in the center of my chest?
The hard part to rectify is that the only one who could hurt me is Jory. And the only reason I can lay it down is because of him, too.