“Ben…” Eliza turned to face her son in the back seat. “What do you think about sharing our special family tradition with Grant?”
“Yay!” He unclipped his seat belt with gusto. “Today?”
“Yep. We need to spend a little time on homework first. Then we’ll set everything up in the backyard.”
With a huge grin stretched across his face, Ben scrambled out of the car and raced inside, hopping up the porch steps two at a time.
Chuckling, Eliza followed. She’d never seen him in a bigger hurry to do his homework.
As Ben settled at the dining room table with a glass of apple juice and his first assignment, Eliza pulled out her phone. Her fingers hovered over the keys.
Once she sent the text, there would be no going back. They’d never invited anyone into their quirky tradition before. Not her parents, not Luke and Cassie. No one. Maybe they weren’t ready for this step?
“Do you think Grant’ll like it?” Ben set down his pencil and took a big gulp of apple juice. His dark eyes held hers, so full of hope and earnestness.
Eliza melted. “Of course he will, Bug. He’ll love it.”
After sending Grant the text, telling him when and where to meet them, Eliza said a silent prayer she was right. Because the only thing worse than having her heart broken…
Was breaking her son’s.
As Grant rounded the corner of the Carters’ home toward the backyard, his heart thudded louder than boot stompers in a dance hall.
Eliza’s text couldn’t have been more ambiguous.
That’d be great. Meet us in the backyard in one hour. Wear grungy clothes and flip-flops.
That was it. No explanation. Not even a hint as to what he could expect.
So, here he was… toting an easel and bag of art supplies with no clue why Eliza wanted him to meet them in the backyard. With a strange dress code, no less.
Shifting the tote bag to his other shoulder, Grant eased open the side gate. A familiar high-pitched squeak emanated from the rusty hinges. But that’s where the similarities to his youthful memories ended.
Grant noticed the huge play set first, with its spiral slide and double swings. A new addition for Ben’s sake, no doubt. A portable soccer net occupied one corner of the expansive lawn next to a tetherball set. More toys Grant didn’t remember.
Then his gaze fell on Eliza. More specifically, on her tanned, toned legs clad in white denim cutoff shorts.
When he realized his mouth had fallen open, Grant snapped it shut, tearing his gaze from her legs to her bare arms, finally registering the bright pink water balloon clutched in her hand. By her side, clothed in a faded T-shirt and swim trunks, Ben gripped a green balloon, a goofy grin splashed across his face.
“What’s going on?” Setting his belongings in the grass, Grant took a step closer, squinting at the huge canvas tarp beneath their bare feet.
“Well… Since you’ve been so generous sharing your love of art with Ben, we decided to let you in on one of our favorite art projects.” Eliza turned to her son. “Right, Ben?”
“Right,” Ben snickered, barely able to contain his giggle.
“Art project?” Grant cast a curious glance at three five-gallon paint buckets filled with water balloons.
“Should we show him?” Eliza asked Ben, her dark eyes glinting mischievously.
Ben nodded, his grin widening as he wound his right arm, the water balloon poised and ready.
Grant instinctively took a step back.
But not far enough.
Eliza and Ben lobbed their water balloons in his direction, one smacking Grant in the shoulder, the other hitting his left calf. Pink and green paint dripped down his body, sprinkling the grass.
Giggling, Ben ran to one of the buckets. “Now you have to say on the tarp!” He grabbed a green balloon and chucked it at Eliza, who squealed and tried to duck out of the way. It hit her square in the stomach, much to Ben’s delight.
In a split second, Grant had recovered from his shock, kicked off his flip-flops, and sprinted toward the bucket filled with blue water balloons. Snatching one in each hand, he rapid-fire released them, nailing Ben in the leg and decorating Eliza’s backside.
Peals of laughter filled the air as they splattered paint all over the tarp—and each other—slipping and sliding in the puddles of pink, blue, and green. Although Grant suspected the paint was washable, he didn’t care. He was having the time of his life! Saddened only to find his supply of ammunition had dwindled.
Down to his last balloon, Grant knew he needed to make it count. He zeroed in on Eliza and made a beeline straight for her.
Disregarding the rules to remain on the tarp, Eliza shrieked with laughter and took off across the lawn.
Grant followed in close pursuit, keeping an eye on the pink water balloon gripped in her hand.
Rounding the tool shed, Grant closed the gap, grasping her forearm.
Eliza squealed, trying to fight him off between fits of breathless laughter.
Unable to wiggle free, she flung the balloon at his head, but Grant dove out of the way, dragging them both to the ground in a tangle of slippery limbs.
His body braced over hers, Grant held up his balloon, grinning devilishly. “For your sake, I hope this is washable paint.”
“It is,” she gasped, her dark eyes locked on his, her breath ragged.
For a moment, all Grant could think about was lowering his mouth to hers, finally drinking her in. Every muscle in his body tensed, and he was certain she could hear the pounding of his heartbeat, mere inches away from her own.
Eliza’s pupils dilated, signaling to Grant that she was thinking the same exact thing.
Tossing the water balloon aside, Grant cupped the back of her head, bringing her closer as she parted her lips, her eyelids fluttering closed.
This was it.
The moment he’d dreamt about nonstop. The one that would reveal the barely contained emotions he’d been too cowardly to share. The one moment that would change everything….
Smack!
A short, sharp pain pricked the back of Grant’s neck and green paint slowly dripped down his collarbone, trickling onto Eliza’s throat.
“Got you!” Ben hopped up and down, wiggling his arms in some sort of victory dance.
Eliza shifted beneath him, but not before Grant caught the look in her eyes—a mixture of disappointment, longing, and… fear?
But fear of what?
Of things not working out?
Or was Eliza more afraid of what would happen if things did work out?
Whatever the reason, Grant would make it his mission to eliminate any ounce of apprehension. For both of them.
Because somehow, when he’d least expected it, these two oddballs had become his family. And he’d give up everything—even his biggest account—in order to keep them.
Chapter 21
While Grant worked with Ben at one of the bakery’s bistro tables—Grant on the website, Ben on his homework—Grant stole glances in Eliza’s direction. Occasionally, he’d catch her staring at him out of the corner of her eye while she polished the antique cash register.
It felt as though they were performing a dance, sidestepping around their feelings, never quite admitting the truth.
And the truth was, Grant loved Eliza with every fiber of his being.
In fact, he’d never stopped loving her. And the next time they were alone, Grant planned to say exactly that.
“Ben, would you mind reading off the latte flavors for me?” Grant poised his fingers over the keyboard, ready to add them to the website.
“Um… okay.” Gazing at the board, Ben squinted, scooting toward the edge of his chair. “Vanilla?”
Based on his scrunched features and uncertain tone, Grant wondered if Ben had made a lucky guess. “And?”
“Chocolate?”
Peering over his shoulder, Grant surveyed the list. No vanilla or chocolate. Cassie had come up more creative names for her concoct
ions. Swiveling back to Ben, he studied his tense features, the dip in his eyebrows, the pucker of his lower lip.
On a hunch, Grant handed him his glasses. “Here. Try these on for a second.”
His dark eyes wide and curious, Ben slipped the wire frames over his nose. Too big for his face, they hung slightly crooked.
“Now try reading the board again.” Grant gave him an encouraging nod.
Tentatively, Ben studied the menu. “H-Honey Lavender. Cinnamon Twist. Li-Li—”
“Licorice. That’s a tough one. But well done! I think we’ve solved the mystery behind your trouble in school.” Grant glanced at Eliza, surprised by her blanched features and misty eyes. Why didn’t she look happy? She’d been stressed for months over Ben’s problems in school, blaming herself. She should be glad it’s something as solvable as getting Ben a pair of glasses. Shouldn’t she?
“Here you go!” Cassie sailed in from the kitchen carrying a tray with two slices of cheesecake. As she set the plates on the table, she noticed Ben’s glasses. “Well, don’t you look adorable.” She ruffled the top of his head before smiling at Grant. “Playing dress up?”
“Actually, we just figured out Ben’s nearsighted.” Grant could have kicked himself for not noticing sooner, especially when Ben read the frosting recipe a few nights ago. His intense level of concentration should have been a dead giveaway.
“Nearsighted?” Cassie glanced at Ben, who wolfed down his slice of cheesecake, oblivious to the world.
“Yeah. Which explains why he always did great with his homework, but has trouble in class. He probably can’t see the whiteboard. Or anything else that’s not directly in front of him.”
“Oh, my goodness! Why didn’t he say anything?”
“Kids don’t always know what’s going on. I didn’t. I was ten when I got my first pair of glasses. But probably needed them sooner.” Turning to Ben, Grant asked, “So, what are we having?”
Ben mumbled an unintelligible response, scattering crumbs across the tabletop.
Cassie laughed. “It’s Eliza’s tiramisu cheesecake. We plan on serving it as our free teaser dessert during the grand opening. What do you think?”
Swallowing, Ben gave her an exaggerated thumbs-up, chocolate sauce smeared across his face. “Tiramisu is my favorite.”
“No kidding! Mine, too. Even when I was your age. Which my mom always thought was weird since most kids don’t like the coffee flavor.” Grinning at their newfound connection, Grant lifted his fork, eager to try his first bite.
Cassie inhaled a sharp breath, and when Grant looked up, she’d turned the same pale shade as Eliza.
What had gotten into them? It was as though they’d both seen a ghost or something.
Eliza winced as Cassie pulled her into the kitchen. The shelves, countertops, oven… everything blurred together.
“What’s going on?” Cassie’s eyes were wide with shock. “Please tell me Grant isn’t… he can’t be…” Cassie couldn’t finish her thought.
Feeling light-headed, Eliza stumbled toward the sink, bracing herself against the cool metal basin.
Breathe… just breathe…
She stared at the streaks of greasy butter and dried clumps of batter baked onto the cookie sheet, suddenly compelled to scrub away every single stain.
Without thinking, she flipped on the faucet.
Coming closer, Cassie lowered her voice. “Liza, please talk to me.”
Squirting soap onto the sponge, Eliza scrubbed with all her strength, oblivious to the scalding temperature of the water as it turned her hands bright red. Why wouldn’t the scorch marks come off? Suddenly, nothing else mattered except getting the baking sheet sparkling clean.
Cassie switched off the faucet and grabbed her elbow, steering her out the back door onto the patio.
Only once she was outside, with the cool breeze caressing her skin, did Eliza realize hot tears stained her cheeks.
Leading her to a quiet bench tucked beneath a wisteria-covered arbor, Cassie pulled Eliza down beside her.
They sat in silence for several minutes, Eliza watching the soap suds drip from her hands onto the smooth cobblestone where they burst and disappeared through the sinewy cracks.
“How long have you known?” Cassie asked softly.
“Since always,” Eliza croaked, the words burning the back of her throat. “There’s never been anyone else.” Swiping at her tears, she flinched as the soap stung her eyes.
Cassie waited without saying a word, rubbing a soothing hand along her back.
“The night of graduation, Grant gave me a promise ring,” Eliza continued, her voice distant as though it came from across the courtyard. “A delicate rose gold band. He’d even had the inside engraved.” She gazed at her ring finger, now barren, save for a few lingering soap suds. “It never should have happened. No one knows that better than me. But Ben…” Her voice broke, and Cassie wrapped her arm around her shoulders.
“Ben is my greatest earthly treasure. I—”
“I know,” Cassie murmured, stroking her arm.
“I wanted to tell Grant about Ben as soon as I found out. I—I went to his house right after I took the test. But…” Eliza squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to relive the memory.
“But what?” Cassie pressed gently.
“As soon as Harriet saw me, she knew something was wrong. She… she made me tell her.” The tears fell unrestrained as a painful sob rose in her chest. “She told me Grant had a promising future and she wouldn’t let… someone like me ruin her son’s life.”
“She didn’t!” Cassie gasped, her fingers clenching Eliza’s arm.
“I told her Grant had a right to know. And to make his own decision. But…” Eliza’s gaze dropped to her hands. The bubbles had disappeared, leaving her exposed skin dry and raw.
“But what?”
The fervent compassion in Cassie’s voice broke Eliza’s resolve. She couldn’t keep the secret any longer. “Grant’s father is my parents’ accountant. According to Harriet, my dad never paid taxes on any of the handyman work he did around town.” Eliza’s cheeks burned with shame and she kept her gaze locked on her hands. “Harriet said if Stan turned him in to the IRS, my parents would lose everything. And my dad could go to jail.”
Cassie’s hand flew to her mouth, her eyes shimmering with sympathy. “Oh, Liza. I’m so, so sorry. I… I don’t know what to say.”
“I didn’t, either. I was so… terrified.” The word came out in a whisper, and Eliza shivered despite the warm afternoon sun. All the fear and loneliness of that moment came rushing back, pulling another sob from her lips.
Her own tears spilling down her cheeks, Cassie squeezed tighter.
“Harriet’s threat kept me quiet for years. But on Ben’s third birthday, when Luke gave him his first baseball mitt… I broke down. Grant should’ve been there. I knew it wasn’t right that I’d been sacrificing my son’s relationship with his father so I could protect my parents. And I’d resolved to tell him everything. But that’s when the article came out.”
“What article?”
As the clouds shifted, Eliza hugged herself, running her hands up and down her forearms to banish the sudden chill. “Grant’s company got a write-up in a magazine. Everyone in town was talking about it. The headline was ‘Superstar Startup.’ I’ll never forget the quote they pulled from the interview and turned into a giant graphic. ‘The secret to my success? Zero distractions. No ballet recitals or Little League. One hundred percent focus, one hundred percent of the time.’”
The ache in her chest suddenly too intense to ignore, Eliza hunched forward, burying her face in her hands.
“I’m sure he didn’t mean—”
“That’s not all….” Taking a deep breath, Eliza forced herself to sit up and meet Cassie’s gaze. “He also said, ‘I’ve always known a family wasn’t in my future. And it’s allowed me to take certain risks. And those risks have paid off.’” Eliza recited Grant’s interview with uncanny accu
racy, having read and reread the article a thousand times until every single word was scorched into her memory. “That’s when I realized Harriet had been right all along. Or… at least, I thought she was. But now… I don’t know what to do, Cass. Please, tell me what to do.” Crumbling inward, Eliza allowed the sob to escape, racking her entire body.
Cassie didn’t stir, holding her until the trembling in her shoulders subsided.
Finally, when Eliza lifted her tear-streaked face, she noticed a soft, wistfulness in Cassie’s features.
“What are you thinking?” Sniffling, Eliza wiped her damp cheeks with the back of her hand.
Cassie tilted her chin toward a planter box filled with sunny daffodils. “Beautiful, aren’t they?”
“Sure, I guess.” Eliza stared at her friend in bewilderment. Why were they talking about flowers?
“Did you know they’re symbolic of rebirth and new beginnings?” Cassie continued, a small smile lighting her eyes. “Every spring, they get another chance. It’s the same bulb; it can’t change where it’s been planted. And yet, it’s technically a brand-new bloom. Pretty neat, huh?”
As Cassie’s words took root, Eliza’s lips twitched. “Are you sure you didn’t grow up in Poppy Creek? Because you sure know how to speak the language.”
Cassie grinned before her features softened, her gaze earnest. “No matter what happens, we’re all here for you. You know that, right?”
Her heart full, Eliza nodded.
While she had no idea how things would turn out, she was certain of one thing.
The truth was long overdue.
Chapter 22
Oh, no! What was he doing here?
Tossing her journal aside, Eliza leapt from the window seat, sweeping back the floral curtains for a better look.
She wasn’t ready to see Grant. After spending hours scribbling down all her thoughts, Eliza still hadn’t figured out how to tell him the truth.
Yet, there he was… strolling up their walkway as casual as could be. Meanwhile, her heart felt like egg whites being whipped for meringue.
The Truth in Tiramisu (A Poppy Creek Novel Book 2) Page 13