“That would be telling,” he said with a grin, swooping in to kiss my cheek and then trying to give Portia a hug.
Portia fended him off with an icy glare and he just laughed, stepping back and going on:“And you know I can’t let you get a single hint of your birthday surprise. Mind like a steel trap and the determination of a bloodhound.”
I noticed that he forgot to mention the bloodthirstiness of a great white shark, but in the interest of keeping the peace I decided to let this glaring omission pass.
Meanwhile, Portia was once again displaying a level of human emotion that for most people would probably have come off as‘very little emotion’but for her was the visual equivalent of a passionate outburst: her lips twitched upward slightly, and the faintest blush colored her cheeks.“Flatterer.”
“Ah, you’ve caught me,”he said, pulling up a chair to sit next to her.“I should have known better than to try to sneak one past you! I’ve only been buttering you up to convince you to let me borrow Lacey and visit your tailor; he would have so many good ideas for outfits more appropriate to her new station.”
New station? I was going to take Grant to a new station and push him in front of a train at that new station if he joined the Bully Lacey For Not Having Any Money party.
Portia appeared torn between her desire to agree that I needed new clothing, her desire to deny me things, and her desire to appease Grant.
Grant took advantage of her struggle to press home his argument: “You’ll do all of this so much better without us getting under your feet anyway,”he said, rising with a quick peck of a kiss to her cheek.“What was that you always said to me when I was growing up?‘If I wanted a shaggy ragamuffin underfoot upsetting my plans, I’d have gotten a puppy, so go ask your grandfather if he needs any help.’”
He smiled in fond recollection; I internally raised an eyebrow that he could smile in fond recollection at what was seemed to be basically a fancy way of saying‘you’re an annoying little brat; fuck off into the sun.’
“You always took such good care of me. I always know I can count on you.”
Portia dithered, at least as much as an iceberg can dither.“Well—”
“Thanks, Portia! You’re a doll!”Grant grabbed my hand and swept me off my feet, simultaneously kissing Portia on the cheek again.“We’ll see you later!”
And we were out the door and into the bright sunshine before she could say another word, and I was almost dizzy with delight. Grant’s car might not have been a pumpkin carriage, but I could not have been happier to get away from his godmother.
? ? ?
We were at the Japanese tea garden of the Golden Gate Park, gently sculpted bonsai trees scattered artistically amidst elegant shrubs, bright pink blossoms, burbling brooks, simple yet striking bridges, and resplendent pagodas. It was almost deserted, everyone else seemingly still at their indoor lunches as we walked through greenery so carefully cultivated it almost seemed to be a temple. It was a beautiful yet strangely still place to find in the midst of a bustling metropolis, so serene, so utterly at peace.
It was basically the exact mirror opposite of how I felt.
“I can’t do this!” I finally blurted when I realized that Grant was just going to keep walking in silence unless I said something. “Really, I can’t do this. No one could do this; I thought I could, but this—this is just—this is so much more than I realized!”
“Breathe, Lacey.” Grant took my hands, his thumbs rubbing gently over my skin in soothing circles. “We’ll get through this. Look at me.” I did, and oh, big mistake. Those eyes, deep sapphire pools that the designer of this garden could only have dreamed of making. “Breathe. There you go. We’ll get through this.”
“How?” I asked his eyes plaintively.
He pulled me into a big bear hug, his strong arms reassuring around me, and rubbed my back. “You’re a capable woman,” he said softly into my ear. “I’ve seen you at work. This seems insurmountable, but you’ll break it down into its components and tackle them one by one. Before you know it, you’ll have conquered them all.”
His hot breath on my ear was doing all sorts of things to my heart rate and my ability to concentrate on his actual words, and I fought against melting with my most potent weapon: sarcasm.
“Wow, have you looked into becoming a life coach?”
He pulled away slightly, which was good, right? That’s what I’d wanted him to do. So why did it make me feel so bad?
“Lacey…” He was coming over all wounded now, the manipulative bastard. Eyes like a puppy dog that had been told that Petco would no longer be selling squeaky toys.
“Why I am doing this anyway?” I snapped defensively. “This is so you. You expect everyone to do things for them, and somehow they just can’t say no and before they know it it’s yes-sir-Mr. Devlin, and would you like three mints on the bedside table!