The Truth in Tiramisu (A Poppy Creek Novel Book 2)

by Rachael Bloome

  Casting a furtive glance over his shoulder, Grant noticed a few curious onlookers. But no sign of his parents. Not that he was surprised. Or particularly disappointed, under the circumstances. He could only imagine the grief his mother would give him for dancing with Eliza all evening.

  Suddenly, her cryptic words flew into his mind unbidden.

  There are things about her you don’t know….

  Grant gritted his teeth, willing the unwelcome thought to disappear. He wouldn’t let her get inside his head. Especially tonight. “Why don’t we get some fresh air?”

  “I’d love to.”

  Almost as a reflex, Eliza slid her hand in his as he led her outside. His heart sputtering at her touch, Grant curled his fingers even tighter, never wanting to let go.

  They stepped into the calm of night, the darkness dispersed by a sky full of silvery stars and strands of golden, twinkling lights stretching from the eaves of the barn across the expansive field of Kentucky bluegrass. The music followed them, providing a mellifluous soundtrack as they strolled to the edge of the lawn overlooking the apple orchard.

  “Remember when we used to play tag between the rows of trees?” Eliza kept her hold on Grant’s hand. Her soft, tender grip made it difficult for him to concentrate.

  “I sure do. You were quick back then.”

  “I still am,” Eliza laughed.

  Grant’s breath hitched in his throat at the sight of her captivating smile framed in the moonlight. Did she have any idea how beautiful she was? Or how he longed to be the one to keep that vivid sparkle in her eyes?

  The dulcet notes of “It Had to Be You” carried across the lawn, prickling the back of Grant’s neck with goose bumps. They used to joke that this was their song. Although, they’d loved so many, they found it hard to choose. Years later, when Grant really wanted to torture himself, he would play it when he was alone in his apartment and let the lyrics mock him. Now, as the words washed over him, an uncomfortable tightness seized his throat, and he coughed to clear it.

  “Care to dance?” he asked, ignoring the huskiness in his tone.

  “Here?” Eliza bit her bottom lip, her wary glance darting back toward the barn.

  They were completely alone, save for a lone owl hooting in the distance. Grant liked to think the sage creature was imparting its wisdom, encouraging them to go for it.

  Eliza seemed to agree as she stepped into his arms, her lips tipped into a playful smile. “I suppose here is all right.”

  Grant chuckled softly, pulling her against him. “Glad you approve.”

  As they swayed to the familiar melody, Eliza rested her head against Grant’s chest, and he closed his eyes, breathing in her sweet scent. The scent he’d tried to hold on to for as long as possible. Even refusing to wash the hoodie she’d habitually borrowed in high school. The soft cotton fabric provided a passport back in time whenever he became fearful of forgetting.

  Grant splayed his fingers across her lower back, relishing the feel of her body nestled against his. For so many years, he’d physically ached to hold her in his arms again. And now, here they were. His most fervent dream encapsulated in a single moment in time, and Grant never wanted to wake up.

  But what if he told her how he felt? Would the protective curtain surrounding them come crashing down? Or did he have a chance to turn this—whatever this was—into something more?

  “Lizzy…” Grant started, soft and tentative, as though tiptoeing upon his confession. “There’s something I want to tell you. But I’m not sure if I should….”

  “What is it?” Eliza murmured, nuzzling against him, her voice distant and dreamy.

  Grant inhaled, noting the way her head rose and fell with each breath he took. It was now or never. He’d have to take the leap or learn to live with his regrets.

  And the latter seemed impossible.

  “The truth is… I’ve never stopped thinking about you, wondering if I gave up on us too easily.” His chest constricted at the memory of all those years ago, when he’d let her walk away.

  Grant allowed himself a fragment of time to revel in the blissful sensation of their entwined fingers, the pulse of their heartbeats thrumming as one, in case his next words broke the spell. “If there’s any hope of a future together, I will fight for you with everything I have. But if you love someone else… if there’s a chance that you, Ben, and his father can be a family… I won’t come between that. But if I have a shot… even if it’s a long shot, I have to know. If not, don’t sugarcoat it. I can handle the truth.”

  Finished with his proclamation, Grant held his breath, wondering if she could hear his desperate heart pummeling his rib cage.

  Eliza gazed up at him, her dark eyes shimmering like the twinkle lights draped above them.

  A small hesitant smile graced her lips as she asked, “What are you doing tomorrow night?”

  Chapter 19

  Drawing in a purposeful breath, Eliza attempted to steady her trembling fingers as she applied a final coat of Hot Pink Sunset. The vibrant fuchsia lipstick would act as her armor, a defense against kissing Grant on their date tonight. Because she couldn’t kiss him. Not yet. First, she had to untangle herself from the mess she’d made.

  The truth was her only hope.

  And her greatest obstacle.

  The doorbell chimed, and Eliza heard Ben shout, “I’ll get it!” as he clomped across the house to answer the door.

  Setting down her lipstick, she scrutinized her appearance one last time before heading downstairs. Despite wearing more makeup than usual, she left her hair loose, tumbling in soft, casual waves around her shoulders. Since she wasn’t sure what Grant had in mind for their date, she’d paired white capris with simple wedges and a floral off-the-shoulder blouse.

  When she reached the bottom of the staircase, Grant glanced up from his conversation with Ben, his words faltering mid-sentence. Eliza hid a smile at the dazed look on his face. Guess she’d chosen the right outfit.

  “You look… incredible,” Grant breathed.

  “Thank you.” She did her best to sound breezy despite the butterflies having a hoedown in her stomach.

  “Ben was just telling me all about his guys’ night in with his grandpa tonight.”

  “Which, knowing Dad, probably consists of watching back-to-back John Wayne movies,” Eliza said with a laugh.

  “That doesn’t sound so bad. If it were my dad, it’d be war documentaries.”

  “What are you guys gonna do?” Ben gazed up at Grant, his head tilted in curiosity.

  “It’s a surprise.”

  Ben scrunched up his face. “Mom doesn’t like surprises.”

  “Is that so?” Grant’s eyes twinkled as he met Eliza’s gaze, scattering goose bumps across her bare arms.

  “Well, don’t you two look nice.” Sylvia sailed into the room wearing a Regency-style gown, complete with elbow-length gloves.

  “You, too, Mom,” Eliza giggled. “I thought tonight was book club?”

  “It is, dear. Tonight is a theme night. We’re reading Pride and Prejudice. Don’t I look the part?”

  “Prettier than all the Bennet sisters,” Grant said, bowing at the waist.

  Sylvia beamed. “Liza, I like this one.”

  “Flattery will get you everywhere,” Eliza told Grant with a grin.

  “You kids have fun.” Sylvia winked at Grant as she wrapped an embroidered cloak around her shoulders. Then, turning to Eliza, she added, “I assume the cupcakes for the school bake sale are still at the bakery since I didn’t see them in the kitchen.”

  “The bake sale!” Eliza gasped, covering her face with her palm. “I completely forgot.”

  Sylvia shot her a reproachful glance, and Eliza winced.

  Trying to juggle all of her responsibilities, Eliza lived in a constant state of guilt mixed with exhaustion, plus a dash of memory loss. And the icing on her overburdened cake was a thick layer of anxiety sprinkled generously with fear of failure. “Can’t I bring somethin
g I’ve already made? I have dozens of desserts lying around.”

  “You know Daphne was extremely specific. She wants three dozen ladybug cupcakes.”

  “What’s a ladybug cupcake?” Grant asked.

  “Regular cupcakes, but Daphne wants the frosting to look like ladybugs. I guess she’s doing a garden theme for the bake sale this year.” Eliza did her best to suppress an eye roll, but Grant picked up on her annoyance and flashed a sympathetic smile.

  “Grandpa and I can make them,” Ben volunteered.

  “Bless your heart, child.” Sylvia patted the top of Ben’s head, mussing his blond hair. “Your grandfather can’t follow a recipe to save his life. Want me to stay?” Sylvia asked Eliza.

  Eliza twirled her silver cuff bracelet around her wrist, toying with the idea. The offer was tempting. But the bake sale was her responsibility. “No, that’s okay,” she sighed, sliding the cuff farther up her arm like Wonder Woman’s Bracelets of Submission. Turning to Grant, she summoned her most apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry. Can we postpone for another time?”

  “Why don’t I stay and help?”

  “Yeah!” Ben cheered, hopping up and down at the suggestion.

  “Oh, um…” Eliza chewed her bottom lip, smudging her strategically applied lipstick. Sure, she wanted to spend more time with Grant. But all three of them together? That seemed like a recipe for disaster, no pun intended.

  “What a lovely idea! It’s settled.” With a flourish, Sylvia plopped a bonnet on her head and reached for the door. “Enjoy your cozy date night in.”

  “Thanks.” Eliza cringed at the anxious croak in her voice, subconsciously running her tongue along her front teeth in case she’d transferred any Hot Pink Sunset where it didn’t belong.

  “Ta-ta!” With a regal wave, Sylvia left in a flurry of ruffles and lace.

  When the door finally swung shut, Grant released a pent-up breath. “Your mom takes book club pretty seriously.”

  “Any excuse to wear a costume.” Eliza attempted a laugh, but it barely made it past the lump in her throat. Spending time with Grant and Ben together wasn’t the plan. She needed to lay groundwork first. This was all happening much too quickly. And she could only hope the evening wouldn’t blow up in her face like the time she’d made pie filling in the blender and forgot to replace the lid.

  Plastering a smile on her face, she turned to Ben. “Who’s ready to make some cupcakes?”

  “Me! Me!” Ben whooped, skipping toward the kitchen.

  Eliza and Grant fell in step behind him.

  “Thank you for being flexible. I hope you didn’t have anything too elaborate planned.” Eliza tried to hide the disappointment in her voice.

  “Only a carriage ride, a string quartet, and our very own fireworks display.”

  “Oh, no! Remind me to make sure the apple we give Daphne at the end of the school year has a worm in it.”

  Grant snorted with laughter. “I take it you’re not her biggest fan.”

  “She’s not so bad, I guess. I think I’m just overly sensitive because she’s threatened to hold Ben back a grade.”

  “What? Ben’s a bright kid. What possible reason could she have for holding him back?”

  Eliza shrugged. “His grades on his homework are great. But she doesn’t think he’s developed the skills he needs in the classroom. She’s worried he won’t be able to keep up with the other kids in third grade. And she says it’s easier to hold him back now than later on.”

  “I’m sorry, Lizzy. How does Ben feel about it?”

  “I… haven’t told him yet.” Eliza grimaced. “I know that sounds awful. But I keep hoping we’ll figure out the problem and get a handle on it before the end of the year. Which is only a few weeks away.” She sighed, a heaviness settling around her heart. “But I’m probably kidding myself.”

  “Hey.” Grant reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. “You’re a great mom. And Ben’s a great kid. You don’t have to solve everything tonight.”

  “You’re right,” she murmured, gazing at their entwined fingers. “We just have to bake three dozen cupcakes that look like ladybugs.”

  “Think she’ll notice if we throw a few dung beetles in there?” Grant asked with mock seriousness.

  Laughter spilling from her lips, Eliza jabbed his shoulder. “Don’t you dare.”

  When they reached the kitchen, Grant released Eliza’s hand, and she instantly missed the feel of him—the comfort a simple touch provided in a difficult situation.

  For a moment, it felt like she’d had a teammate to help carry the burden.

  And Eliza would do almost anything to get that feeling back.

  Squeezed into the small kitchen, Grant reveled in fond memories of baking with Eliza. Although, strangely, he found it even more enjoyable with Ben around. His quirky antics and childlike curiosity added a certain richness to the experience that Grant hadn’t expected.

  Plus, it wasn’t a bad idea to have someone provide a buffer between him and Eliza. Every time he thought her allure couldn’t become any more intense, she did something even more adorable.

  Like turn on music and dance barefoot across the slick hardwood floor with her son while they assembled the necessary ingredients.

  To Grant’s surprise and delight, they included him in all of their goofy games, flicking flour at each other and seeing who could keep a straight face after licking a spoonful of salt. For the first time, Grant understood what it felt like to be part of a normal, loving family. A thought that instantly filled him with guilt.

  He loved his parents and adored his sister. But they didn’t know how to interact with one another. Or, at least, not like this—lighthearted and free from years of tension and resentment.

  Before Eliza and Ben, Grant had resigned himself to never knowing the fullness of having his own family. Now, he glimpsed a glimmer of hope on the horizon. And it appeared to be a lot closer than he’d originally thought.

  “Here.” Eliza held out the pair of whisks from the electric mixer, each one dripping with chocolate cake batter. “You two can share.”

  “This is my favorite part,” Ben told Grant. “Except for making frosting.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.” As Grant accepted the whisk from Eliza, their fingers grazed, shooting a jolt of awareness up his arm. He jumped, flinging the whisk into the air, spraying globs of batter across the countertop. His face coloring, Grant snatched a kitchen towel to mop up the mess. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s fine.” Eliza waved away his concern with a smile. “Don’t worry about it.” Dampening a washcloth in the sink, she helped him clean up the splatter.

  “Do I have to share mine now?” Ben asked, his tone willing, albeit disappointed.

  Grant chuckled. “No, that one’s all yours. But I’ll have to be more careful when it’s time for the frosting.” He stole a glance at Eliza and caught her watching him. Had she felt the same spark he had?

  Eliza returned her gaze to the speckled countertop, her cheeks noticeably rosier. “Speaking of frosting, you guys go ahead and get started while I finish cleaning up.”

  “You got it.” Grant straightened and surveyed the ingredients spread around the kitchen. “Frosting… frosting…”

  Eliza raised one eyebrow and paired it with a smirk. “Did you forget how to make it?”

  “Not exactly. I remember that it involves copious amounts of sugar. And… lard? Lard’s a thing, right?”

  Shaking her head, Eliza laughed. “There’s a recipe in the cookbook.”

  “We need butter. Right, Mom?”

  “Yep. Lots of butter.”

  “Okay, that settles it.” Grant gave a definitive nod. “Ben, you’re in charge of assembling the ingredients. I’ll start mashing the butter. With this, right?” He plucked a meat mallet from the utensil holder and waved it around for comic effect.

  Eliza slapped her forehead, but Ben bubbled over with laughter.

  “He’s worse at baking than Aunt Cassie!”


  “I’ll take that as a compliment.” Grant winked.

  As Grant and Ben worked together on the frosting, Eliza moved to the stack of dishes in the sink. But Grant noticed her sneak glances at the two of them together, and he couldn’t tell if her expression was pleased or… pensive.

  “All right.” Grant directed his attention back to Ben. “After I add the vanilla, what’s next?”

  “Um…” Ben leaned over the cookbook, his forehead scrunched as he squinted in concentration. “The milk.”

  “How much?”

  The tip of his tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth, Ben traced a finger across the page. “Two tablespoons.”

  “Great. Thanks.” As Grant measured the milk, he cast a sideways glance at Ben, a thought niggling at the back of his mind.

  No… it was probably nothing.

  Chapter 20

  Things with Grant were going well. Almost too well.

  Eliza had spent the entire morning at the bake sale reminiscing about the night before. Although they’d been crammed into a small kitchen, they’d fit together perfectly. Like a three layer cake.

  On the car ride home from school, Ben couldn’t stop babbling excitedly about Grant, wondering when they could hang out and paint again.

  As though he knew they were talking about him, a text from Grant pinged Eliza’s cell phone the moment they pulled into the driveway.

  I found some of my old art supplies from high school and thought I’d pass them along to Ben. Mind if I bring them by this afternoon?

  Her stomach flipped as she reread the text. Grant was becoming increasingly more enmeshed in their lives. And if Eliza allowed it to continue, she would have to tell him everything. But at what cost?

  Then again… what would be the cost if she didn’t tell him?

  Eliza vacillated between the two options almost as regularly as the passing of each hour in the day, torn between her desire to tell the truth and her dread of the consequences.