Bulldozer (Hard to Love 3)

“Mommy––”

I hug him and rub his back. “Get it all out. It’s good to let it out. You’re going to be fine. You’re going to have so much fun with your dad the time will fly,” I whisper for his ears only.

“Don’t go anywhere, okay?”

“I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here waiting for you to come back. Me, Roxy, and Grant. We’re going to miss you so much. So so much.”

Roxy jumps up on us and tries to lick Sam’s face, sensing her young master is in distress.

“Don’t leave me,” he cries while my composure shatters. “Promise you won’t go anywhere without me…”

This is a stark reminder that there’s no magic cure for our problems. Nothing can replace time and understanding. Day in and day out, keeping my promise to him that nothing will ever come between us again is the only way to heal those wounds.

“I promise. I’m not going anywhere…get it all out. And when you’re ready, say goodbye to Roxy because she’s really going to miss you.”

He picks his head up off my shoulder, chin tipped down, gaze cast on the floor as he wipes his face. “Bye, Roxy, love you,” he says to the dog, giving her a quick hug.

The heck?

“Hey––” I say, gapping. “What about me?” I poke his side and he smiles. Throwing his arms around my neck one more time, he says, “Love you,” in a quiet voice.

“Love you more,” I tell him, placing a thousand kisses on the side of his soft neck.

Gaze still downcast, he shuffles up to Grant and hugs his waist. Grant pulls him closer and rubs his back. “Don’t forget to call us, little man. I’m going to miss you.”

Sam nods and walks out with a wave. Ronan’s cool gaze cuts back and forth between me and Grant, looking for answers that are none of his business.

Grant picks up Sam’s luggage with three fingers and hands it to Ronan. The bag drops to the floor with a bang when it slips through Ronan’s grasp. Sigh.

“If a reporter calls, it’s okay to speak to her about me. I gave her your number,” says the man that in the past accused me of gaslighting his career. Something about his stiff delivery gets my attention but I brush it off. I have real problems and soothing Ronan’s fragile ego isn’t one of them.

When Ronan goes to hoist up the bag and struggles, I bite back a shameful chuckle.

“For an article?”

“No. A book,” he corrects. “Anyway––I wanted to give you a heads-up.”

I nod. “Have a safe trip and take care of my kid,” I warn, crossing my arms and tucking my hands away. A yawning chasm has already begun to open in my chest. I miss him already and he’s only in the car.

“I’ll call you,” Ronan returns. A beat later he steps out the front door.

Grant walks over and wraps me up in him. “Get it all out,” he murmurs. “You’ll feel better.”

And I do, I cry into his neck until I can’t cry anymore.

Chapter Twenty-One

I walk into a dark, empty house with a nervous flutter in my gut, not even Roxy to greet me. I drop my purse by the door and kick off my flip-flops. After teaching three classes back to back, I desperately need a shower but that can wait. I’ve been wishing the minutes away all day in anticipation of this moment. All I want to do right now is wrap my arms around Grant’s neck and kiss him like nobody’s watching.

Sam is in California. I called this morning and he sounded settled. Good. Stronger. It went a long way in soothing my worry.

Nothing stands in our way. Not a child. Not my past or his. No more excuses. I haven’t allowed myself to want something since I was a kid and still harbored hope for the future.

Along the way the disappointment piles up, leaves its mark on you. You tell yourself it’s a normal part of the growing process. You tell yourself to put away childish notions. But really, it’s a cop-out because with each disappointment you lose a little piece of your soul until you can’t bear to hope anymore. Until the despair of disappointment outweighs the thrill of hope.

I really want this. I want him. All of him. Whether that means a little or a lot doesn’t matter anymore. Like he said, we’ll make the rules up as we go.

“Grant?”

The only sound I can detect is the quiet hum of the refrigerator coming from the kitchen. My eyes search the house and spy an envelope taped to the wall opposite the front door.

Read me is scribbled across it.

Smiling like a loon, I rip it open and pull out the card inside. Go to your bedroom, it says. My feet move before I’m even done reading, expecting to find Grant naked and ready for me. God, please let him be naked. Funny how the tables have turned.