Into You Series: The Complete Collection

28. Grace

CHAPTER 28

GRACE

C ameron Kaufman and I don’t speak for a month.

I’m just as involved as ever in team meetings—if not more—but it’s only business talk. No conversations regarding giraffe socks or food stealing adventures or stolen kisses in cars; just design.

Oddly enough, Saria has become my go-to work acquaintance. We have lunch together, where she whines about her latest boy toy, which, it seems, is about three at a time. (Did you know having a backup for your backup boyfriend is recommended nowadays?) I stay silent and soak in the nineteen-year-old’s advice. Initially, I tried to start in a two-sided friendship, but I quickly realized Saria didn’t need that to thrive in a work relationship. The conversation flows much better when we only discuss her life.

Needless to say, it’s been a bit lonely lately.

This is not to say I don’t still have Ramona (who insists on calling every night), or my mom (who is adamant about Hank and I coming over for dinner now that she’s getting the hang of cooking), but work life just isn’t what it used to be.

For my first week back following Hank’s surgery, I would stay until exactly five o’clock, then head home and tend to Hank. We go on walks after I survey the street outside my window and ensure there’s no hunky, shirtless, floppy-haired man and his golden retriever.

But after one week of this, Hank’s bored to death. Once a normally behaved dog starts chewing throw pillows, you know you’ve made a mistake somewhere down the line. I think he misses Buddy.

There was one day when Cameron left before me and we sort of interacted. His office light turned off and the door opened to the taps of Buddy’s nails on the concrete floor. He dashed down the aisle toward Hank. Cameron didn’t follow his lead.

We made eye contact and he gave me a half smirk with a small wave. Before I could even wave back, he whistled and Buddy came running. They left, only the tiniest spots of drool left behind from his over-eager dog ready to play.

Now it’s Beer Friday, and I’m here late again. I avoid the warehouse on Fridays so I don’t have to look at Cameron. He always seems like he’s having the best time. I went to the first Beer Friday after we stopped talking, and it killed me to see him and Ian at the bar, Cameron’s sleeves rolled up, one elbow angled behind him on the counter. He looked so at ease and even a little happy.

Not that I don’t want him to be happy. I wish only the best for him. I just wish it could be me making him laugh.

I only notice how late it is once the noise from the warehouse dies down.

I look at my watch.

Crap.

I promised Ramona I would come over for dinner and a movie tonight. In return, she promised Cajun chicken with enough spice to burn my tongue for days.

I didn’t exactly ask for such a challenge, but RIP my tongue.

I pack up my things before calling Ramona. She answers in one ring.

“Okay, so how about we watch The Little Mermaid ?”

“Uh, hi, and why in the world would we watch The Little Mermaid ?” I ask, opening the passenger-side door to my car to let Hank hop in.

“I don’t know. She’s redheaded like you? A good heroine ready to kick ass?”

“I don’t think she’s kicking anything.”

“She gets feet eventually.”

Wes’s echoing voice comes over the phone. “And a vagina!”

“Am I ever not on speakerphone?” I ask, closing the door to my car and starting it. After a moment, it transfers to the Bluetooth car speaker, and Ramona’s groan comes in surround sound.

“I can’t contain the beast, Grace,” she says. “It’s either speaker phone or repeating the conversation later.”

I laugh and Hank barks.

“Oh oh ho! Who’s on speakerphone now?” Wes calls, and Hank barks once more.

I feel lighter being on the phone with them. But a giant anvil comes crashing down on that mood when I notice Cameron, waltzing out of the building, his keyring swinging over his index finger as usual, trusty golden steed following after him.

“The Little Mermaid sounds fine.” I’m barely focused on the conversation anymore. “I’ll see you guys in thirty.”

“Sure thing. Come ready to light your mouth on fire!” Ramona and Wes yell out in unison. They’re too cute for their own good.

I stare at Cameron as he walks to his car. Sure, it’s creepy. But I can’t stop staring.

I hesitate for a moment, wondering if I should get out of my car and talk to him. We could say anything. We could talk about the project, lunch, hell, even his socks, I don’t care. But I don’t move.

I see him reach up and run his heavy hands through his hair. Why does he even bother? It’s just going to fall back over in ten more minutes and then he’ll have to fix it again. In fact, he’s probably just making it worse by running through it over and over.

There. Now I have a reason to hate him.

He starts his car and drives through the parking lot, stopping at the entrance, looking both ways and turning out on the main road.

I’m willing to bet Cameron has forgotten all about what happened between us. It probably ended for him the second I left his car that night. I really give myself too much credit to think there was something more.

I buckle my seatbelt and look over to Hank, who has his nose smashed up against the glass. I lower the window, and he sniffs the fresh air.

I wonder if I could be even remotely as happy as Hank one day.

I arrive at Ramona’s house and Wes greets me and Hank at the front door with a large plate of onion rings, stacked and still steaming.

“Is this how you greet everyone that walks in?” I ask, grabbing a ring and shoving it into my mouth.

Rookie mistake.

“Oh wait—” Wes doesn’t finish before I spit it back on the plate. My tongue burns and I breathe with my mouth wide open.

“What in the blazing oil-dunked fire just destroyed my mouth?” I ask but it comes out more like, ‘whath inth thuh.’

“Yeah, they’re hot.”

I whine in response.

Wes moves to the side to let me in, closing the door behind me and yelling out, “Ray, she didn’t wait for them to cool!”

Okay, so I may have burned my mouth within the first five seconds of being here, but I’m still dead set on this being a good night. For the entire car ride, I’ve been building up this idea of The Little Mermaid in my head. Ariel is a no-nonsense, see-the-world type of girl that’s taking what’s hers. I’m going to find my legs, too. I’m going to best this ocean of emotions. I’m going to get with the prince one day. I’m going to do— Cameron?

On the couch, ankle crossed over his knee in classic Cameron Kaufman-style, is the one and only bearded man I thought I wouldn’t have to see for two days—complete with those dang corgi socks.

“Let’s not all act surprised!” I hear Ramona yell back to her husband. “Give Grace food and she’ll eat it!” It’s hard to gauge Wes’s reaction when I can’t tear my eyes away from Cameron.

His head is cocked to the side and he’s laughing good-naturedly at Ramona’s comment. His dimples are deep, and he has a hearty smile that’s just ready to burst with another bark of laughter. But then he finally sees me.

His smile doesn’t fully go away, so I guess I can take that as a win. But the dimples disappear, which is the real tragedy here.

“What.” That’s all I can get out once I find my voice.

Hank trots over to him, licking his hands as Cameron absentmindedly pets his head. It’s like we’re both trying to remain calm but, am I in a nightmare right now?

The tapping sound of Buddy’s nails come skidding around the corner and there’s that excited face I know so well. His tongue lolls out and he’s already sniffing Wes’s crotch. He laughs and pushes him away.

“I hope you don’t mind.” Wes’s voice brings me back, making me jump a little. “We invited Ian over too, and he brought a friend who apparently also doesn’t have a life on a Friday night.”

Wes waves his hand to Cameron, who forces a laugh out and pats the couch arm to direct Buddy over.

Wes stares at me. “Geez, that onion ring did a number on you. Want some water?”

“What?” I repeat, darting my eyes over to Wes. He squints at me.

“Honey, you need to change that recipe!” he calls to Ramona, walking toward the kitchen, the plate of rings stretched out in front of him as if afraid they may jump off and scald him, too. “Pretty sure those rings killed Grace!”

Well, at least something here has.

Ramona comes around the corner with a red apron covered in flour. It says Fri-YAY! on the bust. Her thick black hair is piled in a bun that probably tried its best to hold shape at the top of her head, but now it looks like a deflated beehive, curly strands sticking out every which way.

“You’ll get over it,” she says, pulling me into an embrace.

I look over her shoulder to see Cameron staring back at me, his hand clutching a beer to the point of nearly crushing the can.

She pulls out of the hug and places her hands on my shoulders to keep me situated in front of her. After looking me up and down and letting out a heavy sigh, I give a half-hearted smile back.

“You really got to stop staying so late,” she huffs. “It’s a Friday! Relax!”

Well, yes, I would relax but there, right there, is the one man who makes me the most un relaxed.

This Friday sucks.